by Brian Parker
“Then what? I can tell that something’s bothering you very deeply. Please tell me.”
“It’s you, Tracy, and how we met. I’ve been placed in charge of something within the department and our friendship jeopardizes the integrity of it.”
“Friendship? I don’t do things like we did for friends, Misha. So let’s drop the false pretense and at least be honest with what we are.”
“What are we, Tracy? I don’t really know since it happened so fast.”
“Fast, yes. Seamless one might say—and why do you suppose that is? Think of how our bodies melded as one and you knew instinctively the things I wanted you to do. Do you remember how I found just the perfect spot and worked it until… That wasn’t chance, Misha. It was us and our natural instinct for each other.”
“I know. I feel it too. There’s something here but circumstances are such that—” I began, but she interrupted.
“Are such that we are not allowed to love? What have we done to be cast away from something that so many others have?”
“It’s not like that, Tracy. I mean, once this case is done we can meet and talk about things.”
“Oh. I don’t know if I’ll be willing to talk about things then, Misha. You’re casting me out onto the streets because your job told you to. That doesn’t speak of love very much, now does it?” she asked accusingly before turning away so that she could hide her tears from me.
Tears? She’s crying? This was awkward and I didn’t know if I should be touched by the wealth of emotion flowing from her, or annoyed. Goddamn it, I didn’t want her to leave, but I had no choice.
Her sobs rippled down her body in a most delightful way, distracting me again. So voluptuous, so edible that I could taste her scent and tried to store it for future reference. I knew this was the last time that I’d see her.
“I’m sorry but…you have to go,” I said as she stifled her tears and dabbed at her eyes with a towel. Then, she looked at me and gave one burst of a laugh to ease the tension.
“I guess it won’t help me find a new home with mascara running down my face, now will it?” she said, trying to ease the situation.
“You really have nowhere else to go?” I asked, finding it hard to believe, while wondering if I had enough cash to get her a hotel room somewhere. The memory of her credit implant seeming to have escaped me.
“No, I’m alone. You want to go into the bedroom one more time before I leave?” she asked, causing my blood to pump feverishly through my veins. No, I couldn’t risk it. Every minute I was exposed to her jeopardized the case. Too much more exposure to her and I wouldn’t be able to follow through.
“No, it could cause issues. Quick and clean would be best,” I said, not able to keep the tears from my own eyes.
“Okay then. I’ll just get my things and go. The roast will be done in a half hour and the rue is for the gravy. I’m sorry that you’ll have to enjoy it alone.”
“I am too, Tracy. Look, when all of this is done maybe we ca—” My words were stopped with her fingers pressed lightly to my lips. I couldn’t help but flick my tongue out for one last taste of her.
“You can cast me out, or send me away, or whatever you want to call it. I bet, however, that you won’t deny me this,” she said as her fingers slid behind my neck, pulling me closer as she stepped in so that our bodies flowed together. I could feel her half-naked form pressed against my uniform, her nipples rigid as they poked me, her sexual scent filling the room. She leaned in and kissed me with full lips, her tongue probing.
My right hand went to her waist and then up to her breasts as my left slid down behind her ass. I knew where this was going and I couldn’t stop it, I didn’t want to stop it. I wanted it to be the one that I remembered no matter if I lived forever, or even just… one… more… minute.
I felt a slight prick on the back of my neck as if one of her many rings had a sharp barb sticking out from it, perfectly innocent I thought until the chemical rushed into my brain, stopping my mind’s connection to my body. I went stiff and marveled at Tracy’s strength as she gently guided me to the floor. She straddled me as if I wore a strap-on. My eyes were wild and confused, while hers were peaceful and serene.
She reached up and roughly grabbed one of my breasts as she spoke.
