The Saffron Malformation (74 page)

             
He nodded and corrected, “Interesting,” then leaned in to kiss her gently.

             
“Will you have sex with me?” she whispered to him.

             
He touched his forehead to her’s and looked into her eyes.  “I believe I mean to.”  His hands ran down her back, around her hips then up to her face again, where he cupped her cheeks and brought her in for another kiss.

             
Ryla stood and walked toward the end of the bar, her hand unzipping her dress as she moved.  She let it fall to the ground and stepped from it gracefully, without missing a step.  Underneath she was wearing nothing.  She looked over her shoulder and gave him a lustful glance before moving through a swinging door.  Quey stood and followed after her, a bit of haste in his step.

             
He found her lying on a sofa in what looked to be a break room.  Aside from the sofa there was a round table with a few chairs around it, a sink and some cupboards above and below a countertop.

             
Ryla sat up on her elbows and looked at him.  “Coming in?” she asked.

             
Quey wrestled his clothes off, gazing at her body, long firm legs, flat stomach, the swell of her hips, the V of her torso.  Naked and pulsing he moved toward her, she took him in her mouth for a bit but she lacked experience in that department so after a tick or two he joined her on the couch, settling atop her.

             
“Damn you’re beautiful,” he whispered as he ran his hands over her skin, settling his palm on the subtle but supple swell of her breast.  He leaned in and tickled her nipple with his tongue for a moment and she sighed softly and trembled a bit.

             
“Holy shit,” she said and he looked up at her.  “Apparently you can’t do tongues either.”

             
Quey laughed, but she looked at him with eagerness and pulled him toward her.  His smile faded as he finally sunk into her and it felt amazing.  She was very soft and wet and warm, so much so that he almost lost himself right off, but he managed to stop thinking about it and focused on her.

             
“Oh wow,” she sighed.  As he moved he watched her experience sex with a person for the first time.  He took it slow, letting her settle into it.  As they moved together on the couch Ryla, who’d always spoken with a clinical eloquence was suddenly reduced to groans and cussing.  When he playfully asked her, “Are you enjoying my performance of this particular function?”  She replied, “Shut the fuck up and fuck me.”

             
That particular response elicited something primal in him so he moved into a position where he had a degree of control and obliged her, filling the room with wet slapping sounds and loud groans.  Sweat broke over their skin as an orgasm slowly boiled up in Ryla’s loins.  She gripped him and pulled him against her and cried out as pleasure shuddered through her and lingered, a sustained sensation she’d never known.  He kissed her neck, his hands swarmed over her, his cock worked deep inside her and as meticulously as her programming of boyfriend had been, as another orgasm swelled and burst through her she knew she’d failed.

             
At some point he was behind her and then she ended up atop him, rolling her hips to the rhythm of some melodic melody only she could hear, rising and falling and grinding and swelling him to his limit with her elegant dance.  His hands moved over her body, caressing her flesh, squeezing her ass and tits as she tightened around him and writhed.  At some point she found her groove and it took everything he had to keep from bursting.  Ryla spasmed again and sat hard on him, sinking him deep into her, hips rolling while her insides gripped.

             
“I’m going… I think,” he said incoherently between breaths and groans.

             
Ryla slid off him and laid back on the couch, rubbing the glistening lips between her thighs and said, “Go ahead.”

             
He pounced on her, plunging deep and moving with a vigorous need.  She rested her hands on his shoulders, ran them down his arms, feeling the tightness of his Muscles as he plunged inside her.  Finally he looked into her eyes and kissed her just before she felt him spasm and sigh one final time.  He kissed her again before settling atop her.

             
“Wow,” she said after a moment.

             
He looked at her.  “What?”

             
She smiled up at him.  “I never knew…”

             
He kissed her again and they lay together on the couch for a number of ticks, her hands gently running up and down his damp back, his playing in her hair.  Finally she asked, “Would you like to do it again?”

             
He looked at her and smiled.

              Rachel lay on her bed with pillows propped under her and her sheet computer lying beside her.  She was looking down at her belly, which was beginning to show the first signs of swelling.  She stroked it gently.  Someone was moving around in there.

             
She had to admit she was growing more afraid everyday.  This path her life had taken was proving dangerous.  When it came to her she didn’t mind much but when it came to whoever was trying to form inside her that was another tale.  It wasn’t just her baby, it was the last bit of Dusty left to the world and she meant to see it live.  To die trying wasn’t an option she was willing to entertain, if any of this was going to kill her it was going to be after.

             
The thought unnerved her so she drifted from it and began trying to form a list of names again.  She tried to pick ones she thought Dusty might like.  She imagined if he was there, lying beside her, he’d start off not taking any of this seriously.  He’d be cracking wise, saying things like, ‘if it’s a girl I want to name her facetious, that way boys’ll know not to take her seriously.’

             
“What if it’s a boy?” she asked the empty room quietly.

             
‘If it’s a boy we should name him Sue.’

             
Tears prickled in her eyes as she laughed.

             
‘No to Sue hu?  How about Baco Bargoon?  I just like the sound of it.  It makes me laugh.’

