But a bandage might work.
One of the large square, flesh-colored and self-adhesive kind would be perfect. I could even play it off as needed, saying I’d scratched or cut myself if Wyst were to notice and comment on it.
Yeah, a bandage was perfect. I’d just have to buy a box when my too-curious companion wasn’t around.
Armed with fresh hope, I made my way back to the counter.
“Like I said, Wyst. I’d loved to help you folks, but I’ve only got the Blue Bonnet since my tow truck is outta commission. And no one sits in her driver’s seat, but me.” Old Pete sounded as sorry as Wyst looked at having to deny our request. “We might be able to go after I close, but then we’d be driving in the dark and the dark of that forest road is a black as a witch’s tit. Excuse the language, Miss Pam.”
“No worries, Pete,” I shot back, trying to keep my grin to myself. It wasn’t often nowadays to have a man apologize for his language, especially since my own speech was frequently peppered with words not anywhere near the socially-acceptable range. “So you could do it if you had someone to mind the pumps and store?”
My question brought both the men’s eyes to me, one gaze thankful and the other thoughtful.
“Pro’lly,” Pete replied slowly. “You got retail experience, little lady?”
“Yep. And unless your system is different from that of any other, I can handle both gas and goods.” One of the three jobs I’d worked had been at one of the local gas station chains with a similar setup to Pete’s back in Phoenix. “I think I can handle things for the hour or two it might take you guys to get my stuff. In fact, it’s the least I could do to thank you for helping.”
Old Pete was quiet for a few moments as his eyes went from the forecourt where his gas pumps stood in silent sentry, to the store and then to me and Wyst as he considered my offer. I saw Wyst’s grip on the edge of the glass countertop and began to realize how much the trip meant to him although I couldn’t tell you why. It wasn’t like the alien thought he was responsible for my happiness in retrieving the crap I’d brought with me. Something that absolutely wasn’t true.
But it would be wonderful if I could get my shit before I had to show up for work.
“That’ll work for me. But keep in mind, I got security cameras and the register don’t lie,” Pete finally announced, pointing a finger at various corners inside the store. “Myrtle’s also been heard talking around town about the two trouble makers who forced her to do a deal for a week’s worth of rent. So I know where you’re staying.”
“Forced her, my ass—,” I sputtered before Wyst shot a hand out to cover my mouth.
“It is a deal, Pete. But do you have a length of rope we can use? The road to our transport is very bad, with pot holes and bumps that are sure to be a danger to your mercantile.” I didn’t like it but my alien companion made sense in asking for something to help him go down and then back up that mountainside. All except for the mercantile part.
“My what?” Old Pete shot back in confusion, cupping his hand behind his ear as if he didn’t hear Wyst properly. “You mean my Mercedes?”
“Yes,” Wyst shot back quickly with a head shake at how he’d fucked the English words up. “Your Mercedes, not mercantile. A word that means ‘store’, does it not?”
Pete’s eyes took on a look of suspicion but it wasn’t in his voice when he answered. “Don’t know, but I do know I’ve got enough rope to see you all the way back to Arizona.”
“That’d be great,” I announced maybe a touch too loudly while wondering how the two of them, the old human and the unschooled alien, were going to do in the couple of hours they’d be stuck in each other’s company. “Anything you need to, uhm, show me before you guys hit the road?”
After a ten minute training session, Pete grabbed a set of keys and signaled to Wyst they were going to leave by way of the service garage.
“I will see you later, mica leca purvya,” Wyst growled as he came to stand closer than I considered polite. Putting a hand on my waist, he leaned down and kissed the top of my head, much like a parent would do with a child, which kinda made me mad. “Stay out of trouble while I am gone.”
Fuck you, dickhead, I managed to shoot back deciding the whole Mycalyte whatchamacallit was actually a good thing when you wanted to tell someone off without everyone else getting in on your convo. Stay safe and try not to piss Pete off, all right?
You do the same. I will be in touch throughout my endeavor to secure and return your belongings.
