Chromeheart

by Alia Hess

  He pulled her into a hug, her chest hitching against his. He closed his eyes and rubbed her back. Eventually, her shudders ceased and she sat back and sighed.

  “I’m okay. Scary then, but now I’m better than ever. I feel good.” He spread his sore arms and gave her a false grin. “See? Please don’t be sad.” His emotions were pulling him every which way, and taking a turn crying sounded pretty good, but he kept his smile, unable to bear seeing Dewbell upset.

  She wiped her face. Her dress was short-sleeved and the smattering of thin scars on her inner arms was visible. A couple of them looked recent.

  “Hey. You doing okay with… that?” Sasha pointed.

  Dewbell reached for a sweater and pulled it on, then folded her arms. She nodded, but it wasn’t very convincing.

  “You know, you can talk to me when you are feeling bad too. Not just me talking to you when I feel bad. I’m sorry I was asleep for two months, but I’m here for you now.”

  She smiled.

  “Because I tell you, thinking about you being hurt makes me want to cry too.” He pulled at the white bedspread.

 

  Dusty entered the room. “Look who I found!”

  Gentlewave and Lucky trailed in, followed by a man in a white smock.

  “Hey!” Lucky shouted. “How you feeling? You grow that beard any longer and we’re going to have to have a competition.”

  “No way.” Sasha laughed. “Looks weird on me. But I’m feeling pretty good. Heard you guys saved my life couple times. Thank you.”

  The man in the white smock—presumably a doctor—pulled a translucent black disk from his pocket and pressed it to Sasha’s chest. The doctor peered at several lights on the edge and Sasha tried to ignore the cold sensation seeping into his skin.

  “You’re looking good.” The doctor put the disk back in his pocket. “The implant seems to have taken well. You’ll need to stay here for another week or so for physical therapy. I’ll send the therapist in pretty soon.”

  He pressed a wad of gauze to Sasha’s inner arm, then pulled out the needle hooked into the IV tube.

  Sasha leaned back on the pillow as he left the room.

  Dusty said, “Your friends, Owl and Trav, have been worried sick about you.”

  “Oh yeah. Probably wondering why I didn’t find her brother yet. They call on tablet?”

  “Yeah. I figured out how to talk to them. I told them what happened. Owl’s pretty cool. I like her. And her baby is so cute. He’s got a fat little face.”

  “Forgot all about that. That’s great. I’m going to have to give them call.”

  “They said to take care of yourself first. And then when you feel better and find her brother, to call them.” Dusty looked at Gentlewave. “Trav and Gentlewave talked too.”

  The Islander smiled. “Yeah. I’m thinking about going back to Nis. It seems like a lot has changed there, and I miss living by the ocean.”

  Dewbell looked into her lap.

  Is that why Dewbell’s been hurting herself? Gentlewave is leaving?

  Sasha squeezed Dewbell’s hand. “Well, lot of stuff is different now. For me too. It’s a lot to think about.”

  Lucky nodded. “Yeah, we should probably let you rest for a while. I’m sure you’re overwhelmed. But look us up when you get out and we’ll go have lunch somewhere. Dusty knows where Dewbell and I live.”

  Lucky, Gentlewave, and Dewbell said good-bye. Sasha caught Dewbell’s wrist as she turned to go. “I mean what I said, baby. I’m here if you want to talk. Looks like I’m not going anywhere for while.”

  She smiled, nodded, then left the room.

  Dusty slid under the covers with Sasha, then pulled one of the sticky dots from his arm. “You know, I visited you a lot while you were asleep.”

  “How come? You worried?”

  “No. The doctor said you would be fine. I just missed you. And I knew you couldn’t hear me, but sometimes I’d talk to you, or hold your hand. Sometimes I’d cry.” She looked away, biting her lip. “That’s when I realized that—that I’m in love with you.”

  Sasha’s mouth parted and he furrowed his brows. “You love me?”

  “Yeah.”

  He exhaled, then smiled, heart swelling. “Wow. No girl ever said that to me before.” He took Dusty’s hand, staring into her big honey eyes. “I like you a lot. So much it give me heart failure. You are amazing.”

  Using all her orphan money to pay for my surgery, and visiting me in the hospital for months even though she knows I couldn’t register that she was even here. Sasha’s breath was shallow, his new heart thudding rapidly. “I think I love you too.”

