Chromeheart

by Alia Hess

  “No! No jumping. Come on.” Dusty walked forward, shoulders back and head high, but she stopped at the bridge’s edge.

  Sasha pushed the cart next to her. “Hey, get in. Shut your eyes. I’ll push you across.”

  “No. I don’t like that idea.”

  He scratched his head. Had he or the surveillance team taken photos of this area yet? Maybe if he hadn’t goofed off so much, the map would be complete and actually be useful—

  Dusty grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together, and Sasha’s heart jumped.

  She looked up at him. “Don’t let go, okay? Come on.”

  Her soft, delicate hand felt very nice in his. “You are brave girl.”

  “Shut up.”

  He pushed the cart onto the bridge, holding Dusty’s hand tightly. They stepped over the metal seam connecting the highway. Dusty looked at her feet, breathing audibly.

  “Teach me something in Russian.”

  “Uh, okay. You say this: ‘privet.’”

  “Privet.”

  “Yes. That’s means, ‘hi.’ Now say, ‘moya imya Dusty.’”

  “Privet. Moya imya Dusty.”

  Sasha weaved around a missing chunk of concrete, pulling her by the hand. “Oh, your Russian sounds so sexy. Good job. You said, ‘Hi. My name is Dusty.’”

  She glanced ahead momentarily, then back at her feet. “You better teach me something else. This is a long bridge.”

  “Say, ‘vse khorosho.’ Everything is okay.”

  “Vse kh—horosho. Everything is okay.” She said it again, muttering it like a mantra.

  The cart clattered past fractures and bits of exposed gridwork, then rolled over some of the spongy red plants huddled in the cracks. The vegetation squelched and bright red liquid gushed onto the pavement. Photos of bloody streets on his tablet surfaced in Sasha’s mind and he made a small noise in his throat and covered his mouth.

  Dusty looked at him, wide-eyed. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” He tried to mask the grimace on his face, but Dusty’s expression told him he wasn’t doing a very good job.

  Her lip twitched and she stopped. Sasha pulled at her hand, but she stood firm, eyes like saucers as she stared at the opposite end of the bridge. She sucked in a breath, chest shuddering.

  “Come on. You don’t want to stand here all day. Nothing is wrong.”

  She squeezed his hand in a death grip, still staring ahead. Sasha stepped in front of her and scooped an arm around her waist, grunting as he lifted her off the ground. She wasn’t very big, but he wasn’t very strong, either.

  “What are you doing? Stop! Put me down!” She clutched his neck, whimpering.

  Sasha staggered across the last stretch of bridge. Dusty released her stranglehold and flopped onto her back in the grass alongside the road. “Ugh. Glad that’s over.”

  Sasha panted. “You did great. You are tough woman.” He retrieved the cart and pushed it to the road’s shoulder, then sat down.

  “Don’t patronize me.” Dusty looked at the sky. “I know it’s stupid.”

  “Everyone is afraid of something. Can’t be badass all the time, you know?”

  She sat up. Her face fell into its well-trained glower, then dissolved into a smile, amber eyes holding his. Sasha looked away.

  Dusty said, “You know, I used to run with this gang back east, after I killed my Boss. It was okay for a while, I had this… well, I thought of her as my sister. She looked out for me. But then she left to do her own thing, and I was on my own. Most of the kids were older than me, so I had to work twice as hard to gain their approval. I tried to look angry all the time. Never show weakness. I’d pick fights with people just to show off. And if I got a big cut, you know what I’d do?”

  “No.”

  “Even if it really hurt, I’d laugh and say, ‘that’s it?’ Then sometimes I’d lick the blood just for good measure.”

  He grimaced and Dusty laughed. “That face you’re making right now? That’s what I wanted. I wanted people to be disgusted and scared of me. Because if they weren’t… then they would use me. And I’m not talking about a fair trade. They would take what they wanted and I got nothing in return.”

  Sasha drew up his knees. “You know, you don’t have to be tough with me. I would not do that to you.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m telling you this.”

  “And I’m sorry for wanting to trade with you before. When you wanted my drone. It wasn’t right. Even if you were same age as me, that’s like… prostitute.” The word left a rotten taste in his mouth and conjured memories of a dirty alley, smeared purple lipstick, and an empty wallet. “I really don’t want you to be that.”

