Chromeheart

by Alia Hess

  “That would almost be like seeing him in person. I haven’t seen him in fifteen years.” Her brows pushed together and she bit her lip. “His name is Corvin. He’s a clothing designer and lives in a very large house. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

  “I will find him.”

  “Thank you, Sasha. You’re a good friend and I’m so sorry about what happened. I just can’t believe it.”

  “Yeah. I been wanting for weeks to talk to you, but it was hard thing to say.”

  “I understand. I’m going to go now.” Owl frowned at Trav. “I want some time to think about this.”

  “Okay. Take care, you two.”

  Owl waved and Trav said goodbye. Sasha turned off the drone and put his tablet away.

  Dusty strolled over as he stood from the curb. She frowned and cocked her head. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  “Well, your eyeblack”—she wiped his cheek, showing him her black finger—“says different.”

  Sasha pursed his lips and looked away. ‘I don’t really want to—”

  “You don’t need to tell me why. Stay here.” Dusty jogged to the shopping cart and came back with her tin of greasy pigment. “Don’t worry. You’ll look like a badass in a moment and no one will know.”

  She opened the container and smeared the paste onto his upper lids, then rimmed the bottom ones as well. Sasha opened his eyes. Dusty pulled a rag from her pocket and wiped his cheeks.

  He gave her a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  “I know what it’s like to need to act tough when you really don’t feel it.” Dusty beamed warmly, sunlight playing on her long maple lashes. She reached up and rubbed at his cheek again, but then let her hand linger there as she stared at him.

  Am I punishing myself unnecessarily? Even if I am, this girl is still way above my level.

  “Dusty… Listen, I like you, but I’ve always been big screw-up, and I’m pretty sure you deserve lot better than me.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t you think I should determine that for myself?”

  “Yes, but I don’t really want to say stuff that—”

  “Everyone makes mistakes, and I’d rather not dredge up my whole past with you right now either. We only just met. Why can’t I just take you at face value and come to a decision on my own? Or do you think I’m not capable of doing that?”

  “No, of course you can. You are smart girl.”

  “Then stop trying to push me away, Aleksandr.”

  God, she sees right through me.

  “Hey, are you guys ready or what?” Cal shouted.

  Sasha broke his gaze with Dusty and started walking. She kept pace with him as they reached the shopping cart. He pushed it, glancing up through the huge oak trees. Several metal barbeque grills stood crookedly in the overgrown grass, and plumbing pipes jutted up like rusty spines from a concrete foundation.

  She touched his hand, a slight smile on her lips. “So you like me, do you?”

  “Course, I do. You are amazing girl—woman. You like me too, right? Admit it.”

  “And if I do? What are you going to do about it?”

  “I could tell you, but it would make everyone blush in five mile radius.” Sasha grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Wrong. You paid me not to sleep with any men for a week. Including you.”

  His mouth fell open. “Wait. I change my mind on deal.”

  “No way. I don’t back out of a deal. Ever.”

  Was she joking? “What if I kiss you right now?”

  “Then—”

  A burst of gunfire caused Sasha to jerk backward in alarm, clutching Dusty protectively. Ahead, the party of four had guns drawn. Cal squeezed his pistol, shooting at something in the high bushes of the rest area.

  A strange trill reverberated off the trees, followed by a coughing honk. The bushes parted and a huge black bird emerged, striding on long legs toward the group. Its protracted neck ended in a narrow head, red eyes the size of small dinner plates. A wrinkled pink waddle dangled under its large bladed beak.

  Sasha squeezed Dusty’s arms. “What the hell is that?”

  Dusty took a step back, digging her fingers into his shirt. “Vulturius.”

  “Irina! Defense!”

  The camouflaged drone appeared beside Sasha and gun barrels ejected from the bottom. The fire command was on his lips, but the bird was right up on the party members, swinging its head and lunging. If the drone shot now, it risked hitting someone.

  Lucky fired at the black bird as a second gray one appeared. Cal and Gentlewave squeezed their pistols. Dewbell trained her gun on the black one, but didn’t fire. The gray vulturius swiped at Cal with its serrated beak. He jumped back and fired, hitting the creature in the chest. It recoiled, stumbling, as blood streamed from its powdery gray feathers.

