The Saffron Malformation (42 page)

             
Gren and Voz were the future of the Crow family.  The other two were just a mess he had to clean up.

             
‘Then why not simply let them go?’ he began to ask himself as his driver closed the car door behind him.  ‘Give up on them and leave it be.  Call off Sticklan and sure as shit call off the Brood.’  They were a mess he didn’t need.

             
Viona had gotten one over on him.  She’d played him the fool and she’d crossed him.  He couldn’t let it go, he knew as the car began to move.

             
There was something else.

             
A blue dress.  A swing set.  That look in her eye when she challenged him.

             
He reached for the whiskey and poured a bit.  Sentiment only led to weakness so he took a drink and tried to dispel it.  He failed.

             
Though Sticklan Stone was growing frustrated with the situation, all in all he had to say things were going quite well.  After the Brood’s raid on the Pickens and Zaul ranch, Sticklan Stone had been presented with a plethora of information about the moonshiner and it was taking him a bit of time to sort through it all.  He had a lot of records regarding the business, things about the moonshine deliveries and how much was purchased at the individual stops, but none of that concerned him.  He was focused, presently, on Fen Quada.

             
It seemed that the stops in Fen Quada always lingered longer than they should, especially given the amount that particular vender purchased, he should have been out in a day but stops made there seemed to linger on for many.

             
Railen’s Rusty Nails and Fluffy Tails…

             
A ridiculous name for a bar, Sticklan noted as he sifted through the information.  He needed to find this man and the key to doing that was going to be in understanding him.  He knew that, knew the Brood’s scouring and raiding might prove successful but it’s the way dogs hunt.  Get enough of them together and they can overwhelm their prey, but one on its own is an awkward and clumsy mess.  Sticklan was like a cat.  Patient.  Biding his time.  Studying his prey.  The dogs might get lucky and sniff out something from time to time, but when a cat pounces…

             
Sticklan continued to sift through the data on his sheet and he came across some pictures.  He tapped the folder and began to glance through them.  Slowly he pieced together the ones taken in Fen Quada.  He’d seen the blonde man in Bravette, in the diner.  The girl beside him he didn’t recognize but that didn’t matter.  Finally he found a picture that was quite intriguing to him.  It was the moonshiner himself, younger but definitely him, and a girl.  He was making a silly face and she was laughing.

             
Excited, he went to another folder where the videos were kept.  He began clicking through them, watching brief clips of his prey’s life.  Finally he found one of Quey and the girl from the picture dancing.  It was probably taken the same night, as they were wearing the same clothes, nice but not formal.  It was a celebration, someone named Railen and his wife had been married on that day many years ago, he gathered from the video.  Then there was a moment when the camera panned over to the married couple, locked in each others arms.  There were other couples dancing and among them were Quey and this girl.

             
Grinning, he set himself to the task of discovering who this young woman was.  Could be she was dead and cold in Fen Quada.  Could be he’d get lucky and she was still alive.

             
It took him nearly a day to piece it together before he discovered her, registered and everything.  Natalie was her name.  She’d almost been a doctor.

Big Trouble and A Small Town

             
The gun roared in Rachel’s hands and leapt violently, sending a vibration up her arm and through her shoulders.  The can of beans remained on the edge of the picnic table, unscathed.

             
One helpful aspect to the water being tainted was that with Once Men and rabid feral animals as threats there was as much of a legitimate market for bullets as there was an illegal one.  Still, you couldn’t just walk into a store and buy them without a scan and tag on your file, or rather you couldn’t legally just walk into a store and buy them.  Luckily for Quey he had enough cash on hand to wave any need for official channels, and his time on the streets had lent him a knack for finding the sort of seedy folk who traded such items on the sly.  It cost him a quarter more than retail but it was worth it.  The government allowed you to have a weapon and the bullets to go with it, they just liked to keep tabs and put limits on how many of each you were allowed on hand.  After all, a man with too many guns or an abundance of ammunition might decide he didn’t like being pushed around by those in power anymore, and that might lead him to develop a desire to misbehave.

             
Of course the logic that a person didn’t need ten thousand rounds and fifteen guns to defend his home was sound, but like any law that puts restrictions on a commodity people desire, it conjures forth a black market.  Such a market is where Quey and Reggie picked up the boxes of ammo presently packed in the back seat of the blue four-door and the front of the truck’s cargo hold, across from Geo.

             
Dusty came up behind Rachel and gave her some pointers.  All Quey heard was a slight murmur, then she asked a question—a slightly higher murmur—and Dusty answered.  He backed away from her a good ten paces or so and waited.  Rachel took aim.  The gun boomed and jumped and a tree three feet over the can splintered slightly.

