by Tex Leiko
“Oh really? You think I’m beautiful?” she asked rhetorically.
Before he could answer, she had turned and started walking back toward him seductively. Her stomach was firm and cut; it was sleek and muscular. Her skin was soft and while and her breasts were small but perky, Max hadn’t noticed earlier that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He definitely noticed now.
He was nervous, embarrassed, and clearly aroused as she slinked back to him. She stood only inches from his face and reached up, stroking her hand across his cheek and to the back of his head. She grabbed onto his hair and gave him a hard tug, pulling his head backward, and kissed his neck. It sent a shiver down his spine and a tingle across his legs.
“I’m nothing more than a terrible tease, Max. Pretend you only got to see me naked in a professional sense. I’m not going to have sex with you…tonight anyway,” she said as she softly kissed his lips and let go of his head.
“I barely know you and I’ve already felt the full spectrum of love and hate for you in such a short period of time. I can only imagine if I pick the wrong side and wind up your enemy.”
“You’ll be dead too quickly to worry about it.” She said it dry, flat, matter-of-fact.
At that, she turned and went into her bedroom. Max, still confused and feeling a bit used, stared at her and took note of how the muscles on her back and shoulders rippled as she walked. The way her hips swayed; he couldn’t tell if she was trying to be seductive or if she was so naturally. He wished he knew whether she was actually interested in him or only playing some sort of game.
“Besides, Max,” he heard her holler from her bedroom, “it would be awful of me to take you to bed tonight when I’ve got a date planned with someone tomorrow.”
“Right, I should have known. You have a line of men waiting to pleasure you.” He said it sarcastically and jokingly, but he was serious.
“You could say that.”
When she returned, she had already gone to another one of the rooms and brought him out some new dry clothes. She was holding some comfortable plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt for him to wear. She, herself, wasn’t wearing anything fancy. Just some fuzzy white pajama pants with cargo pockets and a heavy metal band t-shirt that was too big for her.
In moments, she had transformed herself from a seductive vixen to a frumpy-looking housewife. She no longer looked crazy, or untamable. She no longer looked like the wild woman who had almost gotten them killed and then subsequently rescued them in the same night. She no longer looked like the gun wielding devil he had seen earlier. She now looked tame, domestic. She looked human to him. No longer did she look like an indestructible heroine from a comic book.
“Here, put these on. If you need your privacy, you can change in the first room to the right. It is one of the guest rooms,” she said, throwing the clothes to him and pointing down the hallway she’d emerged from.
“Thanks,” Max said.
She had been pretty open with her body, but Max was feeling insecure. He decided to take her up on the offer of privacy. He walked down the hallway and went into the room she had described. It was simple. It held a queen-sized bed on an oak frame and an elegant carbon fiber dresser. The room was simple, but felt comfortable and cozy.
He finished changing and turned around to walk back to the living room, only to be startled by Crimson standing in the doorway. He jumped a little, and wasn’t sure if he was more startled by the fact he hadn’t heard her creep up or the fact she was holding the pistols again. She had a smirk on her face. She no doubt saw his jumpy nature bleeding through into his every action.
“Don’t worry, I only saw your back. To my disappointment, you already had the pants on by the time I came in.”
“A pity for you.”
“Indeed.”
She handed him one of the pistols and stated, “One under your pillow, one under mine. The safety is on if we are attacked; don’t forget it. I’m sleeping in here with you, so don’t get any ideas. It’s purely because it is safer to be together.”
“Okay, I won’t. Why don’t we go to your room?”
“Nobody but me goes to my room. Now get in bed, Max, and let’s get some rest.”
As they lay in bed together, he couldn’t help but realize they both smelled as if they’d had a hard day. It was a mixture of body odor and that smell rain and asphalt had when it mixed. It wasn’t particularly bad, and there was a good distance between the two of them.
“Max?”
Her voice sounded soft, not like he had heard before.
“Yes?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea, but can you hold me, please? It’s been awhile since I’ve had company.”
“Okay,” he said as he nestled close behind her, putting his head on her shoulder.
“Thanks.”
Crimson sighed and felt comfortable. She wasn’t impervious; she had emotions and needs, even if she didn’t show them, even if they were erratic. Her breathing began to deepen and match Max’s. Before they knew it, they were both deep asleep.
Chapter Seven
You Say You Want A Revolution?
“Wake up, Max darling, wake up,” Crimson said, her voice as soft as silk as she gently shook his shoulders, waking him.
She had been awake since seven that morning. She didn’t need much sleep. She had already attended to some business, gotten dressed, and started breakfast. It was now ten o’clock. She tried to look as sweet as possible as she gently awoke Max, and knelt next to him on the bed.
Max wasn’t one for the morning; he hated waking up. To him, mornings were something to be loathed, not embraced, which was funny seeing as he routinely woke up at six every morning to open the clinic by seven. He grumbled under his breath and swatted at Crimson as she tried to wake him. He was lucky she didn’t retaliate.
He stretched and sprawled, contorting his body in all sorts of unseemly positions as he made awful grumbles and hisses. At one point, Crimson swore he was cursing at her, but the words were barely audible and unrecognizable. She stared at him for a second. If the gentle approach wouldn’t work, she would have to get rough.