  Dusty’s eyes grew glossy and her lip quivered. Then she smiled and shrugged. “Hey, wouldn’t have been the worst trade I’ve done. You’re a cute guy, and I thought I was going to get a drone out of it, so…”

  Sasha shook his head. “I am disgusting pig like everyone says.”

  “Then I guess I am too for offering.” She shifted and her snake tattoo peeked out from under her shirt collar.

  “I like your tattoo.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Dusty pulled down on the collar, revealing more. “Thanks.”

  “I have tattoos too. You want to see?”

  “You have tattoos?”

  “Yeah. How come when I tell you something cool, you don’t believe me? Look.” Sasha pulled off his shirt and pointed to the huge dragon meandering down his side.

  “Wow. That’s… Wow.” Dusty traced her finger down the dragon’s path and Sasha squirmed, his skin erupted in goosebumps. “I’m impressed. It’s way better than my snake.”

  “Is dragon from comic book in Russia.”

  “I’m no longer impressed.”

  Grass flipped from Sasha’s shirt as he shook it out, grinning, and pulled it back on.

  “What are your others?”

  “Uh, other one you don’t want to see. Is on my ass.”

  Dusty laughed.

  “Stupid, anyway. I got when I was drunk. I don’t even remember.”

  She hopped to her feet. “I have some others too that I’m not going to show you.”

  Sasha’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, you going to make my imagination go crazy.”

  She grinned. “You picturing me naked right now?”

  Heat crawled into Sasha’s cheeks. Maybe it was better if he kept his mouth shut for once. He stood. Rays of orange were sliding into the blue sky and tingeing the clouds a soft pastel.

  “You know what I just realize? I have no tent or sleeping bag for camping.”

  “I’m sure a guy like you doesn’t have a problem finding a bed.”

  Is this discomfort what women feel when I say dirty things to them at the bar?

  Sasha frowned and gripped the cart, pushing it down the road. He shoved it over a gap, then scanned the horizon for a potential place to stay the night.

  “What’s the matter with you all of the sudden? You finally run out of innuendo?” Dusty asked.

  “I’m just not used to have girl throw it back at me. In bars sometimes they do, but most womens do not like it. You are laughing at my jokes and making jokes back.”

  Dusty looked at him incredulously. “Well, yeah. What kind of ‘womens’ you hang around with? Not fun ones, obviously.”

  Was Irina fun? Sasha tried to think of a time when she’d laughed at his jokes and only came up with scoffs and eye rolls. She had kissed him, and slept with him once, long ago. But she didn’t love him—didn’t even like him. Would I have even been happy with her? Always so serious. Never wanted to go anywhere with me.

  He glanced at Dusty. She had her hands in her pockets, staring at him with one eyebrow cocked, the smallest of simpers on her lips. Irina never looked at me the way Dusty does, and I’ve only known Dusty one day.

  “You going to share your sleeping bag with me if I don’t find bed?”

  “There it is!” Dusty laughed. She nudged him. “That depends.�
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  He raised his eyebrows. “On what?”

  “How cold I get tonight.”

  “Then I’m going to pray for snow, baby.”

  She grinned and shook her head. “Next abandoned place we find, let’s stop for the night. Maybe tomorrow we can find some electronics to scav. You’re gonna be my appraiser. You can tell me if they’re worth anything.”

  “Well, maybe. But I don’t know what people think is worth it. Why you need lot of money, anyway? You got mafia after you?”

  Dusty laughed. “No. It’s… well, it’s not a long story, but you don’t know anything about the East, so I need to explain some stuff. Let’s find a place to stop first.”

  Upper class houses corralled with wrought iron fences appeared on the left. Thick green vines, like tentacles from the deep, choked the homes into submission. A few had crumbled completely. Ahead, the road narrowed and veered into a town.

  “Lady’s pick. Where we going to stay? You want to go into town?”

  “Uh, how about that strip mall?” She pointed to a sprawling stretch of buildings circling a parking lot. “One of the places in there will probably be good.”

  Static was returning to Sasha’s head. He bent over, putting his hands on his thighs.