As the men left, I heaved a great sigh of relief. The fact was, I hadn’t really had a moment to myself since we’d met the Picari bunch and I’d felt the pressure of always being ‘on’ with little to no ‘me time’ in order to recharge and regroup. As I watched a navy blue, late model Mercedes join Wayward’s main drag, I immediately went back to where I’d seen the bandages and grabbed three boxes. Ringing them up I cringed at the price, but there was no help for it. They were a necessity even at almost six dollars a box.
After applying one and dropping the others into my purse, I reached for my tresl in order to call Leah. Because with all I’d gone through that morning I was desperate to talk to her and get her take on my new bit of unasked for and definitely unwanted bit of bio-jewelry.
And as I heard her happy yelp of, “Hey girl!” I knew I’d done the right thing in taking my alone time and shifting it in connecting with my best friend. And it took more than a few minutes to get through her latest news: about the size of her baby bump (which was large enough to be deemed a ripe watermelon), the size of her boobs (huge as in not quite the size of casabas but definitely bigger than cantaloupes) and the flattening/browning of her navel (a description that found me scrunching up my nose in the ‘eww’ position though I didn’t comment).
As well as how wonderful Rykhan was and how lonely the ranch felt without anyone but the two of them there. She called it rustic, citing there wasn’t a dishwasher or central heating and air. But it had a fireplace she said was to die for as well as lots of cozy pieces of furniture to curl into, making it warm enough if you used the plethora of afghans piled around the house and a hot alien by your side.
And keeping in that vein, I gave my own news. About how Wyst and I had done the nasty the night before, generating more questions than I had answers for, and then I dropped the bomb.
The big bomb.
About my wahrom.
And as I did, my girl went totally silent for more than a few seconds. Long enough for me to pull the tresl from my ear to check to see if we were still connected.
“Holy shit, Pam. You know what this means, don’t you?”
I rolled my eyes at both her words and her doom-and-gloom tone. “Yep.”
“It means the two of you are mates! That you are his one true and legitimate mate and what Tsiran brought together, let no man put asunder.”
I shook my head, trying to deny her words. “Gyed. Not Tsiran, but Gyed. She’s the goddess Wyst worships.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Same difference, though. The supreme being who got you two together.”
“We aren’t together, Leah. We did the deed, and I, like, grew a piece of metal on my wrist and he doesn’t know a goddamn thing about it.”
“Wait. What?” I didn’t know if it was the hormones coursing through her system or what but she’d seemed a little too emotionally invested in the metal I’d grown. “You haven’t told him?”
“Hell, no! What do you think I am, crazy or something?” Christ, just the thought of Wyst finding out about it had my heart thumping like a drum solo in a metal band. “Why would I since you and I both know he doesn’t want anything long term. No matter what his goddess decrees.”
I unconsciously brought my thumb to my mouth to nibble at a little hangnail as I waited for her to respond. Luckily I didn’t have long to wait.
“That’s true. He’s always said he wanted to play the field before getting stuck with just one female as a mate.”
“And I’ve certainly never been in the market for a forever-and-ever guy, so this is a screw-up of the worst sort.” I felt it was important to get my feelings out there, have all of them out in the open. To talk about my worries and concerns regarding what my new bit of jewelry signified, but absolutely was convinced wasn’t true. For once, the Picarian god/goddess had made a mistake and I was living proof. “Especially if that asshole is supposed to be my ‘one and only’.”
“You still aren’t getting along? I thought by now you two would’ve been able to bury the hatchet or something.”
“We’re trying.” It was the best I could offer her, but when compared with what she and her alien husband shared? Safe to say, romance wasn’t part of my and Wyst’s ‘thing’. “It’ll be okay. As long as I can hide it from him, everything will be all right. But don’t tell Ryk, okay? I don’t need any of the warriors to know.”
