Chromeheart

by Alia Hess

  “There are nicer parts of Hammerlink too.” Gentlewave paused and adjusted his scarf. “But most of those areas are only frequented by rich folks. Bosses and factory owners. But it’s easy to earn a living in the city. That’s why I moved there initially. Lots of manufacturing jobs, and they don’t care if you’re an Islander. But then Lucky offered me this escort position. I like it a lot better. More variety.”

  They walked by small shops with picture windows—the glass much clearer and smoother than the buildings in the Northwest. People passed, some carrying baskets of grapes or other produce, but most were simply enjoying the town—walking dogs, drinking what was probably wine at small outside tables, laughing, and browsing the boutiques.

  “I don’t understand this fancy town in middle of wasteland. Fortland was weird, dirty kid town, and this place full of rich people,” Sasha said.

  “The East is more populated and built up than the Northwest. More industrial. Hammerlink has a lot of rich folks because they distribute merchandise to other Eastern cities, and probably to the West too, depending on how far a given caravan travels. There’re still a lot of crap places, like Starburn; I guess the well-to-do folks from Hammerlink need somewhere fancy to blow off steam. Hence this place.” Lucky rolled his eyes. “Can’t believe I’m in Violet. When I get home, I’m heading straight to the freelancers’ bar and looking for a new hired gun. I’ll resort to Cal again if I have to, but—”

  Dewbell shook her head vigorously, signing.

  “I know you don’t like him, but he’s good at what he does. And Dusty won’t be with us, so I don’t see—‘But Dusty not only.’ What does that mean? What did he say to you?” Lucky stared at Dewbell’s quick signs. He set his jaw, a vein pulsing in his temple. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “She didn’t want to worry you.” Gentlewave squeezed Dewbell’s arm. “You know how she is. He didn’t touch her, though. If he had, I would have broken that shooting hand of his.”

  It was unfortunate Sasha didn’t get to see that cowboy’s sorry carcass after Gentlewave kicked his ass the week before. But judging by the thick scabs on the Islander’s knuckles, it was a good beat-down. He was happy that Gentlewave was looking out for Dusty and Dewbell, and thankful he hadn’t been on the business-end of his fists despite his screw-ups.

  Next to them sat a small shop with pinwheels and whirligigs staked in the grass—the cool breeze kicking them into a frenzy. Hand-blown glass vessels sat on display in the window of the next shop. A man stood inside, twisting a blob of molten-orange glass on a metal rod.

  Lucky pointed across the street. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be drinking the overpriced, fancy shit these guys call booze.”

  Dewbell gripped Sasha’s shoulders as Lucky crossed the street. She didn’t need to worry. He had no intention of following Lucky into the bar.

  “Okay. I’m ready for nice restaurant.”

  Dusty smiled up at Sasha and Gentlewave beckoned. They followed him up the street, then Sasha’s heart sank. He had no money. He pulled out his tablet and wrote a message to Dewbell.

 

  She wrote back.

 

  He stuffed the tablet into his back pocket and Dewbell slipped him a handful of tins. It felt like more than a fair amount, but he wasn’t sure how much the motherboards were even worth. Once he traded them in, he could pay her back with some interest.

  Gentlewave directed them to a restaurant. Soft jazz drifted through the open glass door, and people sat at small tables just outside the entrance.

  Sasha didn’t really fit in as a Mainlander or anything else, especially not with his loud clothes and accent, but out of all the times to feel out of place, this restaurant was it. Maybe it was because it was like fancy restaurants in First World countries—places he wouldn’t be caught dead in in the past. Places where the maître d’ insisted you wear a suit jacket and tie. No one stopped his ragtag group from entering, however.

  Dewbell followed Gentlewave toward the back of the restaurant, stopping momentarily to give Sasha a wink. He smiled, then gestured for Dusty to take a seat at a table in the corner. He slid into the booth next to her.

  “This is so nice.” Dusty looked around. “I’ve never been in a place like this. Guys don’t take me to fancy restaurants.”

  “They do now.”