  “Get in.” Dusty pulled at his arm, but he shrugged her off.

  “No. We are almost there.”

  “And if you pass out before we get there, I won’t be able to pick you up. Sit down.”

  Sasha slumped into the cart. Dusty grunted and pushed, nosing it toward the parking lot of the strip mall. Hunks of vehicles littered the area, and slender, snapped lampposts criss-crossed over the mess like spilled toothpicks. A curl of smoke snaked into the sky beyond.

  “Hey, wait. There is campfire or something.” Sasha tried to blink away the ink of unconsciousness from his vision.

  “Yeah, I see that. That’s okay. I like talking to people.”

  “But what if they are not nice?”

  “Then I won’t talk to them anymore.”

  Sasha’s head lolled and he jerked up with a start.

  “Whoa, hang in there.” Dusty smacked his cheek lightly. “Almost there.”

  Dark motes swirled before his eyes. He squeezed his lids shut, but they were in his head as well. The cart rolled past a vehicle that was more rust than anything else, one side of the strip mall growing closer in his narrow, darkened vision.

  He stood in the surveillance bunker, Dr. Krupin before the monitor bank. Sasha squeezed the superhero statue tightly in his sweaty hand, face carved with conviction, then raised the statue high above his head and swung it as hard as he could. It passed right through Krupin, useless.

  Krupin pulled the trigger.

  The people screamed. Skin and blood oozed off of their faces and splattered on the ground. Pigeons stepped in it and got stuck. Drippy blobs of liquid flesh covered Red Square.

  Sasha gasped, staring at the sagging ceiling of a dark building, must and decay assaulting his senses. Cold sweat ran down his neck as he sat up, and the filthy mattress beneath him creaked. Dozens of them lined the room—the rotted mattresses and metal bed frames outlined in a soft orange glow.

  Sasha shook his head and peered out the big front windows, but they were so caked in dust that nothing was visible save for the breath of sunset. The cart sat beside the bed, their bags and water jugs still inside. The almost imperceptible camouflaged drone hovered by the cart.

  “Irina. Standby.”

  It was just a dream. Just a dream, but those people are still dead.

  Sasha rubbed his forehead, face pinched, then took a drink of water. He staggered up and walked out the front door. Strip mall stores ran to either side. Campfire smoke billowed in peach and champagne from somewhere close by.

  Voices drifted, along with the scent of gamey, charred meat mixing with the ancient oil of the parking lot. Sasha rounded the front end of a van and warily approached the campfire. Three figures sat there, fire-glow throwing severe shadows across their features. Blonde braids adorned the woman on the end. The man next to her sported a long beard nearly the same shade as their fire, and a strange series of rods replaced one of his arms, ending in a skeletal metal hand. The person on the end was indeterminate, decked in flowing rags of various dingy shades. A hood covered the figure’s head, filling their face with darkness.

  The three looked up as Sasha neared. “Uh, hey. You seen girl I’m with? Bald head girl?”

  The bearded man spit out a chunk of gristle and set down the leg of meat in his hand. Tiny silver rings in his beard glinted in the light as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah. She’s around. Sit down. You hungry? We killed this dog and there’s way more than the four of us can eat.”

  “Uh, no thanks.” Sasha sat on a cinder block and eyed the woman next to him. “Hey, baby. I’m Sasha.”

  The woman’s blue eyes crinkled and she took a bite of meat.

  “She’s deaf,” the bearded man said, “but she can read your lips. Her name is Dewbell.”

  “What pretty name. And, hey, it’s better for me you can’t hear my bad accent. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Lucky.” The man reached out his metal hand to Sasha.

  He grasped it and shook, frowning at the tight hold the cold robotic fingers had on his hand. “You sure about that?”

  Lucky laughed heartily. He gestured with his meat to the form next to him. “That’s Gentlewave.”

  “Oh. That is Islander name, yes?”

  The figure pulled down the hood. Black braids hung on either side of his dark face. He narrowed his eyes. “That a problem?”

  “No. What island you come from? I have friends on Nis.”

  The Islander frowned, his sharp teeth visible. “You have friends on Nis?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’m from Nis.”

