Under Dark Sky Law (3 page)

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Authors: Tamara Boyens

Tags: #environment, #apocalypse, #cartel, #drugs, #mexico, #dystopia, #music, #global warming, #gangs, #desert, #disaster, #pollution, #arizona, #punk rock, #punk, #rock band, #climate, #southwest, #drug dealing, #energy crisis, #mad maxx, #sugar skulls

BOOK: Under Dark Sky Law
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She did him the favor of gently cleaning his
neck wounds with the last bits of the soap. He let out a sharp
stream of air through his front teeth when she hit a big chunk of
raw skin. Their eyes locked, and there was more than just some
small discomfort in those blue orbs. She grabbed his hips and bit
his right nipple. It seemed like it wasn’t so cold in the shower
anymore.

 

They lay in bed again, and the sun was well
on its way to rising. Typically she liked the nights under the dark
sky law—they were peaceful in an old world sort of way. On good
nights you could even see the skies through the haze of ozone burn.
After the bizarre skeleton assault though, she would be glad for
the light and increased visibility of daylight.

Argon still felt like a nice warm furnace,
and she snuggled him with her head pressed against his chest. She
had the sheets balled up around them like a cocoon for
insulation.

“You’re never this affectionate,” he
said.

“The temperature must have dropped twenty
degrees in the last five hours,” she said, “And you almost got ass
raped to death. I hate you, but I don’t want you to die. You’d be a
pain in the ass to replace.” They were really all they had in the
world, and as hard as she was on everyone, she was almost afraid of
what she would become without the Grease Weasels there.

“Good to know,” he said, and squeezed her
body closer.

Normally that kind of affection would have
incited some kind of retaliation, but instead she just sighed.
There would be plenty of times in the future to smack him around
some more, or at least if she had anything to do about it they
would. Every day out there could be your last, and that’s the way
they lived. Plan for the future, but live for the day. It was odd
to think that there had once been a time when the worst thing she
had to deal with was what kind of steak she was going to serve for
that night’s dinner party, and if she had picked out a good enough
wine selection to avoid social embarrassment.

“We’re never going to get any sleep now,” she
said. “We probably shouldn’t even be lying down like this, but if
it’s just more of those skeleton creeps coming after us then we
don’t have much to worry about.”

He shifted in the bed. “That was my fault—I
shouldn’t have been so careless. If I’d been alone that might have
been it for me. But I’m not going to be able to sleep now anyway.
I’ll just dream of being ass raped or something—you should just get
some sleep and I’ll keep an eye out for trouble. It’s going to be a
long fucking day,” he said.

CHAPTER 3

Much to her surprise, she managed to get a
few hours of sleep. The smarter part of her thought it was foolish
to let Argon keep watch after he’d already fucked up once, but the
delegator in her said he would be more careful after reaping the
harsh consequences of letting his guard down in the flats. The
early morning passed without incident, and she was grateful for the
rest. Things were already going to be difficult enough with their
crew fractured like it was. Making big official runs was stressful
enough when they had everyone in place. Of course, she could have
asked the local supply chain to give her replacement crew members,
but there was no way she was willing to take the chance of trusting
someone that she wasn’t familiar with on a big run through multiple
eco-zones and districts.

In the light of day the blood stain on the
floor looked further from being cleaned than it had the night
before. She thought that they had done a reasonable job of mopping
up at least some of the biohazard, but there was a clear area
marked by a chunky stain that couldn’t be anything other than a
large pool of blood left to congeal over night. Fail. This job was
going to take them far out into uncharted lands, and they likely
wouldn’t be returning for a long while—there was too much
unfinished business in the pits for them to come all the way back
here again immediately. She only hoped that maggots and roaches and
other vermin didn’t try to move in while she was gone. Of course
this area didn’t have much in the way of species that could survive
the odd environmental conditions this deep into the flats. The
river made sure a steady supply of toxins seeped into every part of
the territory.

It was hard getting ready for dome screenings
when they had to be pre-processed in the flats. Not all
municipalities had those limitations, but the Phoenix Dome was a
huge pain in the ass about dome access. They weren’t without their
reasons for wanting to bog down the process—Arizona was cursed with
a political structure and cultural attitudes inherited from the old
world, and they had one of the biggest and most difficult to deal
with networks of outland pits. And Xero would know—she was the
boss.