  The black vulturius let out a honk and pecked at Lucky. He blocked the blow with his metal arm, trying to maintain his balance as the beak glanced off the prosthetic. Lucky fired point blank into the bird’s neck. It stumbled forward and he shot again.

  Through the bushes to the left, another vulturius emerged—this one mottled black and brown. It honked loudly, sprinting toward Sasha and Dusty. Sasha’s eyes grew wide.

  “Irina! Shoot target! Bird at nine o’clock!”

  The drone whirled and expelled two bullets before making a grinding noise. A small, rhythmic beep came from the machine, and the guns retracted into its belly. Out of ammo. The vulturius was almost upon them and neither bullet had struck it.

  Pulse pounding in his temple, Sasha turned and shoved Dusty onto the ground. He gripped the handle of the shopping cart with sweaty hands and flipped it upside down on top of her, caging her in—then ran. A trill sounded behind him, along with the slap of huge feet on pavement. Dusty was screaming his name.

  I can’t outrun this thing. I can’t run, period. His head swam as he leaped at a nearby tree, scrambling up the rough trunk. Something hit the bark below his leg with a hard thud—he didn’t pause to look. Sasha clambered up the branches, mind stuffed with cotton and vision almost gone. Slapping himself in the face did little to keep the darkness at bay.

  Gunfire barked below. Sasha squeezed himself into the crook of two thick branches, hoping he wouldn’t fall out after losing consciousness. He clutched the branch as the world faded.

  Something cool and damp touched Sasha’s forehead. He opened his eyes, peering into Dewbell’s concerned face. His gaze went to Dusty, who held a wet cloth to his head, wearing her signature half-smile.

  “I must be dead, because you two got to be angels.”

  Dusty laughed. “He’s fine.”

  Sasha sat up. He was underneath a tree, sitting in the grass. Lucky stood above him, cigarette protruding through his red beard.

  “How did I get back down here?”

  Dusty dabbed at Sasha’s forehead. “I pushed you out of the tree and Dewbell and Lucky caught you from below.”

  “Wow, damn. Those birds dead?”

  “Yup.” Lucky took a drag. “We’ll be eating good today. Gentlewave already has one on the grill.”

  “Won’t more come back?” Sasha eyed the tall grass as Dusty brushed a lock of wet hair from his eyes.

  “I don’t think there are any more. Cal and Gentlewave scouted through the bushes a bit. It was just the three. Evil things. Mean as fuck. Never know where they’re hiding out.” Lucky raised his metal arm and pointed at a ding in one of the rods. “Look at that.”

  Sasha shook his head. “My stupid drone ran out of ammo.”

  “We can get more. But probably not until we get to a city. Caravans don’t seem to carry much. I always have to stock up before we go anywhere. You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. This happens sometimes. Maybe someday give me heart attack, but today I’m okay.”

  Dewbell smiled and patted his shoulder, then stood, following Lucky to the barbeque grills. The smell of cooking meat wafted through the cool air�
�vulturius smelled much better than roasted dog.

  Dusty studied his face with something like awe. “You saved my life.”

  Sasha shrugged. “Well, what am I going to do? Let big ugly bird eat you?”

  She stroked the side of his face and leaned in, her big amber eyes locked onto him. Her soft, full lips grazed his as she said, “This is me taking you at face value.”

  Sasha’s breath quickened. He put a hand to the back of her shorn head and kissed her. She slid her tongue over his and wrapped her arms around him. The day before, he was sitting under a different tree, but doing this same thing—but this time it was… different. Kissing her yesterday was merely lust. Today it was because he liked her, admired her. When was the last time he’d actually dated a woman, and not just bedded one because it was fun? And how long had it been since a woman wanted to be with him for a reason other than sex, booze, or boredom? If he planned to be worthy of this woman, he had to try harder than he had in the past.

  He pulled away. “Dusty, do you like me?”

  “Well, duh.”