             
“Errr,” Rachel grunted.

             
“It’s alright,” Dusty said as he made his way to her.

             
“You know Dusty I think Reggie might be right,” Quey shouted.  When they looked over he suggested what the big man had said ten minutes ago.  “Maybe she should start with a rifle.”

             
Rachel said something to him and he tossed up his hands.  “Alright, alright.  If that’s what everyone thinks then fine.  It’s more likely she’ll be firing a handgun should trouble erupt but sure, let her try a rifle.”

             
Quey gave Reggie a look and he grabbed one of the assault weapons he’d taken from his shed before fleeing Fen Quada and jogged over to Rachel.  He swapped weapons with her, gave her some quick instructions and a minute later, after a few questions that he quickly answered, she was standing ready to fire.

             
A moment passed where there was no sound in the campground save the gentle whisper of the wind passing through the tall grass and leaves.  The man in the small building at the entrance said they were the only people out here at present and sure they could pop off a few rounds in target practice if they’d like.

             
The rifle cracked and jumped but far less than the handgun had.  The picnic table splintered seven inches in front of the can.

             
“That’s good,” Reggie called.  “Just remember there’s not going to be as much recoil so you don’t have to compensate for it as much.”

             
Rachel said nothing.  Her feet remained planted firm and true against the earth as she took aim, breathed as Reggie told her and squeezed the trigger smoothly.  This time the roar of the gun splattered the can of beans across the ground and Rachel yelped excitement.

             
“Hey!” Reggie shouted, clapping his hands once.  “There you go.”  Dusty rushed over and hugged her.

             
“I like this gun a lot better,” she told him.

             
He mocked her playfully and they kissed.

             
“Good start,” Quey said as he picked up the box of potential targets they’d found lying around and started toward the table.  “What’d’ya say we get a few in a row before supper, huh?”

             
Quey set up a line of cans, empty bottles, and a little girl’s lost doll.  There were a dozen objects and Rachel hit them all in sixteen shots.  “Not too shabby there for your first day,” Quey told her while Reggie set up the grill.

             
After dinner—steaks and vegetables—Rachel wanted to shoot again so Dusty set up some more targets and she popped them down one crack at a time.  This time she hit ten in thirteen bullets, then it was eleven and the time after that it was twelve.  She got it down to eleven twice in a row and then it jumped up to fifteen two rounds in a row and they decided to call it a night.

             
She could feel the weapons recoil in her hands and forearms and she liked it.  The smell exhilarated her too.  There was something exciting about the whole experience and that night when they hunkered into the bedroom of the small cabin they’d rented, the door was barely closed and she was already pulling Dusty’s clothes off.

             
After a passionate kiss she shoved him back onto the bed and straddled him.  She rode him hard, grinding her hips and letting the thrill of him throbbing inside her and his deep gasps and groans of ecstasy swell and finally explode through her.  His hands were on her skin as her muscles spasmed with ecstatic contractions and as her breath let out in a long slow sigh—she was thrown to the bed and he was atop her.  She looked up and saw his face, feverish as he thrust into her.  She felt the intensity build again as he gripped her breasts tight and another violent eruption fluttered through her.  As she tightened around him she felt him plunge deep and explode.

             
They collapsed onto the sheets, mostly soaked through but they didn’t care, and lay breathing heavy.  They looked deep into each other’s eyes and then Dusty chuckled.  “What got into you?” he asked.

             
She kissed him.  “I think you did,” she replied, and moved snug against him.

             
“I think it was all that shooting.”

             
“Maybe,” she teased.

             
“In that case I’m going to insist you shoot every day.”

             
She looked up at him, grinning, her hair matted to her forehead, “Oh really?”

             
“For your own safety, of course.  Should anything happen, you’ll need to know how to handle a weapon.”

             
She reached down and gripped his cock, “I think I can handle a weapon just fine.”

             
“Oh, there’s not doubt about that,” he said, pushing her hand away, he was still sensitive from the ravenous nature of their coupling.  “But this here weapon is still recovering from the last time you fired it off.”

             
“Here, maybe if I kiss it it’ll be all better.”

             
Before he could say another word she grabbed his shaft and slid him into her mouth.  His hands gripped the sheets and he gasped and groaned and after a minute he forgot he was supposed to be tender still, and not long after he was fully loaded once again, so to speak.

             
She climbed atop him with a hungry look in her eyes.

             
“Oh yeah,” he sighed, then said, “you’re shooting everyday,” as she guided his cock inside her once again.