“It could have been so nice, Misha. I would have treated you like a queen and done anything you wanted me to do but you couldn’t have that, could you? You could have been mine. It doesn’t matter, I guess,” she said as she massaged my breast and ran her other finger down my chin. She leaned over and traced my lips with her tongue as if she truly was regretful. I could feel the heat between her legs on my belly and though I was drugged and helpless on the floor, a victim to god knows what, I still lusted for her.
“Still horny I see,” she said as she pinched my rigid nipple, causing a little pain yet exciting me even more. I was wondering if this was going to turn into some sort of lesbian rape or bondage when she touched her left ear and spoke.
“Subject O-positive is down and ready for harvest.”
My world went black.
ABOUT JOSEPH HANSEN
Joseph H. Hansen also writes under the name of H.J. Harry. He is a self-studied author who has made excellent use of the online educational tools such as Other Worlds Writers Workshop a.k.a. OWWW and various other focused critiquing groups.
He is the author of the full length novels Zombie Rush one through four (apocalyptic), Splinter (absolute horror) and Cousin Sonny (genre unknown.), as well as his latest novel Wayward Son. He also wrote the short stories “Practice Makes Perfect” in All Things Zombies’ anthology A Gathering Horde, “Town Home” in Bite Sized Offerings and the “Civilians” stories located in both of John O’Brien’s Untold Stories. He is the author of the fantasy novelette Children Of The Ice Gods. He’s currently riding upon the backs of very few, but highly recommending reviews of which he hopes to garner more through hard work and the desire to bring readers exciting stories like they have never read before.
LINKS
Touch base with Joe on Facebook and he will tell you all that you want to know and more. Or you could join his mailing list at [email protected] and he will send you a free e copy of one of his first two novels and let you know when the next is available.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Joseph-Hansen/e/B014PLPSJC
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Roots
By Brian Parker
ONE
Easytown 2074
“Where do you think you’re going, fatty?”
Theo stopped cold in his tracks. He knew that voice. It was Brad Railton. He lived in an apartment six floors above the one-bedroom flat that Theo shared with his mother, his aunt, and her boyfriend in the Eagle Apartments. For extra money, they rented the floor space by the door to an old man who wanted to sleep off the street at night.
Easytown’s streets weren’t even safe for a world-wise, penniless homeless guy at night.
Brad was thirteen and a fighter. He’d already jumped into a gang, but Theo couldn’t remember which one had finally snatched him up. There were way too many of them in the neighborhood to keep track of.
“I said, where do you think you’re going?” Brad repeated.
Theo turned around, stretching his spine to his full height of five foot six. He was big for a twelve-year-old, taller than everyone in his class, with a large stomach and titties like a pre-pubescent girl. But, he was stronger than most kids he ran across too. He’d even beaten a teenager in arm wrestling a few weeks ago, earning a few extra bucks that went toward his family’s rent money. His mother swore that he’d make it as a professional football player and earn millions—as long as he could keep his nose clean.
“I don’t want any trouble, Brad,” Theo replied, surprised that his voice wasn’t shaking in fear. Brad wasn’t alone.
“Aww, the little baby doesn’t want trouble,” Brad teased, slapping hands with the kid to his left, while the teen on Brad’s ri
ght pulled out a vibrablade.
Sparks danced along the edges of the long, thin knife. “You done fucked up, kid,” the knife-wielding ganger whispered softly.
“I don’t have no money,” Theo stated.
“What ‘bout your ma? Don’t she got money?” Brad asked. “That old fool, Toothless Tommy, stays with you at night. He pay for a roof over his head, or he plowin’ his dick in yo momma’s field?”
Theo didn’t know what Brad meant. They did have a garden, everyone in his building shared the garden, but as far as he knew, old Tom hadn’t ever worked in the apartment garden.
“Na. My mom ain’t got no money neither,” he replied. “Gov’ment pays us to stay here in food, not money. All her trick creds go to our landlord.”
“Why you steppin’ up to me, worm?” the teen with the vibrablade asked.
“I ain’t moved,” Theo said.