Dome residents and officials were difficult
to deal with because they were still highly stuck on personal
appearances. Chumps. Out in the pits and the flats, those types of
shallow evaluations had come to a complete stop. In the way of old
school communism, the decreased social boundaries and limited
availability of various types of clothing and even basic services
like running water made it tacitly taboo to pass judgment on
someone based on something as stupid as their clothing. A better
way to judge someone was whether or not they’d jam an ice pick in
your kidney if you looked at them the wrong way.

“Do you want to check out that body before
Calavera’s thugs get here and drag it off to dismember it?” Argon
said.

He was wearing a tattered pair of
heart-studded boxers. At least he was smart enough to leave his
dome gear off until they were ready to go. Regulations with Dome
Drones prohibited them from carrying anything extra on their
person. So what they had was it. Fucking federalies were always up
their ass about one thing or another.

“Yeah, we should take a peek to see if we can
get any clues,” she said. “I’d know a genuine Calaca suit
anywhere.” Xero had slipped on a pair of dingy underwear and a
stained white tank top.

Argon squinched his face up at her, “And when
are we going to get cool work outfits like those,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a fucking
queen. We don’t need no stinkin’ badges,” she said and waited to
see if the young man recognized the reference. He had been born in
the domes, but he had been tossed out at an early age. No movies in
the pits. No recognition crossed his face, and she scoffed.
Figured.

“I don’t want a badge, I want a cool armored
uniform,” he said.

She walked two steps and gave his thigh a
light smack. “Armor is for pussies,” she said. “Go join Calavera if
you want to parade around in a retarded outfit. She’s still just
some two bit chola drug dealer. Stay with the Grease Weasels if you
want fame and fortune.”

He folded his arms, ignoring her swat like it
was mosquito bite. “Fortune, huh? Where’s this fortune you speak
of? And what about minions? Why don’t we have an army of minions to
do our bidding,” he said.

“Oh shut it. We’ve got more money than we
could ever even think of spending, in the domes or out of them. And
we’ve got minions aplenty—who the fuck do you think takes care of
all the mundane shit we can’t be bothered with? We’re just more
discreet. If you wanted to try and take down our power structure,
you’d be hard pressed to figure out who the fuck is even connected
with our organization. We do this work because it’s important—we
don’t leave crucial shit for underlings to fuck up. We don’t let
underlings come into any direct contact with the federalies. We do
it right. So let’s get serious. It’s the power you want, and it’s
power that we’ve got. Calavera can’t give you that. Also,” she said
and winked, “I’m a better lay—I would know.”

He grimaced. “I don’t know if I should be
disgusted or turned on,” he said.

Xero sauntered up behind him and grabbed his
ass. “Well, Papi, next time you see her, see if she’ll let you wet
your tip. She prefers pussy, but I hear she'll ride a dick every
now and again,” she said.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll keep it
in mind. And by keep it in mind, I mean no chance in hell. That
psycho bitch would probably just cut off my piece just for
funsies.”

She reached around the front of him and
grabbed his balls with her palm, hooking her thumb around the base
of his cock. “Good point. That would be inconvenient to me, seeing
as how this is my favorite part of yours,” she said and bit the
back of his neck.

A shudder ran through his body and he sighed.
“We don’t have time for this—you got a good nap in, and now we’re
going to be late to the domes if Calavera’s goonies don’t show up
soon,” he said and pulled away from her grip. He was right, but
that didn’t make it any less of a bummer.

“You,” she pointed an index finger at his
face, “are no fun,” she said. “But, thank you for the nap.” She
smiled and her eyes squinted into a cutesy face. The excitement of
the coming run was creeping up on her, and she was looking forward
to getting off on big squeezes of adrenaline.

“I’m supposed to help keep you in line, not
keep you entertained,” he said.

“Sounds like someone else needs a nap,” she
said. “Come on, today’s going to be fun. We get to fuck with the
Dome Drones and take a hike out to friggin Yuma. When’s the last
time you went to Yuma?”

He scratched the nape of his neck. “You’re
delusional—Yuma has never been a great place to visit.”

