The Saffron Malformation

by Walker, Bryan

  “These people are making me thirsty,” Render said to Grik, the young Broodling driving the rig. He lifted the dropper once again and loosed another drop onto his tongue.

  “What now boss?” Grik asked.

  Render looked at the boy and answered, “Now we burn and rape and kill until we find those assholes. Only so many ways to get across this world and all of them are roads. You know the thing about roads?” Grik shook his head slightly so Render told him, “They don’t hide shit.”

  The next stop off the Brood came to along their stretch of highway was a cluster of buildings a kilometer off the exit road. There was a pair of diners and some places to drive through should you find yourself pressed for time along with a set of motels and a couple of general stores. The Brood rolled down the main road, distributing themselves to the parking lots of the various businesses as they went.

  Render ordered his rig into the parking lot of one of the diners and loaded his pistol as the truck squeaked softly to a stop. Grik stepped from the rig first and the Brood leader followed. He noted the pair of motorcycles that had stopped with him and nodded to the scruffy men stepping off them. They collected submachine guns from their saddle bags and stuffed pistols into the waists of their pants before starting for the door.

  Render pulled a pipe from his pocket and took a hit before following the others. Just enough to help keep his head clear.

  The scruffy Broodlings with the fully automatics went in first and loosed a burst of rounds into the ceiling before Render and Grik entered behind them. “Attention please,” the Brood leader shouted as he strolled in behind his men. Every eye in the joint found him, most with mouths still full of food, stunned to stillness by the shots. “Today,” Render continued, “We have a very special and one time offer for all of you. Amnesty. That’s right, anyone who has information on the whereabouts of Quey Von Zaul and his crew will be allowed to live. Those who don’t,” he trailed off as he stepped between the large scruffy men pointing the automatic weapons. “Good luck,” he finished as he looked to them.

  If it wasn’t for the depth of silence over the room he wouldn’t have noticed the pair sitting across from each other in a booth on the other side of the room. Render peered at them. The rest of the room was scared to breathe whereas these two, a man in his forties and a girl somewhere near twenty, both with dark hair and olive skin, were arguing as quietly as possible.

  Render cocked his finger toward them and the Broodlings followed as he strolled to their table. Conversation ceased when they noticed his approach.

  “Don’t stop on my account,” Render insisted. The two exchanged a look. “Mind if I ask what this is about?”

  A series of looks passed between the pair, an obvious father and daughter, Render noted as he saw the slight resemblance. The girl started to talk but the man interrupted her, “You promise we won’t be harmed.”

  “You heard what I said.”

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word? That my daughter’ll be safe.”

  “Can’t say, except that its bad practice to look for information and then go about reneging on your word.” Render took a breath and said, “Truth is, it’s the only offer you’ve got. The alternative is we start pumping rounds into bodies.”

  The man nodded. “This group you’re looking for might have been staying in the motel across the way.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “We saw ‘em,” the girl said. “A few of ‘em looked shot up pretty bad. I’m pretty sure they burned a body out back too.”

  Render peered at the girl. Young and supple. He smiled. “Which way did they go?”

  “Not sure,” the man said.

  “Bad answer,” Render told him.

  “South,” the girl blurted.

  “You don’t know that,” the man chided her.

  Render stepped to her and said, “Wouldn’t feed us bad knowledge in the hopes we’ll go away, would you?”

  She shook her head. “I saw ‘em. Drive off and head down the street.”

  Render looked out the window and down the street. “They turned onto the highway at the bridge?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied, “They crossed it.”

  Render looked to his men and shrugged. If she was lying she was doing a thorough job. “Right then,” he said and gripped her hair, pulling her from the booth.”

  “You gave your word,” her father balked. His uprising was met with the pointing of guns. He settled a bit and said, “You said she wouldn’t be harmed.”

  “I said she’d live,” Render told him. He looked the girl over, saw the fear in her face and smiled. “I’ll take good care of her,” he assured the man.

  The girl’s father started to stir again and one of the Broodlings sent a burst of rounds into his chest. The girl cried out, tears filling her vision and spilling down her cheeks.

  “Burn it,” Render ordered as he jammed his gun into the girl’s side and tightened his grip in her hair. “I’ll be in the truck,” he informed them as he led her to the door.

  “What’s your name?” he asked the sniveling girl as they stepped out into the parking lot, the sounds of gunfire roaring in the building behind them.

  “Eloine,” she answered.

  “Interesting name,” he commented as he opened the passenger’s side door of the rig and forced her inside. Render climbed in behind her as the first flames began to flicker inside the diner. A few patrons made it out, some even escaped the spray of bullets that followed them as the Brood emerged from the diner and took aim.

  Eloine had a bit of fight in her that was sapped when Render looked at her and said, “You may not enjoy this, but that doesn’t mean you have to make me hurt you.” The girl swallowed hard and settled. This time when Render slipped his hand under her shirt and gripped her breast all she did was look away.

  Grik listened to Render’s soft groans accompanied by the wet thrusts as he drove the rig back toward the highway. To either side was blazing buildings and dead bodies twitching under the afternoon sky. They had a warm trail again, and Render was pleased by that.