She yanked the pillow out from under his head. His head flopped back and hit the gauss pistol she had instructed him to leave there during the night. As the back of his head wrapped the hard pistol, it caused minimal discomfort, not enough to awaken him. Before he knew it, however, Crimson was raining down blows upon his face with the down pillow that had earlier been caressing his head, beguiling him with thoughts of more sleep.
“Wake up, sleepyhead! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” she shouted playfully, hitting him over and over.
Max grumbled and roared. He propped himself up quickly and was facing straight forward. He still was barely able to make words. They all sounded like noises a grumpy bear would make upon waking from hibernation. Signs of his waking didn’t satiate Crimson’s playful nature, however, as she blasted him straight in the face with the pillow so hard that it knocked him back to a laying position.
“C’mon, sleepyhead! Wake up!”
“I’m trying to! Stop hitting me, you frickin’ lunatic! Damn it, you can be a beast!” he shouted back, less than playful.
“Yep, I sure can. Now, get a shower and change. There are clothes that might fit in the dresser across the hall in the other guest room. I’ve started breakfast and I need to get back to it before it burns. What if I was an intruder, by the way? You would be dead for certain. Some good that gun would have done you under your head.”
“When you shook me awake, I knew it was you! Of course I wasn’t going to go for the gun. Knowing you, you would have had me disarmed and been pistol whipping me with it before I could even take the safety off!”
“True. Now get showered and dressed. You’ve got a big day ahead of you, Doctor Max Hall, MD.”
“I get the feeling you’re making fun of me when you say Doctor Max Hall,” he said as he rolled his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
He opened his arms
wide one more time, letting his pectorals stretch. He yawned loudly and bent down and touched his toes. He despised mornings, but somehow, yelling at Crimson had put him in a better mood to face the day. He’d started out angry when she was hitting him with the pillow, but as he yelled, he began to feel playful, almost like he should hit her with a pillow back in good spirits.
Max was always awkward, though, and didn’t quite know how to treat girls who roughhoused with him. He liked Crimson; it was obvious, and he was beginning to feel a bit like a jerk for yelling. He knew he’d sounded gruffer than he meant.
As he continued to stretch, Crimson proceeded on her way out of the room. She was wearing tight blue jeans with a pattern on them of flames and dragons. She had on a short, camisole-styled shirt that was burnt orange in color that showed her midriff, and a tan shawl that covered only her shoulders and the upper portion of her chest.
Max loved her style. It was always unique. He had already seen her in three completely different outfits and he couldn’t help but imagine what else she might have in her wardrobe. As she got close to the doorframe, only about a foot away from him, his body was overtaken by a sudden spark of playfulness. Without warning, he leapt toward her, tackling her to the floor unexpectedly.
They both hit the short blue carpet that covered the floor with a thud. The breath was slightly knocked out of Crimson as they hit. She would have retaliated quickly and put him in his place if it wasn’t for the fact that he was giggling like a child on top of her. She contorted her body and rolled facing him.
“Guess I deserved that, eh, doctor?” she asked, eyeing him playfully.
“Sure did. Sorry for being so grumpy, but you woke the beast in his cave.”
“Good to know the beast takes a long time to awaken before he pounces. Not to kill the playful atmosphere or anything, but I need to go attend to breakfast before it burns.”
“Nope. You’re at my mercy now,” Max said as he got his hands ready to tickle her.
Without warning, she leaned up and bit his bottom lip, hard.
“Unhand me or else I’ll show you a real beast,” she mumbled. Her words were muffled by the fact she had his lip between her teeth.
“Okay, okay,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender as he stood.
She clung with her teeth to his lip until she had it stretched as far as she could. Right as he reached the threshold, she released him, allowing him to stand all the way. With that, she extended her arm and Max helped her to her feet. He showered and she finished cooking breakfast.
When he had come out to the kitchen, he had picked out for himself a pair of tan slacks he had found in the guest room and a collared button-down blue shirt with white pin striping. It was simple, comfortable, and looked professional enough for his clinic. Not that any of his patients would even care, but he did.
They sat at the table in the living room of the house. It appeared to not get a lot of use. There was room for about six people to sit. However, there were only two plates of food out on one corner of the table. Crimson had already decimated most of her food and he felt as if he had some catching up to do. He sat down and began eating. It was still warm so he knew he hadn’t delayed too long in joining her. She is a really quick eater, he thought.
“So, I knew you in high school. We even had two years at the same college. You never paid any attention to me. You were always popular, and you never seemed to care for anyone but yourself. What made you change, Max?”
“Who says I’ve changed?”
“I do. You were known to be the smartest kid in the school no matter where you went. Everyone knew your parents gave you a boost up in life; every bot Synaptix made for intelligence, memory, critical thinking, and more, you had them all. It was no secret your parents wanted you to be smart enough to change everything. You knew you were smart and you were cocky and self-absorbed, the most likely to be some big researcher and make billions. However, you opened a clinic in the middle of the worst area of this city. A clinic that treats the poor who can’t afford all of the modern cures with patients who can barely pay you enough to keep your doors open. How do you explain this? Why not be out there researching more cures and ways to advance mankind? Why not make a big change?”