“I got you, girl,” she said with a laugh. “Tell one of those hunks…”
“And you’ve told them all,” I completed with a smile of my own. Yeah, me and my bestie were on the same page. We reluctantly said our goodbyes and I checked the time on the register. Pete and Wyst had been gone forty-five minutes.
I only hoped things were going good for them.
*.*.*.*.*
“So you know where we’re going?,” Pete asked, hanging one elbow out his open window seeming to enjoy the cool breeze that invaded the car. Wyst wasn’t a fan of cool or of cold but he didn’t complain since he was more than aware the man was doing him and Pam a huge favor.
Holding up his tresl, Wyst pushed a couple of buttons and a map appeared. “Yes. Our transport originally broke down on what is marked as a fire road. We will need to climb down a hill in order to obtain her belongings.”
Pete chuckled and ran a hand across his mouth. “What you mean we, Kemosabe? I ain’t gonna do shit except wait until you go down and come back up. I’m too old to do any climbing.”
Actually, that was a better plan for Wyst because it meant he wouldn’t have to ensure the safety of the older man. And the human wouldn’t have any access to their enhanced transport, visual or otherwise. “That is fine. I can probably move faster if I am alone.”
“So how’d you meet such a fine girl as your Pam anyway?” Wyst knew Pete was just doing the human speak of trying to get to know him, but even with that knowledge he felt the old man’s question was delving into his privacy.
“We met at a speed-dating event held at a hotel.”
“Whooee, I’ve heard about them things!” Pete seemed to get some sort of special pleasure at Wyst’s admission. “Was it the kind where you only get so many minutes with each woman before you move on to the next?”
“Yes. I was there with my br…friend. He found his mate and I met my Pam.”
Pete chuckled and shook his head in what Wyst thought was wonder. “And how long ago was that?”
“A few weeks ago.” Wyst considered the lines of the old man’s questions and decided to answer truthfully, although he wouldn’t have any trouble lying if the occasion called for it. “Our, ah, relationship is rather new.”
“I can tell it ain’t been long since you folks are still in the honeymoon phase.”
Wyst searched to understand what that was but found he didn’t have a reference point for the word ‘honeymoon’, at least not the way Pete had used it. “Honeymoon?”
“Yeah, you know. When you still are all moony-eyed and plumb crazy to jump back in the sack at any given second?” Wyst thought about the ideas Pete was spouting more than his actual words, which didn’t make any sense when Wyst parsed them.
So he only nodded. “Have you ever been married or in a relationship with a fe…erm, woman?”
“Married for forty-six wonderful years to my Martha. Lord took her, though. Been five years come December. Miss her every goddamn day she’s been gone.”
“How did your Martha…go?” Wyst wasn’t quite sure what Pete meant by ‘gone’. Had the woman run away? Been taken?
“Cancer of the female plumbing,” he said in a quiet, solemn voice. “Best woman on the face of the earth who was taken too soon. Makes a man wonder about the good Lord’s wisdom, you know?”
Ah, Wyst got it. Pete’s mate had died and the man still mourned her loss.
They rode the next couple of miles in quiet, with nothing but the sound of the wind to break their silence.
“Big Jim was around this morning,” Pete started and from his hesitancy in continuing Wyst found himself tensing. “He’s with the sheriff’s office.”
A sidelong glance directed to his passenger seemed to warn Wyst of something but the younger man was unsure of what exactly.
“Seems Butch Jackson and those two hellions he claims as nephews ran into a bit of trouble. What kind of trouble is anyone’s guess, but Big Jim says all three were pretty banged up. And all three of them knuckleheads swear their injuries were because of a ruckus with a big guy and a little blonde, big-busted gal. Swore up and down the pair had stolen Butch’s truck too but Big Jim found it in a ditch just outside of town.”
Wyst remained silent and kept his eyes on the ribbon of highway in front of the truck.
“Big Jim wanted to know if I’d seen any strangers in town.” Pete shot another glance his way and Wyst felt his best response was to return it. “Had to tell him no. And it weren’t lying since you and I’d already done our howdy-do yesterday morning.”
Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Wyst, felt himself relax a bit. “That is true.”
“But the two fellas who showed up right before I closed up last night—well, they had pictures of both you and your woman.” The old man’s words caused a renewed flare of alarm to shoot through him, freezing both his muscles and his breath. “Just thought you should know.”
“Who were they? Did you know them?”
Pete shook his head in the negative. “Nope. Never seen them before. And believe you me, with the way they were dressed, I would’ve remembered them alright. Some sort of uniform kind of thing, like the costumes you see on those science fiction shows. Only these were all black.”
Wyst had his suspicions but he needed to know more. Deliberately willing himself to relax, he propped an elbow on the edge of his window. “Notice anything else about them, other than their clothing?”
There was only the sound of the wind rushing through the car for a couple of heartbeats.
“Yeah,” Pete finally replied. “They didn’t say a goddamn word, but used their cellphones to ask if I’d seen either one of you. Held it close to my mouth when I answered too.”
Of course they would. Because they hadn’t learned how to speak English. “And how did you answer, my friend?”
Pete looked at him in confusion. “Why, told ‘em the truth, of course! I didn’t wanna lie or nothing but they gave me an out when they asked me a second time and included the word ‘recently’.” The old man gave off a chuckle that turned into a cough. “Yeah. When they added that, I could honestly tell them ‘no’.”
Wyst sat back further in his seat, his mind racing. It had to be someone from the Searcher, whether part of the crew or Dr. Jyrl’s staff. But how had they discovered his location?
“But after two visits in two days, I gotta ask. Are you and your woman in some kind of jam?” Wyst knew he’d be equally as curious if their roles were reversed and felt Pete deserved an answer.
“No, we are not. We are, however, in disagreement with my former…employer.” That was about as much as he felt was safe to admit. “Thank you for your help.”
Old Pete nodded and ran a hand over his mouth. But it wasn’t long before he started talking again. Wyst wondered if the man’s need for conversation stemmed from simple curiosity or if he was just lonely.
“So where’re you from, buddy? ‘Cause sure as shooting you weren’t born in the good, ole U.S.A.”
“How can you tell I’m not American?” The fact the old man had worked out Wyst’s alien status bothe
red him more than he was willing to show, and he was already riding the sharp edge of panic in knowing he was being tracked. “Is it that obvious?”
“Maybe not for some,” Pete drawled. “But I gotta an ear for them things. The whole Russian twang you got gives you away to those of us who pay attention.” He nodded and slapped his hand on the steering wheel in emphasis before shooting Wyst a wink. “And I pay attention.”
Wyst made a mental note to reuse the English speech tapes with the regional setting in addition to his nightly reading exercises which, even after only one night of use, found him at least able to ‘see’ the American alphabet. Causing it to shift from curious squiggles into shapes with meaning.
“In fact, you sorta speak like my friend, C’ynyt. And although he’s never told me the name of his town, I just know he’s from the old U.S.S.R. Just like you.” Wyst couldn’t help but remember the sign on the only bar in town and wondered if the old man was talking about the owner. The one who he was sure was a Basule.
“Sigh nit?” Wyst echoed Pete’s words, trying for the old man’s same inflections in what he was sure could be a name. At least in the old Baspic language it was. Which logic told him could be the name of the person who owned the Dr’ala.
Pete sighed and shifted himself in the seat before answering. “He’s a good guy and one of the only ones in Wayward I can call ‘friend’. But he had a tough go of it when him and his Blythe bought Tommy Weston’s old crappy pub and the Harrelson’s Laundromat. Especially ‘cause he never showed up for any of the sales or licensing and shit. Let his Blythe do all the face-to-face gooblety-goop.”
Wyst’s driver shook his head in what Wyst thought was a remembered recollection. “Small towns can be good with its sense of community and all. Or it can be a hell-hole of judgments and whispers. Took years for all but a select few to realize C’ynyt and Blythe are good people. The best. But I wouldn’t go repeating that to Ms. Myrtle.”
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