  The Diner and The Edge of the Waste

  The moving truck pulled into the parking lot of a greasy spoon called Gary’s Grubhouse, announced by way of the fuzzy holosign on the roof. The van that pulled in behind it had been a brilliant white just five days ago, but the road had coated it with a layer of dirt and dulled the shine of its finish. Reggie’s car pulled in after and was worse yet. In many places, around the tires and near the base of the car for instance, it seemed more gray than blue.

  Quey opened the passenger’s side door of the truck and stepped out into the late afternoon air. There was a tinge of pain in his shoulder and he rubbed it lightly as he looked out toward where they were heading. The road seemed endless. Funny thing was when he turned and looked back the way they’d come it seemed just as long.

  He sighed hard and scanned the hills that rolled across the landscape, coated in tall grass that swayed in the gentle wind and trees with fat leaves that offered patches of shade. He was excited to be done with this trip, of course being done also meant being in the waste and that unnerved him. It was hot in that place and Once Men thrived there.

  The idea of stopping didn’t appeal to him anymore. He’d been on the road too long, longer by three months than the time it took him to make his usual shine run. Usually when he made a stop he’d drop off his cargo, maybe spend the night, and then be on his way. This time he’d had to wait for Geo and then there was the detour to Northshire and the other detour to collect Arnie, Rain and Leone from Vernire. He didn’t usually go that far north and if you coupled the pair of unscheduled stops with the complications gunfights, wounds and deaths bring to travel plans you have quite a bit of a stretch. It wasn’t appealing to head back into the wastes but being done with this little trip was.

  Behind him the van door rolled open and Rain shifted slowly to the edge. Quey couldn’t help but recall all those months ago, near
a years worth now, when he’d first spotted her in the parking lot of a greasy spoon next to the opened door of another van, selling her well crafted jewelry. He’d seen little girls selling trinkets of intricately woven twine lined with beads in some of the smaller towns. As she settled at the edge of the van, legs dangling about a foot from the ground, he recalled the necklace she’d brought him made of precious metals and gemstones. Quey chuckled as he watched her briefly, eyes closed and head resting on the vans open door, a van in the parking lot of a diner. They’d come full circle.

  Rain opened her eyes moments after Quey turned back toward the field and breathed deep. She’d been awake more often during the last few days and though she was still taking pills for the pain, she felt better. When she moved now it didn’t feel like a knife digging into her and there were no more vines of shooting pain streaking up her left side at the slightest shifting.

  Arnie spent as much time as he could manage with her on the mattress in the back of the van, his arms wrapped around her. She could feel him, even when she was sleeping for most of the day, his warmth enveloping her and his lips pressed against her forehead or cheek. He would whisper things to her and in her sleep she would dream of them.

  She had a lot of time to dream after the bullet was dug out of her side. Sometimes her father made an unpleasant appearance. He kept showing up to take Leone back and as hard as she fought him he always pummeled her, striking her with closed fists and glaring at her with raw hate. Sometimes Arnie was there but he was never able to help. He’d just walk around, sometimes coming to her and kneeling and speaking the reassurances he was whispering into her sleeping ear in the real world as she tossed and turned. Sometimes Leone was there and sometimes she couldn’t find him. Those were worse for some reason, the ones where she was running through the dark screaming his name. Dashing down empty city streets that somehow led to endless fields and forests and then she’d be at the house where they grew up. There were more hallways than there should have been and they led to the same rooms over and over until suddenly she’d be in another place and he was still nowhere to be found. These must have been the dreams that sent her thrashing in her sleep and made Arnie whisper to her. In her dream, he would appear out of nowhere and tell her to, “Shh.” He’d tell her that it was going to be alright and in her dream she would be mad at him because Leone was missing and he wouldn’t help her find him.

  When she woke she felt bad, watching him watch over her. He made sure she had water and food and demanded stops when she needed to relieve herself. He’d helped her out of the van when she couldn’t manage on her own. He loved her deeply, she knew, but it didn’t always comfort her. Sometimes it actually made her feel bad about herself because she knew she didn’t love him with the same intensity. She loved him undoubtedly, but in the end there was nothing he’d trade her for and she would trade him, or anything, even herself, for Leone. To make matters worse she knew he understood this and accepted it.

  Arnie offered her his hand and she shook her head. “I just want to sit for a bit.” She was looking better these days, still pale and shaky around the edges but better.

  He smiled at her, kissed her cheek and met Reggie near the truck. “You got the look of a hungry man.” Arnie said to the big man.

  Reggie smiled and replied, “This is the last decent meal we get so I’m lookin for meat and grease and a whole gang of bread.”

  Rain noticed Leone walk over to Quey, who was standing near the road. The boy had a sheet computer in his hand and when he got to Quey he held it out, asking a question Quey answered, explaining something to the boy patiently. She didn’t like the two of them getting chummy like they were but she also knew she’d asked for it. Not only that, there was part of her that wanted it. This was something she hadn’t been aware of until she’d been well down the path to death and sure there wasn’t going to be a return trip. She’d told Leone to stay with Quey if anything happened to her. It was a request that had surprised her and was no doubt responsible for the boy taking to the moonshiner the way he had.