             
Reggie asked Botler for some trash to shoot at and the robot had mustered up boxes of old cans and bottles and even some fruits that were on the brink of going bad.  The big man set them up on the edge of the rooftop and had Natalie, Arnie, and Amber firing rounds until the sun went down.  By the end of the day he felt as if they’d made some real progress, at least enough so as they wouldn’t die easy and without making a fight of it.

             
None of them showed the natural proficiency for the rifle that Rachel had, but they handled one well enough, and all of them got control of a pistol better than she had.  That was good, because inside pistol range was a dangerous place to be, especially if you don’t know how to handle one.

             
Rain and Leone sat together on the sofa in the living room, using one of the holographic interfaces to render a three-dimensional image of the house they’d grown up in.  Rain, especially, recalled every detail, down to light switches and plugs and breaker boxes.  They worked through it slowly, trying to ignore the reality of what they were doing.

             
As they formed their brother’s rooms on the screen Leone asked, “Do you think they’re like him?”

             
Rain looked over at him.  “You know them, what do you think?”

             
“I don’t think they are, but I think they’re convinced they want to be.”

             
Rain hugged him and kissed his cheek.  “I think you’re right.”

             
“Can we save them, you think?”

             
Rain shook her head.  “It’s all they’ve ever known.  I was left alone because I was a girl, and for you it was because he already had his boys.”

             
“No,” Leone said, hugging her back.  “You saved me from that.”

             
The air was getting heavier.  “Come on,” she said.  “We need to finish this.”

             
The brother and sister sat together on the couch and finished forming a tactical map of the house they’d grown up in.

             
That night, after a meager dinner, Quey climbed to the rooftop where he found Rachel sitting in a chair near the edge watching the Once Men standing around a fire charring something they’d caught.  He crossed to her and sat in a chair beside her.

             
“Funny place to find you sitting.”

             
She shook her head, “Not really.  I’m up here a lot.”

             
“It is a lovely view.”

             
“I’m not here for the scenery.  I’m here in case the brood comes creeping around again.”

             
“Suppose you mean to put that to use, should that occur,” he said, indicating the rifle resting against the ledge in front of her.

             
“I want to kill them,” she told him.

             
“Me too,” he replied.

             
“I hate them.”

             
“I know.”

             
She looked over at him and touched his hand.  “I hate them.  Not you.”

             
He smiled at her and replied, “I know.”

             
Silence came and for a spell they looked up rather than out.  There were no lights for who knew how man kilometers so you could see all manner of stars floating overhead.  “He was a good man,” she finally said.  Her eyes drifted back to the Once Men’s flickering firelight and the shadows that moved around it.

             
“He and I did a lot of bad in our time,” Quey admitted solemnly, then added, “But I believe he was.”

             
Rachel looked at him.  “You are too.”

             
“Maybe.”

             
“Is that why you’re taking on all this shit?” she asked him.  He looked out at the light.  “You think this is some sort of redemption.”

             
“Gave up on that a long time ago,” he told her.  “No such thing in an existence nasty as the one we find ourselves.”

             
“Why do you say that?”

             
“We live in a place where stomping on others is rewarded with wealth.  Where if a man’s greedy and cruel enough he becomes the most powerful one on a planet.  Turning your back on the hardships of others is called good business sense, and goes hand in hand with giving a person as little for their pockets as you can for their time, then giving them as little product as possible for what’s in those pockets.  That’s why people in the settlements, the ones outside the cities do so much business with roaders, you know.”  Rachel looked at him.  “Because we’ll give them a fair trade and a bit of quality.  All the corporates want to do is undercut and oversell.  They can be light on cost but what do you get in exchange, a poor facsimile of what was once a great product.”

             
The Once Men howled into the night sky.

             
“Sometimes I look at them and think they have the right idea.”

Rachel glanced at him, a touch of shock in her eyes.

“I mean we live in a world where even the raiders are corporate.  You know, I never agreed with what the brood was or the things they did, but at least they were doing their own thing and keeping clear of all that.”

             
“Quey,” Rachel said softly and he looked at her.  That was all she said and Quey nodded.  He understood.  The situation had gotten out of hand, it’d gone too far and now the only way out was through but that was a dangerous road.

             
“I keep seeing him just collapse,” she said after a set of ticks.  “Like that.  Life,” she snapped her fingers, “into nothing.”  Quey wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she said, “I don’t want to see that again.”

             
He wanted to assure her that she wouldn’t but he didn’t like to lie.

             
Everyone was in bed, everyone, that was, save Quey Von Zaul who sat on the couch under the dim glow of Ryla’s elaborate and beautifully painted night sky with a bit of whiskey and the last remnants of a handful of ice cubes melting slowly in a glass.  He brought the glass to his lips and took a slow swallow before looking up at a nebula she’d painted near the center of the room.  A beautiful blend of pink and purple with hints of yellow and blue and red and it glowed so perfectly that for a moment he thought he saw the gases that formed it churning above him in a slow attempt to form a star.