  A huge smile lit up Dusty’s face.

  “How can I not, after everything you do? You are wonderful person. And maybe it is too soon to say it, but I don’t care. I never been guy to wait long time for anything. I love you.”

  Dusty wiggled closer and Sasha wrapped his arms around her. She nuzzled into his neck.

  “I got so much things to think about now.” He let out a shuddering breath. “But all I want to do is hold you. …Will you tell me again?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “That you love me.”

  She chuckled. “I love you, Sasha.”

  The next week of physical therapy wasn’t as intensive as they showed in the movies. This was due in large part to the wires that had been attached to his body, sending electrical impulses to his muscles so they didn’t atrophy. His joints were still stiff, but after a few days of walking through the hospital halls and manipulating objects with his hands, he was almost back to normal. Dusty visited every day, which was great, because Sasha had more nurse jokes and hospital innuendo than he knew what to do with.

  On the seventh day, he left the medical center. It sat just outside Hammerlink, overlooking brick houses in bright reds and browns, smoke stacks and large buildings with corrugated roofs peppering the spaces in-between. Large factories sat against a yellow-green hill, sending dark smoke curling into the sky. Hot air blew, tinged with an acrid, chemical smell.

  Tomorrow he would look for Owl’s brother, but right now, he didn’t feel like entering Hammerlink. Dusty’s special house wasn’t too far, and he wanted some time alone with her in a place that wasn’t a hospital.

  A bicycle with a strangely-curved seat and oversized front tire waited outside. Dusty climbed on.

  “You’re going to have to stand on the pegs. Sorry.”

  “Why don’t you let me drive it? I got good heart now. And muscles aren’t too bad.”

  She breathed a laugh. “Thanks, but you don’t even know where we’re going. Get on.”

  Sasha stood on the pegs protruding from the back tire and held onto Dusty’s shoulders. She pedaled down the road, passing rickshaws with bright canopies, groups of walking travelers, and even a couple of motorcycles.

  They veered off the road, cutting through a narrow path in a corn field. Waxy green leaves slapped at Sasha’s arms as he held tightly to Dusty. The bicycle bumped over mounds of dirt, scattering ravens into the sky.

  Eventually, the corn field fell away, replaced by a dirt road, tiny farm houses set back against the horizon. Dusty turned toward one, coasting down the path until stopping in a yard of dandelion-riddled grass. A large, gnarled tree stretched over the small house and flecks of ancient blue paint still clung to the wood paneling. Plastic sheets hung over the paneless-windows, and a knotted rope replaced the door knob in the thick front door.

  After they climbed off the bike, Dusty pushed it through the grass to the side of the house. She turned. “Well, this is it.”

  “This is your house, huh? Looks cute.”

  She shrugged. “It’s an Old World house, and when I moved in it seemed like it had been abandoned for quite some time, so there were a lot of things wrong with it. But hey, it’s free. Rent in Hammerlink is expensive. I need to get a solar panel for the roof. All I have is a couple rechargeable lanterns. But there’s a well out back. Come in.”<
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  Sasha followed Dusty into a small front room with a wood-planked floor, a thick paisley rug in the middle. A bookshelf sat against one wall, filled will all sorts of scavenged things—vases, framed paintings, potted plants, cups, a tea kettle, dishes, and hunting knives.

  Dusty walked into a kitchen. Boxes lay on an old stove, and many of the pantry doors were missing. She picked up a towel and straight razor. “Take a seat. Let’s get rid of that beard.”

  He smiled and sat down in a rickety chair. Dusty put the towel around his neck, then prepared a soapy lather, brushing it onto Sasha’s face. She straddled his legs, sitting in his lap.

  “Oh, hey. You using me for chair, baby?”

  “That’s right.” She tilted his head to one side, drawing the razor down his cheek.

  “Mm, I like this.” As she wiped the blade on the towel, he said, “How you know how to do this? I don’t even know how to shave with this kind of razor.”

  Dusty’s lip twitched and she stroked the razor down his beard again. “I used to do this every day. For my Boss.”

  Sasha frowned. “I don’t want you to do stuff that remind you of that. Give me razor. I’ll do it.”