“Would I really be making a big change if I were a researcher? Sure, I could come up with a new treatment for some disease, but only the rich could afford it. Am I really changing anything if I do that? What if I make billions and with the money, open a charitable clinic like I have now to treat the poor? Would the person I put in charge really care for the people who come in? Or will they do it from a mere obligation to get a paycheck? If you ask me, I’ll leave the research to the greedy, let them ‘better humanity, make a difference.’ As for me, I would rather be on the front lines. I would rather be the one treating the afflicted with my own hands.
“It’s no secret I lived a life of luxury growing up. Even now I have a portion of my parents’ wealth that gets me by. I was self-absorbed. I didn’t care. I did want to be rich… But then I walked through the poor area one day and the things I saw struck me. I know it sounds corny, but I thought to myself, ‘how could I ever be happy with myself knowing there are people who deserve to be cared for dying in the streets, in my very own back yard, so to speak?’
“Alas, I’ve been thinking lately, and I’ve realized over the last five years, I haven’t made the change I want to. I don’t know what it is, but there has to be a better way for me to help everyone; not just the rich, not just the middle class, not just the poor…but everyone.”
His eyes were deep hazel in color and burned with a reflection of sincerity and passion. He meant what he said, and though he had already spoken for a couple of minutes, Crimson could tell he had a lot more to say. There was more to his story; there was more to his passion, but for now, she would leave things as-is.
“Very impressive, and it wasn’t bullshit like I was expecting. Well, later when we meet up with Zarfa, I’ll explain what I am trying to do. Maybe you can make a big change.”
Crimson finished her last couple of bites, stood up, walked over to the sink, rinsed her plate, and left it there. “Just leave it there when you’re done,” she said as she disappeared down the hallway where he knew her bedroom was located.
When she came back, she had a gun on her hip and a plasma dagger in its sheath on her inner right thigh. She was holding another longer plasma blade in its sheath in her hand. Judging by the sheath, it was about the same length and shape as a Wakizashi sword.
“A present for you; you may need it. Knowing me is a health hazard,” she stated, tossing it in his direction.
Max grabbed it in the air and smiled. “Like I could even use this thing to defend myself.”
“You use a scalpel sometimes, don’t you?”
“It isn’t the same. The patients usually aren’t moving, and they usually aren’t trying to kill me.”
“Well, at least you know where to aim to kill someone who is trying to kill you. Let’s go, I told Zarfa mid-day and it is already ten-thirty. If we leave now, we can make it to the clinic by eleven. Plus, I am sure you’ve got some patients that would like to see you.”
“You would think, but even practically free care isn’t being used much these days. It seems strange. When I first started, I treated diseases and conditions daily. Now, it seems like nobody needs me, but I know these diseases haven’t disappeared; only the patients have.”
“Strange,” she said, as if she knew the answer why.
* * * *
When Zarfa woke in the morning, he was lying on the couch in his living room. He slept there because of the sprawling puddle of dried, rotting blood on his bed. His nose and stomach revolted at the stench of it decaying on his sheets; the flies buzzing around his apartment had no doubt been laying their eggs in it all night long.
Of all the things we killed in the Great Extinction, why couldn’t flies have been one of them? He gagged on the thought of maggots wriggling around all
over his bed. He glanced over to the doorway and saw his backpack with the Psyker nanobot treatments there, and his mind raced back to earlier that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he recalled all that had occurred.
How did I hear Badger before I had even met him?
Zarfa stood and looked at the alarm clock by his bedside. Ten-twenty-two; it was about the time he always slept until. With his job of fighting in the underground matches, he usually didn’t finish work and get to bed until two or three in the morning so even though he was exhausted from his now healed injuries, he really hadn’t stayed up much later than he was used to.
Zarfa walked over to his bedside and opened the drawer to the nightstand that his alarm clock rested on. Inside the drawer was an array of boosts; he used them on occasion and felt it best to have one of every sort lying around. He reached in and pulled out a neon yellow one clearly marked “energy” on the label. He popped off the cap, stuck the small needle into his arm, and shot it in.
Immediately, his body began to surge with an almost electric-like energy. He didn’t feel jittery or shaky at all; he felt rested and ready to take on any challenge that might come his way. First, he had to deal with this stench; he couldn’t handle it any longer. He stripped off his sheets and threw them in the alleyway outside of his apartment.
They aren’t worth the hassle to wash. I have half a mind to burn the whole damn bed.
He examined the mattress and his blood had soaked through and deeply stained the material. He knew no matter what he did to clean it, there would be no way to get the blood out, so he flipped the mattress and reminded himself he wouldn’t be living in Alexarien much longer. The smell was already better, even though it still lingered in the air.
Zarfa made haste to get showered and change into some clean clothes. He checked the clock again and it was about eleven. He figured he could go by Max’s about noon and hear what Crimson had to say. Right now, however, he needed food. His stomach was still revolting over the stench in the apartment, but he could also feel his digestive acids eating the lining of his churning stomach.