by Alia Hess
Corvin laughed.
Audio File 40|December 20,2172|Length: 00:37
I think it was bad idea to ask Dusty to marry me so soon. All Corvin want to do now is talk about wedding decorations. [laughter] He is strange man.
Things with Dusty is great. She seems more happy now. I think for long time she only see herself as slave kid or… the “p” word. Now that I want to marry her, she say it makes her feel like she is worth more than that. I been trying to tell her that since day we met. Getting married is not going to change all bad stuff that happen to her, but I am hoping if I can be good husband for her, it will help her feel better. Never thought this would be something I want to be for somebody. But Dusty is my everything.
For as much as Dusty liked to tease him about his big pink coat, she certainly wasn’t complaining about getting to wear it now. Sasha wanted to give her a hard time, but rainwater soaked his sweater and he shivered in the freezing wind. His group strode quickly down the road, looking for somewhere to huddle until the storm passed.
Sasha shielded his eyes from the wind, scanning ahead. The gray road, almost indistinguishable from the sky, held nothing but a few scraggly trees pushing through the asphalt—and something white. Sasha squinted as a gust hurled fat raindrops into his face. It looked like a truck—a Priyut truck.
He picked up the pace and Dusty hurried to catch up. They passed Gentlewave, and Dusty shouted. “Why are you running?”
Sasha pointed at the nearing truck. It straddled the shoulder of the road, doors open. He slowed.
What the hell? What is Truck Two doing out here? And who was driving?
He poked his head in the driver’s side door. The keys lay on the floorboard, and a bag of something—peanuts maybe—littered the passenger’s seat. Sasha frowned and picked up the keys. He slid into the seat, a gust of wind rocking the little truck, and turned over the ignition. It started right up, confusing him further.
He wiped water from his face, tension easing from his shoulders now that he was out of the freezing rain. Not only could they squeeze in here for shelter from the storm, they could drive to Burr. Drive to the coast even, as long as there weren’t too many ruins in the way, but what about the original driver? It wasn’t likely they’d just stopped to take a leak—not with the doors standing open and the keys on the floor.
Sasha beckoned urgently to Dusty and she climbed into the passenger’s seat. Gentlewave approached the open door, his scarf pulled high over his face.
“What are you doing?”
“Driving us to coast. Get in!”
“But where did this truck come from? Won’t someone miss it?”
“It’s from my facility. Don’t know what happen to driver, but let’s get out of this damn storm.”
Gentlewave frowned, squinting in the wind.
“Come on! Don’t stand out in this rain. Let’s get out of here.”
Gentlewave climbed into the back. Corvin glanced into the narrow seat, his soggy hair plastered to his forehead, then turned to Dewbell and grinned. “I think we’re going to have to get quite friendly back here to fit. You might need to sit in my lap, dear.”
Dewbell smiled coyly and signed. Gentlewave huffed. “No way. Corvin’s not my type.”
Sasha chuckled.
An odd look crossed Corvin’s face, his brows bunched and rainwater rolling down his chin. “Dewbell… are you implying something about me?”
Dewbell frowned and shook her head.
“She’s just teasing.” Gentlewave wiped water from his face with his scarf. “And I think it was more directed at me than you.”
Corvin’s mouth pulled tight, his jaw clenched. “Well, I don’t think that’s very funny.”
Sasha turned around. Corvin’s genuine expression of offense was somehow even worse than his creepy, fake smiles.
Gentlewave sighed. “Corvin, no one is questioning your sexuality. Get into the truck. Don’t let Dewbell stand out there in the storm.”
Corvin stared at Dewbell, mouth twitching. Dewbell blinked rain from her eyes, head cocked to one side.
Dusty turned. “Um, I’m pretty small. Corvin, I can squeeze into the back if you want to sit up—”
“No.” He slid into the back and pulled at Dewbell’s coat sleeve. “I’ll be perfectly happy with this gorgeous woman in my lap. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Sasha shared a glance with Dusty and shrugged. Dewbell slid onto Corvin’s lap hesitantly and shut the door. Corvin pressed his brooding face to her hair and wrapped his arms around her. She fished in her pocket for a scrap of paper and wrote him a note.