  “You just said you don’t know how. You’ll cut yourself. Besides, this is sexy, don’t you think? Me sitting in your lap, shaving your face?” She smiled and wiped the razor on the towel again.

  Not anymore. Not now that I know her Boss probably thought it was sexy too. Sasha shut his eyes, feeling dirty. He pushed down his unease as Dusty shaved off his beard, her soft, petite hands on his face.

  She smiled. “All done.” She wiped his face with a damp cloth, then caressed his smooth cheek. “You look much better. Just need a haircut now.”

  “You take such good care of me. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She put her hands to his head and kissed him deeply. He stood, hauling her up into his arms. She let out a surprised laugh as Sasha carried her through the room and down the hall.

  “So you got bed in this place, or what?”

  Dusty laughed. “Yes, in the room at the end.”

  “You ready for me to rock your world, baby?”

  “I’m ready. Your new heart must be working great.”

  He grunted. “Yep. All of me working great. You find out soon.” He entered the bedroom and deposited Dusty onto a collapsed bed with a ragged patchwork quilt. Filtered sunlight fell onto her grinning face.

  Sasha climbed onto the bed next to her, his pulse a steady rhythm. He kissed her and she pulled at the button on his pants. “Ready for some kisses somewhere else?”

  She loved him. This gorgeous, ornery girl with a big heart. Loved him. Chose him over John. Chose him over the only way of life she’d ever known, and asked him for help to change—and he loved her back.

  He knit his brows and pushed her hand away. “Not yet. I like that, for sure, but I bet you did that lot for trade, yeah? Lot of guys tell you to do it?”

  Dusty’s face fell into a well-trained scowl. “Why are you bringing that up? Now of all times?”

  “I bet those guys never cared about how you feel. In your heart. In your body. Nobody care about you.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Of course they didn’t care about me! They were trades. And I don’t want to think about trades right now. Or what guys asked me to do. Why are you talking about this?”

  Sasha’s face turned resolute. He took her hands. “Because I care about you. About how you feel. And I don’t want this to feel like you are doing trade with me. You always having to think about stuff you did for guys. Your Boss. Those men you traded with. And you always taking care of me. I want to take care of you. Okay?” He pulled open the snap on Dusty’s pants with a trembling hand, then opened the zipper.

  Her eyes glistened, but a small smile hung on her lips. She pressed her mouth to his as he pulled down her pants and slid off her panties, running his fingers along the soft, bare skin of her hips.

  Sasha kissed her neck gently and whispered. “Don’t want you to do anything right now. I want to make you feel good.” He gave her an impish smile. “Hope you don’t have plans today.”

  A small laugh escaped her. “Pervert.”

  “You love it.”

  “I do.”

  12 ~ Corvin ~

  It took several days for Sasha to muster the motivation to leave Dusty’s bed and travel to Hammerlink. And she never did give him that haircut. Sasha pedaled the bike this time, Dusty standing on the pegs with her arms wrapped tightly around his chest.

  Lucky was right—the city really did smell like burning plastic. The crowded and dirty streets were surprisingly narrow. He struggled to weave around pedestrians, rickshaws, and produce carts.

  The bike bumped over a rough patch of cobblestones and Dusty squeezed him tighter—he didn’t mind; he couldn’t get enough of her touch.

  “Where are we supposed to find this guy?” Dusty had to shout over the crowd.

  “Was hoping maybe you knew. He is supposed to be important guy here. Some clothes maker.”

  “What’s his name again?”

  “Corvin. Corvin Melonvine.”

  “Hey, stop up here a second.” She pointed to a busy intersection.

  Sasha slowed the bicycle at the corner as other cyclists zoomed past. A man walked by with a cage strapped to his back—an assortment of things: blankets, wooden spoons, shoes, and canned goods, crammed inside. Dusty climbed off the bike, then turned her back to him and pulled the tag out of the inside of her bright red top. He tilted his head to read the label: Melonvine.

  “That guy?”

  His gaze fell down the back of Dusty’s shirt and he regretted coming into the city today. “Sounds right. Same name.”

  “Well, I got this shirt from a boutique on Star Street. We could ask the people working there. Maybe they know where to find him.” She climbed back onto the bike.