She blew a raspberry at him. “How would you
know? You were in diapers when Yuma finally got a Dome. That place
was a swinging underground hideaway before it domed up, but there’s
some great spots in the pits out there. Dome’s pretty laid back
too—we’ll probably be able to get away with staying somewhere fancy
like the Super 8 without even having to forge our Zone Passes.
Phoenix and San Diego are both too far away to fuck with them.
Every time I go by there, new weird shit pops up. Who knows what
we’ll find this time? Best of all, they left the dunes to the pits,
and I’m on good terms with the territory boss. He’ll let us borrow
a dune buggy for sure. You ever been cruising around in the
Imperial Dunes?” she asked.

He wrinkled his eyebrows and pulled his chin
back till it was squished against his neck. “Wow, you’re really
excited about this run,” he said.

Xero stopped and bit a fingernail, peering at
Argon’s expression. “And you’re really shaken. You still fucked up
about last night? Look dude, you were a spectacular dumb fuck
yesterday, but you’ve got to get over it. Move on. There’s time to
die another day. We’ve got slots and sluts waiting for us in Yuma,”
she said.
He turned towards the wall and bowed his head slightly. “That’s not
it,” he said.

It wasn’t something she liked to keep active
all the time, but Xero was actually uncannily good at reading
people’s emotions. It had been her job for nearly a decade, and she
had been damned good at it. In fact, it was what had allowed her to
rise to the top and take control of the greater Tucson pits.

“I know what it is,” she clucked her tongue
and pointed a finger at him. “It’s Trina.”

Argon turned a shade that got close to the
bright orange of his hair. He tried to compose himself, and a trace
of fear floated across his face. “Look, she’s my best friend is
all,” he said. “I’m just worried about her—She’s had the zaps for
almost a month now, and it’s not getting better.”

“You think I’m just going to stand by and let
her waste away? Why the hell do you think I agreed to do this run
even though we’re totally fucked for personnel? The whole reason I
took this job is so that we can smuggle some goddamn Ketocillin out
of the Phoenix storehouses while we’re moving cargo. Ever since
that last rip of lung zaps went through the flats they’ve been
super hardcore careful about how and where they store that drug.
Neptune and you have done a great job of learning to synthesize of
lot of the old world antibiotics, but none of that is working, and
trying to flash Ketocillin without a real manufacturing plant is a
tall order for anyone,” she said, her eyes gleaming with
determination.

She put her hands on her hips. “We don’t let
our own die anyone else’s hand, and that includes bugs and viruses.
Even if you guys drive me crazy, that’s a pact I made when I
brought you on board, and you can still count on that. Trina will
be better by the end of the week,” she said.

Argon released a lungful of air, relieved,
but a pensive look remained on his face. He opened his mouth to
speak, but Xero interrupted him.

“Don’t worry. I know you and Trina have
fucked, and I don’t give two shits. I’m sure Milo knows too, and he
doesn’t give a shit either,” she said. “Rule one of the Grease
Weasels—we could all die tomorrow, so you better be having some
fun. Fuck who you want, when you want. Just try not to get your
dick lopped off.”

He nodded, visibly relieved. “Well, in that
case, let’s go have some fun and play with that dead body,” he said
with faux enthusiasm.

She stuck out her tongue. “I’m putting you in
charge of poking at the body. I could also give two shits about
touching a corpse, but I swear to god I am not taking another
fucking cold shower before leaving for the dome.

He laughed. “I’ll be sure to get you a big
stick to poke it with. Good thing being respectful to the dead
isn’t in our code of ethics,” he said.

“Fuck respect. Nothing is as serious as a
cold shower.”

CHAPTER 4

 

One of the reasons they had chosen a slum
that was directly next to the river had been to try and vie for
some privacy. Under the abandoned underpass there were ruins of
hundreds of old houses, all abandoned decades ago after the river
had made it too polluted for anyone to live there for long without
developing horrendous health consequences. Skin peeling off?
Strange growths? Sudden death? Noxious odors? Their neighborhood
had it all, and that morning the odors were especially pungent.
Argon and Xero both had the apex of the resistance gene, giving
them strongest resilience against the environmental toxins, but
that morning even Xero was having trouble not letting her eyes blur
and water against the acrid fumes belching up from the remains of
the Verde River. Almost all the failed domes had been built
directly over rivers, and that ended up being their downfall.
Eventually, nature caught up with you if you didn’t run fast
enough. It was one reasons why Xero liked to keep running.

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