Sasha cranked up the heat and pulled onto the road. He frowned, scanning the horizon. Would it be pointless to drive around a bit and search for the driver? What if it was one of his friends?
Who am I kidding? I didn’t have any friends there. The nicest person to me was Irina, and she slapped me last time I saw her.
“Do you think highwaymen took the driver?” Dusty gripped a roof handle, swaying with the truck’s motion.
Corvin’s eyes grew wide.
“Maybe somebody made the driver get out, but then didn’t know how to operate it,” Gentlewave said.
“Yeah, maybe.” Sasha’s gaze narrowed as the windshield wipers swung back and forth, throwing water across the pane. “I am looking, but don’t know if we going to find somebody. And don’t want to stay around for bad guys to come back.” He pushed harder on the gas.
Corvin nodded. “I agree with that. Get us out of here, Sasha.”
Finally an escorting task I’m good at.
Dusty looked around the cab, then tilted her face toward the hot air blasting from the heater vent. “I can’t believe you can just drive us to the coast. How long will that take?”
“Um, from here… like nine or ten hours, probably. Depends on road quality too.”
Dusty’s mouth fell open. “Are you messing with me?”
“No, baby. And I am fast driver, so maybe less time.” He grinned. “Nobody going to give me citation out here.”
Gentlewave glanced at Corvin. “Is this going to alter our payment arrangement since I was charging by days escorted?”
Corvin dragged his fingers through Dewbell’s hair, detangling the wet locks. Dewbell frowned, holding a soggy note before her. He nodded and forced a smile. “Yes. I think I may have to pay you guys more. No more walking, shelter from the storm, and it’s nice and warm in here. I’m not going to complain about skipping a month of traveling.”
Sasha weaved the truck around a tree growing through the blacktop. “I really want to stop in Burr, though. Maybe we can stay there tonight. They got nice inn. Get to coast tomorrow.” And I can see Irina and show her I’m not the asshole I used to be.
Sasha pawed through the side compartment as he whizzed down the road, pulling out chargers, paper maps, and music chips. He grimaced at a chip—some boy band, but he didn’t remember the name—and flicked it back into the drawer. “Whoever the hell was driving this got really bad taste.”
“Says the guy who wears cartoon underwear.” Dusty smirked.
“It turns you on and you know it, baby. Besides, Corvin knows I got good taste. Right?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, Sasha. I dig your style more than anyone else’s. …Well, except my own, of course.”
Dewbell tapped Sasha’s shoulder and made a writing gesture. He handed her his tablet. After she wrote something, he held out his hand, but she tilted the screen to Corvin.
Corvin’s lips pursed and he shook his head, then wrote something back.
“So what’s in Burr?” Dusty shrugged off Sasha’s pink coat and leaned her chest toward the heater. Rainwater rolled down her collarbone and into her cleavage.
Sasha rubbed his face and pulled his gaze back to the road. “Eh, Russian girl live there. I used to work with her at facility. We were first ones to come to America after doctors.”
“So, a friend?”
“Well, she kind of hates my guts, but sometimes is al
so nice to me. Her name is Irina.”
Dusty raised her eyebrows. “Like your drone?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Should I be worried if you go to visit her?”
He laughed. “Yeah, right. Irina not going to sleep with me again.”
“Again?”
“Was long time ago.”
“Are you saying you wish she would sleep with you again?”
“Hell no. I got you, baby. Why would I want her?”
Dusty smiled and opened the glove compartment; she rifled through the contents, pulling out a porn magazine and several comic books.
Sasha brightened. “Oh, hey, I forgot I left some of my stuff in here. Most was in Truck One.”
She laughed. “These are yours? Of course they are. What am I thinking?”
“You sure you want to marry me? I’m never going to change.”
“I never said I wanted you to.”
Surrealness struck Sasha as he walked down the main street of Burr, passing little brick houses and overgrown alleyways. He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t shirking surveillance duty, and he wasn’t formulating pick-up lines. Corvin strode beside him, hands in his pockets.