  “So Owl’s brother made that shirt, huh?” Sasha pedaled the bike through the intersection, dodging well-dressed people carrying bags, and tired workers in soiled coveralls. The city air churned his stomach. He was used to smog in Russia, but this was entirely different. The chemical smell grew stronger as Dusty directed him down streets. They passed a large doctor’s office, a gambling den with a beckoning, pink neon sign, and a bakery. Burning plastic and fresh baked bread was not a good combination.

  Eventually, they arrived at a small shop simply labeled: Melonvine. The word graced the sign in cutesy green cursive with a small, curly tendril sprouting from the end of the “e.”

  They climbed off the bike and Dusty took the handlebars, pushing it into the boutique. Colorful outfits hung on wooden mannequins in the front window, and small racks of clothing occupied the room. A teenage girl stood behind the front counter.

  “Hello! Welcome to Melonvine. Is there something I can help you find?”

  “Yeah.” Sasha walked up to the counter. “Corvin Melonvine. You know where he is?”

  The girl raised her eyebrows. “Mr. Melonvine? He was in here a half hour ago. He always stops in this shop first, then checks on the other two.” She glanced at a wall clock in a burnished brass casing. “He’s probably in the third store now on Industry. Doesn’t stay very long. Just shows up to look around and tells us what things to put on the mannequins.”

  “Thanks.” Sasha left the store with Dusty. “You know where that street is?”

  “Industry? Yeah. Get on.” Dusty hopped on the bike, and Sasha took the pegs.

  She weaved effortlessly through the crowds on Star Street, veering down a garbage-littered alley and cutting across an intersection. Eventually turning onto Industry Way, Dusty skidded the bike to a halt in front of another boutique. As they dismounted, a tall, slender man with dark brown, neatly-trimmed hair left the shop. He wore a maroon button-up shirt with ruffled edges, and a weirdly-shaped yellow bow tie. He glanced at Sasha and stopped.

  “My man. That is the most outrageous shade of orange I have ever seen.” He gestured
to Sasha’s shoes, grinning. “I love it. Where’d you get those?”

  “Er, Russia.”

  “Russia…” The man snapped his fingers. “Oh! I know. You’re one of those scientists from the facility outside the city, right?”

  “Well, yes. But from Northwest Coast facility. Not here.”

  “I love what you are wearing.”

  Today, Sasha wore a pink polo shirt and plaid pants. “Really?”

  “Yes!” He leaned toward Sasha as though ready to share a secret. “You know, I come up with all these amazing colors: eggplant, saffron, pumpkin-orange. And you know what the people in this city want to buy? Brown. White. Black. They are so dull and it’s so frustrating!” The man balled his hands into fists and groaned out the last words, but there was a smile on his face. “Anyway, don’t let me keep you—”

  “You are Corvin, yes?”

  He paused. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “My name is Sasha. I am friends with your sister, Owl.”

  Corvin stared, lips pursed. “You know Owl? How is she? She hasn’t sent a letter in a while.”

  “I think she is doing good. Had her baby about three months ago. I came here to find you so you could talk to her.” Sasha pulled out his tablet. “See, she have drone in her house and I can turn it on with tablet. Then, she can see you with drone and you can see her with tablet and talk. She want to see you. Misses you.”

  Corvin raised his dark eyebrows. He looked at the tablet, then clapped his hands together and grinned. “Well, that’s fantastic! I would love to video-talk with her. That’s what you call it, right? You came all the way here so she could see me?”

  “Well, was thinking of coming this way anyway, but yes. Came to city to find you.”

  Corvin shook his head and slapped Sasha on the back. “Unbelievable. You know, I haven’t seen her since I was sixteen? I haven’t been the greatest big brother. I sent her a camera, and she sends me a lot of pictures. I was going to do the same for her, but I’m not very good at taking them. I don’t really know anything about technology. I’ve got one of those tablets. Don’t know how to use it.” He wagged his finger. “And our mom. Man, all she does is badger me about Owl moving here. But I think she’s better off on Nis, you know? Beautiful island. Ocean. Fresh air. Owl doesn’t want to move here. Especially not with her baby. The city is polluted and dirty and I don’t even want to think about her having to work at some cafe or factory job. But talking with her would be absolutely fantastic.” He leaned in. “Hey, her husband, Trav. Is he as scary as he looks in pictures?”