  The decor was soothing: blue rippled panes hung from metal rods, separating sections of the room, and spheres of blown, iridescent glass pulled double-duty as both sculptures and light fixtures.

  Dusty wore a small smile, tugging up the oversized collar of her shirt. It immediately slid back down, revealing her bare shoulder.

  Sasha wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. “So, when we get to Hammerlink, you want to go to more restaurants and stuff? We could go on lot of dates if you want.”

  “I just like spending time with you. It doesn’t really matter where it is. This is nice, though. Where we going after dinner?”

  “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Where you want to go?”

  “It looked like there was a big hotel around the corner from here. That might be romantic.” She scooted closer to him and put a hand on his leg.

  “You sure? I mean, some big fancy bed where we can break headboard sounds fun”—he grinned—“and I know I like to make lot of jokes, but I really don’t want to screw something up. Is that what you want to do?”

  Dusty gave him a peck on the cheek. “Yes, silly. That’s why I suggested it. And you’re doing just fine.”

  Sasha nodded, his heart in his throat. A waitress walked over; he forgot her name immediately and barely registered the menu placed in his hands. Once she was gone, he stared at the list of entrees, unable to make sense of any of it.

  Dusty rubbed his leg. “Are you okay? You look pale. And sweaty.”

  He set the menu down. “You are making me nervous, baby.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like you so much.”

  She chuckled. “I’m nervous too. But you know, this time with you has been really great. I don’t want to imagine right now what I’d be out doing if I hadn’t met you. You make me feel like a better person. Like I’m worth more.”

  “You are.” He smiled and kissed her. “Okay, let’s eat some fancy food, yeah?”

  They both ordered steak, extra bloody. Many of the other dishes had strange names and sounded a little too fancy.

  Dusty took a bite of her steak, squinting at the glass light fixture. “This restaurant is nice, but I feel out of place in here.”

  “I know what you mean. Never went to places like this in Russia. You know what I ate almost every day? Pizza. You like?”

  “What’s pizza?”

  Sasha raised his eyebrows. “You serious? Is like, circle of bread with cheese and red sauce, and meats and stuff. Mushrooms. Sometimes fish or olives. The greasy kind is best. It’s really bad for you, but that’s why it tastes so good. Love dumplings too.”

  “I like some of the street food they have in Hammerlink. You’ll have to try some when we’re there.”

  He took a bite of potato, trying to think of something else to say, but all the conversation topics that came to mind were ones he didn’t want to talk about. He wasn’t happy about much of his past, and didn’t really want to hear about Dusty’s, either. They were from such different worlds. He couldn’t ask her about her favorite VR game or flavor of iced coffee or what high school elective she’d liked best—and he didn’t dare ask her what she used to do for fun—not after her comment about naming feral cats in some depressing gang hideout.

  “Steak is pretty good, huh?” he said.

  “Yeah. I wonder what Gentlewave and Dewbell ordered.”

  “Maybe same thing. Other stuff on menu I couldn’t understand.”

  “Oh, thank G
od. I thought it was just me.” Dusty sat back, chewing. “I didn’t want to look unsophisticated by asking the waitress what the things were.”

  “I can’t even say, ‘unfosis—un…’ I give up.”

  She laughed loudly and people glanced in their direction. Dusty cringed. “I guess people don’t like our unsophistication.”

  “I don’t care about being fancy. I mean what is even this thing here?” Sasha poked a gourd-shaped glass object on the table and it fell over with a clatter, spilling pepper across the surface. “Oops.”

  Dusty laughed again, then clapped a hand over her mouth. The people at the table nearest to them narrowed their eyes and scowled.

  He hunched his shoulders. “Maybe we should go be un-fancy some other place. Getting uncomfortable in here.”

  “I agree. I’m going to scarf down this steak and then let’s go. Pretty sure we’re gonna have more fun in that hotel room, anyway.”

  His growing anxiety made finishing his food less than appealing and he pushed his plate away. Once their waitress came back, Sasha paid for their meal and walked to the back of the restaurant. Gentlewave sipped a glass of wine, a half-eaten plate of fish in front of him. Dewbell was eating some sort of meat in a colorful sauce, and it looked as extravagant as the names on the menu suggested.