“Thanks for coming with me. I think Dusty feel better that I’m not going to see Irina alone—even though I’m not interested in her anymore, anyway. Now we just got to find out where she live.”
Corvin looked down the hard-packed dirt street. “This is a small town. I think a redhead with a thick accent is probably pretty memorable.”
Sasha kicked a pebble and frowned. “Corvin, we are friends, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Then, can I ask you little bit personal question? Don’t want you to get mad…”
Corvin gave him a sidelong glance, eyebrow arched. “Go on.”
“You seemed pretty upset in car today, after Dewbell make that joke about you and Gentlewave. And I don’t want to ask you about your sexual preferences—”
“Good.”
“But, are you happy with her? She make you happy?”
A grin—a genuine one—spread across Corvin’s face. “Oh, yes! Dewbell is a vision. I like her very much. I… think I might even love her.” He elbowed Sasha. “Don’t tell her that.”
Sasha let out a small laugh. “Wow. That’s great. At first, I did not like idea of you and her together, but I am happy for you two. You have been great guy to her.”
“Thanks, Sasha. I appreciate you saying so.”
People walked in the street carrying bags and baskets, early evening sun glancing off tin roofs and throwing long shadows across the ground. A short man marched ahead, hunched over from the weight of his grossly overstuffed backpack. As he sidestepped a rock, a spoon fell from his pack, clanking on the road. Several more items—a watch, a flashlight, and a teddy bear—fell out too.
“Hey.” Sasha picked up the teddy bear, and the man turned. “Looks like you got hole in your bag. Got stuff falling out.”
“Oh. Oh. That’s not good.” The man scratched his scruffy, dirt-smeared face and pulled off the pack, easing it onto the ground. A large pale scar ran across one side of his head, making a swath through his messy brown hair. “I—I think I put too much stuff inside this time. Bobby would be so mad if—if I lost his teddy bear! He has a big collection.”
Sasha gathered the items from the ground. “What you do with all this junk?”
“Junk? No way. This—this stuff is treasure! I love all kinds of, of stuff. You should see my house! I have so many things in my house.”
He inspected the rip in the bottom of his pack, then produced a roll of duct tape and slapped a large strip over the hole. He laughed. “I think that I—I need a new bag.” After stuffing the dropped items back into his pack, he held out a hand. “I’m Gale.”
Sasha shook his hand. “Hey. I’m Sasha. This is Corvin. Gale, you live here, yeah? You know where lives girl named Irina? She got red hair and lot of freckles. Really pretty. Same accent as me.”
Gale nodded vigorously, hefting his pack. “Yes. Yes. She’s nice. I like her. One time, she gave me a ballpoint pen, and, and a necklace. For free.”
Sasha chuckled. “Can you tell me where she live?”
“Oh. Yes. She lives in the—in the cooperative down the road from my place. I can show you.”
Corvin eyed Gale’s pack. “Do you have buttons in there? Or beads?”
Gale grinned. “Yes! Lots. And more at my—my house. What you guys got to trade?”
“I have a lot of tins,” Corvin replied.
“Money is nice, but I like stuff. You got stuff to trade?”
Corvin shook his head.
“I got comic books in my truck. You like stuff like that?” Sasha asked.
Gale’s dark eyes widened. “Yes! I’d trade a lot of buttons and beads for one of those!”
“Okay. I get for you.”
“I’ll—I’ll just wait here then. I’ll get out my buttons.” Gale dropped his pack and pulled out objects, setting them on the ground.
Corvin glanced at Sasha. “You don’t have to trade your books just to indulge me.”
Sasha scoffed. “Come on, Corvin. You give offer to make Dusty’s dress and designed my boots and you think I won’t give you comic book for trade? It’s not problem.”
Sasha jogged through town, relishing that he could do so without passing out. He slipped through the trees and unlocked the truck, opening the glove compartment and retrieving the contents. He rolled up the two comic books and stuffed them into his back pocket, then paused, staring at the porno mag.