  “Really? I know guy named Roadtraveler. Trav. You know him?”

  Gentlewave pulled a scarf from around his neck and shrugged off his cloak. “I haven’t lived on Nis in a long time. What was he known as before his naming ceremony?”

  Sasha tried to envision the files on his computer back in Priyut, piecing together Dr. Orlov’s interview notes. “Uh, Son of… Mossflower. Albino guy.”

  Recognition dawned on Gentlewave’s face. “That certainly narrows it down. Yeah, I remember an albino kid back when I lived there.”

  “Well, is small world, then.” Sasha looked around with an itch of unease. “So where is Dusty?”

  Lucky twisted toward the entrance of a store. “She’s in there with Cal, but—”

  In there with Cal. Sasha stood and walked toward the store, thinking of Dusty’s frightened face on the bridge. Maybe she was used to guys taking advantage of her and just doing what they asked. Maybe she needed his help.

  “Hey, wait. I don’t think they’re done yet—”

  He pushed open the glass door of the building, brows knit together. Faint sounds came from one side of the darkened room. Sasha’s heart quivered as he brushed past moldering scraps of clothing, metal display racks, and plastic hangers. In a corner sat a ruined couch. A man in a cowboy hat lay on top, Dusty underneath him.

  Sasha’s face twisted into a snarl. He jumped on the man, knocking off his hat and drawing his forearm across the man’s throat.

  “What the—Sasha! What are you doing?” Dusty exclaimed, pulling down her shirt.

  “Saving you!” He pulled up, jerking the man off of the couch. Both of them collapsed onto the floor. The man rolled onto Sasha and slugged him in the face. Sasha kneed him in the stomach and shoved him away, pressing the heel of his hand to his bloody mouth.

  “Stop it!” Dusty cried, jumping between them. “Sasha, get out of here!”

  The man groaned, picking up his hat and placing it back over his sandy hair. He looked at Sasha with a scowl. “What gives, man?”

  Sasha stood up and tried to talk, still holding his hand to his smarting lip. “Hey, cowboy, get lost before you regret it.” He gestured
to Dusty. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “No, Sasha. I’m doing a trade. Go away!”

  His lip throbbed and he swallowed blood, his mind grappling with her statement. “Wait. You’re not in danger? You doing trade with this guy? For what?”

  “Nevermind what. And I’m not in danger.” Dusty gave him a familiar scowl. “Just go. I’ll talk to you in a few.”

  Sasha turned back to the man, glanced at his unbuckled belt, then back at his face. “What you giving her?”

  “Twenty tins.” The man rubbed his throat and grimaced.

  “Dusty! You doing this for twenty tins? No, no.” That rotten taste returned to his mouth. He dug into his pocket with bloody fingers, pulling out a handful of coins. “Look, I got, like, thirty. You take this and come with me.”

  “Hey, you gotta wait your turn, pal—”

  “Here, Dusty. You take my money for free and leave this guy.” Sasha grabbed Dusty’s hand, trying to put the tins in her palm. She pulled away.

  “No! I don’t want your money. Get out of here.”

  His mouth fell open, stitches of pain coursing through his lip. “His money is better than mine? Why? I am not asking for anything! You going to sell yourself for only twenty tins? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Whoa, wait. Are you her Boss?” The man adjusted his hat. “Look, she said twenty, but if she’s worth more than that—”

  “Damn right she’s worth more!” Sasha’s face grew hot. “You know she is only eighteen? You can’t be doing that for twenty tins.”

  “Get out, Sasha! Just go!”

  Sasha grimaced, looking from Dusty’s angry face to the man’s. He shook his head and stomped out of the store, stuffing the tins back in his pocket.

  “Some thanks I get,” he muttered in Russian, ignoring the confused murmurs from the campfire. “Story of my life whenever I try to do a good thing. No one appreciates me.” He wiped his mouth on his shirt and returned to the mattress store, plopping onto the one nearest the shopping cart.

  He pulled open his bag and pawed through his clothes. “All these nice shirts and I’m going to ruin them all within the week. Covered in blood and cat drool.” After stuffing the dirty shirt into his pack, he pulled out one in baby pink with a high collar and jerked it on.