  “Me and Dusty are going to hotel for night.” He gave them a weak smirk and thumbed behind him.

  Gentlewave set down his wine glass. “Sounds nicer than sleeping outside. Dewbell, you want to stay there too? My treat.”

  Dewbell smiled coyly and signed. Gentlewave laughed. “No, we are not on a date too. Very funny.”

  “Okay, well, see you in morning? Oh, and Gentlewave, this place is fancy for sure. Good for first date. Thanks.”

  Dusty stood near the entrance, admiring another glass sculpture. He took her outstretched hand and pulled her from the restaurant, heading to the end of the street. They rounded the corner, skirting around a little dog on a leash, and stopped in front of a stately motel. The building curved around a large courtyard of grass and purple flowers.

  “Oh, this is so pretty!” Dusty ran her fingers along the petals. “I bet we’re not supposed to walk through it, but I just want to lay in them.”

  “You lay down here, baby, and I’m going to start taking my clothes off. Don’t think town people want to see that.”

  Dusty chuckled. “Okay. Let’s go get a room then.”

  Their room had a huge bed—the biggest Sasha had ever seen. The other decor was nice, but he couldn’t care less. Dusty sat in the middle of the mattress, hands in her lap, with a small simper curling the edges of her plump lips. Sasha’s heart pounded like a freight train.

  He climbed onto the bed. “You look really good in my shirts. But… I think you going to look even better without them.” He pulled up on the bottom of the purple shirt. Dusty helped remove it, tossing it away. Her black snake tattoo meandered across her shoulder and under one bra strap. He tried to ignore the fading bruises on her neck and shoulders. With a quivering hand, he slid the bra strap down slowly and kissed her collarbone.

  Dusty ran her nails across the nape of his neck, sending goosebumps to the surface of his skin and his pulse beating harder. She leaned into him, pushing him back onto the bed, then pulled his shirt over his head, knocking black curls into his eyes.

  Candlelight played on Dusty’s soft, round face and lit up the fuzz on her head. God, she’s beautiful. He dragged in a shallow breath, feeling light-headed. I can’t pass out now. Won’t. We haven’t even started.

  He gazed into her amber eyes, then put his mouth against hers, slipping his tongue inside. Her hands slid down his sides, then came around to the front and unzipped his pants. She pulled away from the kiss, then paused.

  “Red underwear? With… what the hell are those? Lightning bolts? Really?”

  Sasha smirked and shrugged. “I am colorful guy. What can I tell you? But hey, you don’t like them? It’s fine. I can take them off.”

  Dusty grinned. “Allow me.” She pressed her lips to his neck, then to the dark hair on his chest. He swallowed, the thud of his heart a barrage in his temple and black motes crowding his vision. Dusty left a trail of kisses down his torso, stopping just above the waistband of his red briefs. Sasha’s head swam and he sucked in a breath. She slid her fingers into his underwear and a dagger of pain seized his heart. He gasped.

  She looked up. “Are you okay?”

  He dragged in a shallow breath and shook his head, grimacing. Fog coiled around his mind. The pain stabbed at him again and he clutched his chest. “Think I’m… having heart attack.”

  Dusty’s eyes widened, then her face grew dim in his fading vision. He gasped again. She screamed, running from the room. He wanted to call out to her, to beg her not to leave him, but the pain was too great and he couldn’t get anything out. Sasha sank back on the bed.

  He sat up.

  Where am I?

  The room was white, the air sterile. Sasha scratched his face, only to discover a shocking amount of beard growth. He lifted an arm: a needle was taped into his vein, connected to a tube filled with pink liquid. It snaked into a kidney-shaped decanter hanging near the bed. Beyond was a glass panel with a shimmery network of gold and silver wires encased inside. Many bundled wires with nodes at the ends draped one side. A small yellow light blinked at the bottom of the glass pane.