  “I mean my personality. Not just as cute guy to sleep with. Do you like to be around me?”

  She grinned and nodded. “Yeah. I like your personality. You’re funny and sweet. When you’re not being an ass.”

  “I like your personality too. And I have strange idea. Let’s keep our deal for week. No sex.”

  Dusty stared, eyebrows raised. “Are you sick?”

  “I’m serious. No joke. Let’s wait. I like you, and I want to get to know you better. Want to… treat you like lady and not just notch on bedpost. I don’t want to be just ‘trade.’ You are amazing girl; you deserve better.”

  A huge smile spread across Dusty’s face. “That sounds really nice, actually. And a lot different than what I’m used to. No one ever cares about me for my personality.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay. That’s a good deal.” Dusty stood. “But that means you can’t sleep with Dewbell again.”

  Sasha cringed. “Promise.” He thudded his chest with his fist and stood, heading toward the grills with Dusty following. The dead vulturi lay in the grass, pools of dark blood seeping into the soil. The gray one was carved open, plucked feathers blowing across the rest area. Gentlewave stood at the crooked grills, hood pulled loosely over his head and his scarf fluttering in the breeze. Hunks of meat sizzled on the metal bars.

  Sasha took his tablet from his pocket and pulled out the stylus. Dewbell might not even want to write anything down. She might just want to slap him. He leaned toward Dusty. “I got to go break bad news to Dewbell, okay? Don’t get jealous when I talk to her.”

  “You do what you gotta do.”

  Dewbell sat at a picnic table, hands in her lap. She smiled sweetly when he approached, and sour guilt dropped into his stomach. “Hey, can I talk to you in private for moment?”

  She nodded and stood, following Sasha to a huge oak tree. He chewed his lip. “Listen, um, you are very nice woman. I had great time with you last night. But… I want to try to have relationship with Dusty. Treat her like respectable lady. I can’t be with both of you, as much fun as that sounds. So, I can’t sleep with you again, okay?”

  Dewbell knit her blonde brows together, but nodded. Sasha held the tablet out. “You want tablet to call me jerk? Or just hit me? I will understand.”

  She took the stylus.

  Sasha sighed with relief. Dewbell wrote a new message.

  “Of course, baby. You want to talk, look at pictures… I can keep you company, but not like that.”

 

  Sasha frowned and glanced at the cowboy. He was talking to Lucky, but his eyes were on Dusty.

  “Thanks.” Sasha took the tablet and squeezed Dewbell’s shoulder. He walked back to the grass, sitting next to Dusty with his knees pulled up.

  “How’d she take it?”

  “She’s fine. Not upset.” He scooted closer to her, slipping an arm around her back. “Why that cowboy giving you the eyeball?”

  Dusty pulled up a long blade of grass and shrugged. “He wanted to trade again earlier. Tried offering me ten tins and a crappy hunting knife.”

  Sasha’s nostrils flared and he narrowed his gaze at Cal. He leaned closer to Dusty. “Hey, give me kiss, yeah? Let’s make that guy jealous.”

  She smiled and planted a kiss on Sasha. He smirked and looked at Cal again. The cowboy raised an eyebrow and strolled over.

  “What is this? Dewbell last night and now you’re with her?”

  “How you know I was with Dewbell?”

  “Heard you last night. Everyone did.” Cal stuffed his hands in his pockets as Sasha’s face grew hot. “You just go and dump that nice gal for this whore, huh? Or are you with both of them at the same time?”

  “What I do is none of your business. Dewbell is not upset.” Sasha stood up. “And how dare you call Dusty ‘whore!’”

  “I call it like I see it.” He grinned. “So, Dewbell yesterday. Dusty today. Who’s next? Gentlewave? He’s gay, you know.”

  Gentlewave looked up from the grill, scowling. Cal tilted his hat as Sasha’s face grew tighter, then said to Dusty, “How much money are you getting to pretend that you want to be with this guy? Must be a lot. Look at him—scrawny little weakling with a bad heart. Dorky face. That obnoxious accent. Gives me a headache just listenin’ to him talk. And trying to sleep with everyone. It’s pathetic. He’s more of a whore than you are.”