             
Reggie was driving while Quey sat in the passenger’s seat with his sheet computer unfolded in his hand.  The screen displayed his personal messages and the words ‘No new messages,’ across the top of the page gave him pause.  He’d sent a reply to Arnie’s call for help as they were making their way out of Northshire, letting him know they were on their way, but he hadn’t gotten a reply and it worried him.  Every time he thought about it he couldn’t help but remember that video the Angels of the Brood had posted on the signal.

             
“I think this is it,” Reggie said.  Quey looked over and saw the sign along the side of the road that read, ‘Welcome to Vernire: Population 1023.’

             
It had taken them three days, much as Quey expected, even though they tried to push hard the second day to reach the town sooner.  They might have arrived earlier in the day but they were delayed by what a pain in the ass the worn out stretch of road they were driving down at present had been.  First off, they passed it completely because even Quey, who’d spent years on the road, hadn’t seen the turnoff.  When they doubled back and took it slow to find it he couldn’t believe that was it.  The first stretch was a bit of gravel that went on for three kilometers before it T’ed off with a thin two lane.  At least that part was paved.

             
After that the road wound east and north like a listless drunkard, curving so often it was impossible to achieve a respectable speed.  At least the scenery was pleasant, massive trees loomed over the road, their leaves the sort of green you only saw far from the wastes, and far from civilization.  Looking left or right you couldn’t see very far into the thick foliage and Quey knew this was the sort of place you’d find what passed for wildlife on Saffron.

             
“Is that it?” Reggie asked with a bit of disbelief, jarring Quey from his thoughts.  Ahead of them the road was lined on both sides with businesses for what would be about a block and a half in a regular city and then the shoulders were barren again.  Beyond that Quey could see that the street branched off into the landscape where he thought it likely you’d find modest houses on large expansions of land.

             
“Yes Regg, I believe it is.”

             
“Shit,” the big man said trailing off.  He’d never seen a town this small before.

             
As they rolled ahead and approached the buildings Quey made out a grocery store, a diner, a bank, a clothing store, a pharmacy and three bars amidst the cluster.  Small towns always had a surprising bar to populous ratio.

             
“So where do we start?” Reggie asked.

             
Quey looked over at him and said, “The bars,” as if it should have been obvious.

             
They pulled over and parked in the grass next to the first building they came to, Quey saw now it was a bakery.  Reggie reached into the glove box, retrieved the handgun from inside and tucked it into his paints.  Quey nodded as he did and they both climbed from the truck.  Dusty and Rachel were already out of the car and starting toward them.

             
“Quaint, isn’t it?” Dusty said before adding slyly, “I wonder why we never happened upon this place.”

             
Quey chuckled, “I’m not sure, what with it being so easy to find and get to.”  He took a moment to look the place over and said, “I’ll say this for him… the motherfucker sure knows how to go to ground.”

             
“You guys wanna split up?” Reggie asked.

             
Quey looked up the street.  A brown pickup pulled over and parked in front of the pharmacy and an older man stepped out and made his way to the building.  A few kids, probably somewhere in the neighborhood of twelve years old, stood outside one of the shops eating ice cream.  Then a woman came out of the bakery, just a dozen steps from them, carrying a fresh pepper loaf and strolled up the street away from them without so much as a glance.

             
“Sure,” he finally replied and the group started to move.  Quey and Reggie crossed the street and headed toward the first bar on the right while Rachel and Dusty moved toward the one that was across the street and two doors down.  They were halfway to the door when a soft familiar voice said, “Hello Quey.”

             
He turned and gaped at the small young woman with short black hair and clothes that she’d made herself, from whatever happened to be around.  She wore a skirt of dark purple and black patches sewn together with thick magenta thread, dark blue leggings and a black shirt that had been a T until she exchanged the sleeves for long white ones.  Black vines of silken thread swarmed down the sleeves and budded into deep red or blue roses around the cuffs.

             
“Rain,” he said it as if he were trying to convince himself she wasn’t a hallucination.

             
She looked down at her feet, rocking on her heels momentarily and then smiled up at him.  He took two quick steps and gripped her in both arms, hugging her hard and lifting her clear of the ground for a moment.  Rain made a sound that comes with being squished and patted him on the back saying, “Okay.  Easy now.”  A moment later she said, “Would it be alright if I went down now?”

             
Smiling, he let her down and released her but he couldn’t move more than a half step away.  His eyes ran over her, trying to memorize her before she vanished again.  “What are you doing here?” he asked.  Of the group, he was the only one who hadn’t put it together.