The Saffron Malformation (56 page)

             
Quey hugged her, careful to avoid her burns and kissed her lightly on the cheek.  “Wanna tell them?” he asked.

             
Rachel shook her head.  “Later.  For now, I want to hear about him.”

             
Dusty burned to ash in the shallow hole Quey dug.  It took a good chunk of the night and by the time it was over they had gone through two bottles of shine and nearly every interesting or entertaining moment of his life.  Sometime after the third bottle cracked Rachel said goodnight.  She went off to bed where she pretended to talk to him.

             
It was time for them to move on so they started by unloading any medical equipment from the van they wouldn’t need.  Then they took the mattress out of the room Arnie had been staying in and put it inside the back of the van because… well because they needed one so fuck the motel.  After that Arnie and Reggie carried Rain out of the room and set her in on top of it.  Next came trying to decide who would ride where and that was tough.

             
“Listen,” Quey said to Arnie, who was standing near the van with a scowl on his face.  He didn’t like the suggested arrangement which was he and Rachel in the truck with Quey and Reggie taking the car and Natalie driving the van with Amber and Leone.  “It’s the best way, makes it so everyone has a relief driver.”

             
“What about Natalie?” Arnie asked.

             
“I can handle the van,” Leone said.  “Used to drive the two of us along the long stretches from time to time, if she needed a break.”

             
Arnie looked into the back of the van, at Rain lying asleep on the mattress.  “I want to be with her,” he said and his voice was hollow.

             
Rachel stepped to him and rested a hand on him.  When he looked at her she smiled.  “How’s she doing?” Rachel asked then turned to Natalie.

             
Natalie shrugged, “Stable.  Nothing more to do really but wait for her body to handle the rest on its own, give her drugs for pain and stave off infection.”

             
Rachel nodded.  “We’ll take the car then and when you need to be in the van to check on Rain I’ll drive by myself, I don’t mind.  If I need a break you can take over when we stop somewhere.”  Natalie nodded once.  “Arnie will drive in front of us with Leone.  Reggie and Quey can handle the truck.”

             
This arrangement Arnie could agree too.

             
“If something happens?” Quey asked.

             
Rachel looked at him.  “Then the brief spell it’ll take Arnie to pull over and Natalie to get to the van won’t matter much I’m guessing.”  She looked at Natalie, who shook her head.  No, it wouldn’t.

             
“Only danger she’s in now,” Natalie said, “is infection, which we’re treating for already or bleeding we didn’t stop.  If the latters the case there’s nothing I can do anyhow.”

             
Quey nodded slowly.  “Fine,” he said.  “Let’s get loaded.”

             
Leone claimed he could handle the van but Natalie had to admit the first night he was behind the wheel she was nervous.  Rachel was sleeping in the passenger’s seat beside her as she drove with both hands on the wheel and her eyes locked on the van’s taillights.  She kept waiting for it to swerve, for it to flip over and explode.  Before she knew it the sun was peeking up over the horizon and they were still alive and on the road and she felt better.

             
They made the first stop of the day and Rachel said she was good to drive.  It gave Natalie a chance to ride in the van for a while and keep an eye on Rain, sleeping on the mattress.  The girl was tough, never complaining about pain, which must have been immense, but at this stage of healing she was only good for about two hours of consciousness in a day.  It was enough to eat and handle her bathroom needs and then Leone would sit with her and they would talk or listen to music or watch a show on the sheet computer screen.  Every once in a while she would laugh slightly and wince with a bit of pain but even that seemed better.  It was good, and Rain’s condition gave Natalie something to think on besides where they were going and what they were doing.

             
Amber loved it, and why shouldn’t she?  Young people love a good adventure.  Originally Natalie thought the girl would ride with her and Rachel but she opted to stay in the van.  She tried to get her to keep Rachel company while she drove but Rachel said it was fine.  Natalie understood, she wanted time alone.

             
Sometimes Rain would invite Amber to come in back when she was awake and watch something with her and Leone, or listen to some song the two of them liked.  Amber was all too happy to go.  When Leone was driving she’d sit beside him and the two of them would talk about this and that, the sorts of things only people their age really understood while Arnie curled up against Rain in the back.  It was all fun and games to her now and Natalie just hoped it would stay that way.

             
“I’m sorry,” Rain said to her late one afternoon as she was checking her pulse and looking for any signs of infection.  Natalie looked at her, surprised.  “You must hate me.”

             
Natalie shook her head.

             
“If it wasn’t for me,” she trailed off.

             
Natalie shook her head again.  “I’ve yet to hear your version of things but the second hand I’ve picked up… it’s not your fault.”

             
Rain took her hand and met her eyes.  “Thank you,” she said.  Natalie nodded.  “Your daughter’s lovely,” she added and changed the subject.

             
Natalie smiled as she loaded some basic antibiotics into a syringe.  “I think she has a bit of fondness for your,” she stopped briefly and then said, “Leone.”

             
Rain giggled then added, “I think that goes both ways.”

             
“Well good for them,” Natalie said as she injected Rain with the contents of the syringe.

             
“Yeah,” she agreed with a smile.  “Good for them.”