  The truth of that request was another source of guilt regarding Arnie, but she wouldn’t take it back even if she could. It all came around to her putting Leone ahead of everything, even the feelings or needs of others. Arnie loved her and he was exactly what she wanted in her life when her life settled down but until then, if something did happen to her Arnie wouldn’t be able to help Leone survive. He wouldn’t be able to keep the boy safe and teach him what he’d need to know to fend for himself out here on the move. Those skills were things men like Quey Von Zaul and his crew could teach.

  Why not just be with Quey then?

  An interesting dilemma. It’s a cruel joke, that the qualities that made him who she’d want Leone to stick with if she died were the same ones that made it impossible for her to picture them together through the long haul. See, Rain didn’t really want life to be like this. She hoped that one day all this mess would settle somehow and she and Leone and Arnie would be able to have a home and a life that wasn’t a mess. That would never happen with a man like Quey. With him it’d always be like this, one situation or another. They might go through a stretch where things stayed quiet but eventually something would happen and they’d end up back at a place where carrying a gun was necessary to survive.

  With people like them the only guarantee you have is that if you spend enough time in their company you will see blood. Sadly, if she was going to be truthsome, she’d have to admit perhaps the same could be said for her.

  At least with Arnie there was a chance.

  Quey and Leone finished their conversation and the boy thanked him before rushing to her. “You okay?” he asked and she became aware of the expression on her face. Distraught, possibly even nauseated.

  Rain smiled and nodded slowly.

  “I’ll see if they have something easy for you to eat,” he said. Her smile broadened and she reached out and pulled him to her. She smelled his road-ravaged hair.

  “You need a shower,” she told him with a sly smile.

  “You’re not exactly a patch of petunias yourself,” he replied.

  She gripped him tighter and with both arms. “I love you,” she told him.

  “Are you going to get all sappy on me now?”

  She released him and when he moved away from her he could see the tears in her eyes. “It’s gunna be okay,” he told her with uncertainty.

  She smoothed his clothes and said, “Yeah. It’s going to be just fine.” He started to turn and she grabbed his hand. He turned to her and she looked up into his eyes. “You know,” she began. “I would have died in that house too,” she told him. “I’m sure my heart would have kept beating until I was long into old age but… I wouldn’t have been alive.” He started to speak and she continued. “I just want you to know that I’m glad you were there. For me to take care of. To take care of me.”

  He smiled, squeezed her hand once then said, “I love you too,” and started away.

  “Quey?” Reggie asked loudly. “How long you want to stay for?”

  Quey turned from the field across the way and said, “No rush. This’ll be the last piece of good we see so might as well settle a spell and enjoy it.”

  A small group of animals, probably ancestors of what had once been deer, dashed through the grass near a thicket of trees a kilometer from the other side of the road. Quey watched the twisted creatures with their patchy fur and gray skin. One stopped and looked at him, its antlers extending up toward the sky. It watched him with mismatched eyes, one pale and milky, the other slightly higher in its head and dark.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Quey turned and saw Rain had stepped up beside him. She was looking out at the ‘once deer’ who seemed bored by their presence and headed off into the patch of woods. “I’m afraid you’d have change coming.”

  She smiled but held back her laugh because it still hurt a bit. “What are you thinking on, so heavily?”

  He looked at h
er, smirked and answered. “I was thinking maybe a burger and a beer. Maybe then I’ll open the last of the shine and throw a party.” She smiled and nodded. “What do you say?” he asked.

  “So long as there’s no Skynyrd,” she replied.

  He looked back out at the field and then up at the cloudless sky. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m thinking a little Freebird might suit me just fine right about now.” He looked over at her, noticed the lightness of her hair at the roots and tugged it gently as he teased, “I’m also thinking that it’s time to get a new wig. This ones looking haggard.”

  She peered at him with playful anger. “Shut up.”

  “We could get you a red one if you want. Made of twine. It’d be better, you know, if you’re letting yourself go now.”

  Rain pet her hair and tried not to laugh, “Yeah, I’ve really let getting shot haggar me.”

  “Please, I was shot too, and look,” he said then ran a hand across one cheek then the other. “Still so pretty,” he concluded.

  Struggling to keep composed she said, “Stop. I can’t laugh.” A quiet moment passed and she added, “But if that’s the standard I’m to be judged by I think I have a ways to go before I fall out of pretty.”

  He glanced over at her, eyebrows raised.

  “I’d say I’m still hovering at the bottom of drop dead gorgeous.” She smiled slyly at him and they both laughed a bit.

  “Oh really,” he replied. “I’ll have you know I’ve been told on many occasions that my face is perfect for-”

  “Halloween,” she interrupted and he laughed. She looked over her shoulder at the diner. Reggie and Arnie were settling at a table near the window. She reached out and tugged Quey’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s eat.”

  He remained still for a moment then said, “I get it you know.”

  “Get what?” she asked.