  What the hell? He dragged his fingers through his beard again, bewildered by the sensation. His joints creaked, muscles sore. Sasha flexed his arm, then pulled a clear sticky circle from his outer wrist. Many of them ran up and down his arms. What happened to me?

  “You’re awake!”

  Dusty leapt from a plastic chair in the corner. Dewbell, nearby, stood as well. And Dusty had hair—a little bit, at least. The short auburn strands were parted to one side, a tiny red barrette clipped into them. She wore a midriff-exposing pink top and black pants. Dewbell looked as sweet and kind as always, but her leather pants had been swapped for a turquoise dress.

  Both women hurried to the bed, putting their arms around him. Dusty planted a kiss on his mouth, while Dewbell opted for his cheek. Sasha barely registered the act. “What’s happening?” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy.

  “You don’t remember? The doctors said you had… hang on, I’ve got it here somewhere”—she dug into her pocket and pulled out a folded paper—“‘tachycardia-induced heart failure.’”

  “I still don’t understand. Dusty, how you got so much hair? And me too.” He rubbed at his beard again.

  Dusty sat on the bed. “Well, you’ve been asleep for two months.”

  Sasha reeled. “Two months? Why?”

  “That’s how long it took for your heart to heal. You could have woken up a couple of weeks after the surgery, but—”

  “What surgery? I had surgery?”

  “Yeah, on your heart. They fitted you with an implant to make sure your heart is pumping the way it’s supposed to. Some metal and plastic device in the inside.”

  Through the collar of Sasha’s smock, a long white scar ran down his chest along with more sticky circles. “Wow.”

  “It’s great though, because now you don’t have worry about your heart. You won’t pass out when walking or anything. And you’re all healed.”

  “But why I was asleep for two months if I could wake up after couple weeks?”

  Dusty and Dewbell shared a smirk. “The doctor said if you woke up after a couple of weeks, you couldn’t do anything that increases your heart rate for the two months, or the implant might not take. For some people, that might not be an issue, but we figured that you’re so excitable around the ladies that you’d ruin the implant for sure.”

  He glanced around the room. “It must be expensive for surgery and implant and sleeping in hospital. I must owe lot of money now.”

  “No. We took care of it. Those motherboards went for a lot. And…” Her smiled faded a bit. “I used all the money I had saved up too. The
money to buy orphans.”

  Sasha frowned and stroked Dusty’s cheek. “No. All your money for the kids? You do that for me?”

  “Of course!”

  “But…” He exhaled, stomach heavy. “That was most important thing for you—”

  “No. You’re the most important thing to me.”

  “That was your whole life. Saving those kids. And I know you said you were going to stop doing that so you could make yourself better, but… wow. Thank you.” He smiled weakly. “But please don’t tell me you did trades to pay for my surgery.”

  “No way. I’m not doing that anymore. Been hanging around Hammerlink mostly, and went on a couple of escort missions with Lucky’s group.” She grinned. “I’m Cal’s replacement.”

  “That’s great.” He tried to sit up, and Dusty pushed him back into the pillows.

  “You’re not going anywhere yet. The doctor said you need to stay for another week still for therapy.” She gestured to the wires hanging from the clear panel. “They had all these things hooked up to your muscles to keep you strong, but they said it’s not enough.” Dusty pushed off the bed. “I’m going to go let everyone know you’re awake. Lucky and Gentlewave should be here soon. The doctor said it could take up to three hours for you to wake up once you got that medicine stuff, so those two decided not to hang around in the room.” She disappeared through a door.

  He leaned back on the bed. Dewbell sat beside him.

  “Must have been scary when I was having heart failure, yeah? Dusty screaming and stuff.”

  Dewbell nodded, eyes tearing up. She let out a small sob.

  Sasha frowned. “Hey, why you crying? I’m okay. I didn’t die.”

  Dewbell nodded insistently. She pulled his tablet from a drawer.

  Sasha stomach dropped. He rubbed his face, wide-eyed. “Holy shit. Wow. That’s… Wow. Died…” He bit his lip as tears fell onto Dewbell’s cheeks. “Hey, baby, come here.”