“Nah.” Sasha had the feeling that Gale guy would be more excited about the comic books. He put the magazine back and locked the truck.
When he returned to town, Corvin squatted by the road, holding glass beads up to the evening light as Gale fished through his pack. Dozens of items lay around him in piles. Sasha panted and held out the comic books.
Gale’s dirty face brightened. “Two? Oh. You need more than some beads and buttons for—for two comic books. Is there—there something else you want? I have a lot of stuff. You should come to my house. I’ll show you.”
People insisting that Sasha see their houses hadn’t turned out well in the past—especially when it involved being forced to sit in a dining room and eat cheesecake.
Corvin pointed to a faceted yellow bead in his palm. “These are fabulous. You have more in your house?”
Gale nodded without hesitation. “I have about fifty. Clear ones too.”
“Sounds great.”
Sasha thumbed behind him. “This going to take long time? I could go find Irina myself.”
Gale shoved items back into his pack. “No, no. My, my house isn’t far from here. Then I can show you where she lives.”
Sasha and Corvin followed Gale past small shops and animal pens until arriving at a brick house. A large vegetable garden grew out front, and many metal lawn decorations were staked in the grass. He veered around the house, stopping before a wooden shack in the backyard. Strands of string lights hung like costume jewelry from the roof, fighting the sunset for brilliance. Taxidermied animal heads—deer, moose, and a wolf—graced the walls, their leather faces partially decayed and coated in dirt. Warped and rusted street signs covered the shack door. Around the yard lay an ungodly amount of junk—refrigerators, suitcases, floor lamps, milk crates full of light bulbs, grandfather clocks with smashed faces, an air conditioning unit, and broken ceiling fans.
Gale opened the door and beckoned. “Come in! Come in!”
I’ve already had enough crazy to last a lifetime. “Eh, no thanks, Gale. Think I will wait out here.”
Gale shrugged. “Corvin, you—you should come in and I can give you directions while you—while you pick out your beads.”
Corvin followed Gale into the shack. After a few minutes, he returned with a large mason jar of beads and buttons. Gale waved from the doorway.
“Thanks for—for the trade! If you’re ever in—in Burr again, stop by a
nd say hello!”
Corvin waved, then bent to Sasha’s ear. “And I thought I had a decorating problem.”
Sasha laughed.
19 ~ Reunion ~
Nerves twitched in Sasha’s stomach as he climbed the staircase to Irina’s place. The apartment building sat at the end of a little gravel road, surrounded by tall trees and one electric lamp post.
Corvin frowned. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”
“I just… used to really like this girl. And even though I got my beautiful Dusty, I am hoping Irina see me as better person now.” Sasha wiped his hands on his pants and knocked.
Mutters came through the door, then it swung open. Mikhail’s stern, blocky face scowled out, then fell into surprise as his gaze settled on Sasha.
Sasha’s mouth parted and he lapsed into Russian. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Was going to ask you the same thing. You’ve got some nerve!” He dug his stubby fingers into Sasha’s coat and jerked him into the house. Before he could slam the door, Corvin pushed his way inside.
“Whoa, what the hell, Sasha? I thought this was your friend’s house.”
Sasha tried to twist out of Mikhail’s grip, knocking into an end table and a half-eaten plate of food. “Get your nasty meathooks off me, asshole! Where is Irina?”
“She’s shopping. And you don’t get to talk to her. Not after what you did.” Mikhail glowered and pushed Sasha against the wall. “But me and you—we have a lot to say to each other.”
Corvin pulled at his hair, ruining his perfect side-part. “Sasha, what is going on?”
Sasha swallowed and spoke in American. “Uh, Corvin, this is Mikhail. He was guard at facility.” He turned to Mikhail. “You living with Irina now? You her consort?”
“Yeah. And she don’t want to see your fucking face, nerd.”
Now Sasha did want to throw up. “I see your American is getting better.”
“Why did you do it? You murder my mother, my father, my sister, and my grandma. You murder everybody!” Mikhail glanced at Corvin. “You know your friend here kill everybody in world when he drop virus on Russia?”