             
After that she took her pills and a gentle sleep rose up around her.

             
Rachel had dried out the shine bottle she’d poured over Dusty’s body and when the funeral was over she and Quey took their time collecting as much of him into it as possible.  There was no way to get all of him, she’d resigned herself to the fact before they lit him, and there was no way to keep from getting a bit of other stuff in there as well.  Mostly it was him though, and as she drove she kept him on the seat beside her.  It was strange to look over and see that where he should have been there was nothing but a clear glass bottle filled with dark particles.  She told Quey he could have some.  He told her to hold onto it for him.

             
She was following the van at a safe distance, fifty feet or so, with both hands on the wheel and the electronic speedometer reading an even one hundred fifty kilometers per hour.

             
Discomfort rolled through her wounds so she took another pain killer with a bit of water.  A few ticks later she felt better, but only physically.  Her eyes drifted to the bottle on the seat beside her.  ‘I know why you did it,’ she imagined his voice saying.

             
“Why I did what?” she replied aloud.

             
‘Why you set me on fire.  You couldn’t stand the idea of not being the hot one in this relationship anymore.’

             
She laughed sadly.  “You think this little burn would’ve made you the hot one?”

             
‘Of course.  I know you like to think differently but you weren’t all that far ahead of me you know.  Matter of fact that might just be the reason I didn’t put you out right away.’

             
Rachel wiped tears from her eyes.  “Fuck I’m going to miss you.”

             
Her eyes stared blankly at the vehicle in front of her for a spell.  Then she loosened her grip on the wheel.  It wavered slightly but the road was in good repair and the car was designed for speeds like this so she was able to keep herself rolling straight with just the tips of her fingers.  Next she removed her left hand and touched the tips of the fingers on her right to the bottom of the wheel.  Still it was enough for her to stay true.  One by one she removed fingers and imagined what would happen if the wheel suddenly jerked left or right.  She imagined the car veering onto the shoulder, the violent jarring it would take as it streaked across uneven ground and then the violent collision that would eventually occur as it plowed headlong into some solid object.  It would be inevitable because she had no intention of easing off the accelerator if such a thing would happen, matter of fact she might just stomp it to the floor.

             
The tip of her index finger was all that remained on the wheel as it vibrated and quivered under her touch.  Her eyes flooded.  She looked over at the glass bottle beside her, at the remains of her love resting on the seat beside her.  In her mind she saw his face smiling at her and she lifted her last finger from the wheel.  The car veered slightly, drifting toward the center of the road.  She looked forward and then, for the first time, something moved inside her and terror choked her forcing her to grip the wheel with both hands and slam on the breaks.  The tires shrieked as the car slid over thirty meters to a stuttering stop.  Laughing, she touched a hand to her belly and silently begged for whoever was in there to move again.

             
The other two vehicles stopped when they heard the tires squeal.  Doors opened and her friends rushed into the road, confusion possessing them as they hurried toward her sitting behind the wheel laughing.

             
“You alright?” Quey asked and Rachel burst from the car and jumped on him, throwing her arms around him.

             
“I’m fine,” she replied grinning and kissed him on the cheek.  He didn’t get it and he wouldn’t so she looked to Natalie and went to her.  “He moved,” she told her and instantly she understood and smiled.

             
“That’s wonderful,” Natalie said and hugged her.  “First time?” she asked and Rachel nodded.

             
“You knew?” Quey asked.

             
“Since the hospital,” Natalie replied.  “When we did her scan.”

             
He nodded as the pieces came together.

             
“What are we talking about?” Reggie asked.

             
“We’re talking about me being a mommy,” Rachel replied.

             
Reggie smiled, “Well I’ll be,” he trailed off, then he pulled Rachel to him and gave her a long hug.  “You think it’s a boy then,” he added when he let her go.

             
“I don’t know,” she replied with a smile and an—it doesn’t matter—shrug.

             
“Sure hope so,” Quey said.  “We’re creepin’ up on women outnumbering men around here pretty quick.”

             
Reggie cocked a smirk in Quey’s direction and said, in his deep booming voice, “That’s not always a bad thing.”  There was a laugh and then it was time to move on.  Natalie said she’d drive for a spell, giving Rachel a chance to take the passenger’s seat.  Rachel thought about telling her what she’d been doing before the baby moved but decided it didn’t matter anymore.  That particular desire was gone from her and she couldn’t believe it had ever been there.

The Girl and Her Father

             
Render sat in the back of his truck with a fresh bottle of dose in his right hand.  Dose was a drug, the good kind too.  The sort that was still illegal, which meant it did more than mellow you out and get you stoned.  Dose would open your mind and allow you to see things clearly.  Of course it would also lead you to believe the trees were shaking hands as you saw the world through the goggles of a thick euphoria.  This was just the sort of state of mind he was going for as he pulled the dropper from the top of the bottle and let a few drips land on his tongue.  The liquid was cool and bitter and sent a chill through him.  It wasn’t long before he was smiling.

             
The moonshiner had escaped him again.  So had the bitch and the boy.  He hated them, raw and deeply.  By the time he’d returned to the motel they’d fled already, a circumstance he’d suspected but now came the task of finding them again.

             
“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.