  Sasha slugged Cal in the face. Cal staggered back, holding his nose. Gentlewave chuckled and Lucky ran between them, arms out.

  “That’s enough, you two. Keep the peace or one of you is leaving. And it’s probably going to be you, Cal. All you do is cost me money. Askin’ me for a loan and blowing most of it on this”—Lucky looked at Dusty—“this little lady’s services. Sasha is going to make us money. Tell us what parts to take from those computers.”

  Lucky turned to Sasha, lip curled. “But I got something to say to you, too. What you do with Dusty is between you and her, because I don’t know neither of ya, but Dewbell is my sister-in-law. Now I know you was with her last night and that’s okay if it made her happy, but how you have the gall to—”

  Dewbell pushed between them with a scowl, signing.

  Lucky sighed. “I’m sorry, honey. You’re right. We shouldn’t be talking about your private—Yes, I know you’re an adult, but—” He hunched his shoulders as Dewbell signed to him. “Okay. Okay. As long as you’re not upset about it.”

  Dewbell glared at Lucky, then turned her gaze to Cal, who was rubbing his nose. She signed angrily.

  Lucky said, “She says you need to keep your mouth shut and mind your own business. And leave Dusty alone because Sasha will treat her better than you.”

  Sasha stood tall and put his hands on his hips, grinning. Cal’s expression grew darker. Dewbell signed again.

  Lucky raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “You don’t want to know what she said that time, Cal.”

  Cal grumbled and folded his arms, walking away. Lucky followed him. Dewbell made a writing gesture to Sasha, and he pulled out his tablet.

  She wrote and held up the screen to him and Dusty.

  “Me either.” Dusty smiled. “You seem like about the only sensible one around here.”

  “Ladies, I’m so happy you want to get along. I told you there was enough Sasha to go around.”

  “Don’t push it, Aleksandr.”

  8 ~ Parts ~

  The next several days of traveling toward Lucky’s scavving spot turned out to be much more awkward than Sasha anticipated. Sitting in a secluded area with Dusty led to holding hands. Holding hands led to kissing. Kissing led to the urge to do other things. However, he was determined to treat her like a lady, and not that word tha
t everyone liked to call her. She seemed quite happy with their arrangement, and her familiar scowl didn’t appear as often.

  Cal tried talking to Dusty at least a couple of times a day, and Sasha’s presence didn’t deter him. Hard glares from Dewbell, however, seemed to get the message across to leave her alone.

  On the fourth evening since the vulturi attack, the group sat in a park at the center of a mostly abandoned town. Decaying houses and stores spread out from the grassy area like an infection, wooden framing and crumbling brick façades not quite ready to give up the ghost.

  They had exchanged pleasantries with a group of friendly denizens holed up in a large schoolhouse and Cal and Lucky had left to go exploring with them.

  Dusty sat in the brittle rubber seat of a playground swing, clutching the rusty link chain as Sasha pushed her. She swung forward. When the swing came back, Sasha caught the chain and pulled her close, whispering. “How does it feel, baby? You want it harder? Faster? Or you want me to slow down?”

  “Shut up, pervert.” Dusty laughed. “Just push.”

  Sasha grinned and obliged. Nearby, Gentlewave and Dewbell sat on a bench, having a conversation in sign language.

  “I have question—why is the East called that? It is in middle of America, not east.”

  Dusty pumped her legs, swinging higher. “Because past that is Ruin. It’s like, no man’s land. Lots of crowded city ruins, overgrown forests. I think there’re probably people who live there, but it’s not considered a civilized place to live.”

  “That is funny joke—civilized places to live in America.” He shook his head and pushed Dusty again. “I know lot about Northwest Coast, and seen pictures of East, The South too, but didn’t know about Ruin. What is high up north? You know?”

  “Not really. It’s colder up there, but I don’t know who lives there.”

  “Maralti.” Gentlewave looked at them. “They’re a tribal people. Look similar to Islanders, but with lighter skin and dark red hair. I think we’re probably related somehow.”