The knife made a humming and popping sound as the kid stepped closer to him, placing the tip of the blade against Theo’s chest. “You gots your chest all puffed up like a pelican. Are you a birdie bird?”
Theo took a step back, eying the blue arcs of electricity with appreciation. “I ain’t steppin’ up to you and I ain’t got no money, so leave me alone.”
He turned and began walking back toward The Lane where he’d been headed when they stopped him. The only thing those street rats respect is self-confidence, he told himself as he put one foot in front of the other.
He’d only taken a few steps when the side of his head exploded in blinding pain and he staggered in the opposite direction.
They’d punched him! One of those jerks had punched him when he wasn’t looking.
“Ow!” he wailed, all pretext of acting bigger and badder than he was, gone.
“You don’t disrespect the Banshees!” one of them shouted as another blow landed in the middle of his back, forcing him to his knees.
He heard them howl with glee, shouting, “Banshees!” as they worked him over. He endured their kicks and punches for several minutes, bleeding from both nostrils and several places along his split lips.
Finally, the Banshees tired of the beating. One final kick to his face and Theo Corrigan’s torture was over.
“Who did it to you this time?” Theo’s mother asked, wiping the blood away from his face with a soft cloth.
“Some gangers who wanted money,” he replied through broken teeth and swollen lips.
“Did you tell them we don’t have any?” They didn’t even have money for a hospital visit, so his treatment consisted of ice cubes and Epsom salt baths in a tub of collected rainwater.
He nodded sullenly. The Banshees had worked him over for the fourth time in as many weeks, but he’d never broken his silence about who it was who’d actually beat him up each time. He wasn’t a snitch.
He was, however, planning his revenge.
“How are you gonna be my bodyguard if you get yourself broken up?” His mother was a prostitute, specializing in the twin sister fetish market, even though she and her aunt weren’t actually twins. They were eleven months apart, but with the right makeup and lighting, they were dead ringers for each other.
He eyed his mother’s own blackened eye, a match to his. “You need protection, Mama.”
“I don’t need no pimp, Theo. Selma and I do good on our own, just some folks get heavy-handed in their excitement.”
“What about Hoot? He can’t take care of you two?”
His aunt’s boyfriend, Hoot, was a dealer; small-time in the grand scheme of things, but he had access to weapons and such. He could take care of Theo’s mom and her sister.
“Hoot’s out makin’ his money. You’re already a big boy, you’ll be able to take care of me in a couple of years. ’Til then, we’ll just have to make do and keep the customers happy.”
Theo grunted noncommittally and pushed himself off the bed. “Hey, where you goin’? We was havin’ a talk, Theo.”
“Sorry, Mama. I gotta go talk to someone ’bout some stuff.”
“But your face, baby. You need some ice.”
“I’ll find some.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ll take care of you, Mama. Don’t you worry none.”
He slipped down the back stairwell that fed out into the alley. It was daytime, so he risked the quicker route to the street. If it’d been night, he wouldn’t have dared enter the alley.
Hoot sold whatever his boss gave him each day on the corner of Jubilee Lane and Q Street. It wasn’t far, only a few miles, so he began walking.
In any other ward in the city, he’d have to hide from the cops on a Tuesday afternoon, but not in Easytown. They didn’t give a shit whether the residents went to class or not.
He saw Hoot long before he was close enough to call out to him. His face hurt, but he couldn’t resist the grin that spread across his face when he decided to prank him. He shot down a side street at a sprint, ignoring the cries of alarm from the street people.
Running around here usually meant the police were coming.
Theo went two blocks over and then came back up Q toward The Lane. He ducked behind a stinking dumpster and watched until Hoot turned his back. Then he struck.
“Give me the cash, asshole,” he said as gruffly as he could make his voice, jamming two fingers into Hoot’s kidney.
The dealer raised both hands quickly, reacting without thinking. Then, he stopped. Turning his head slowly, he saw Theo.
“Why, you goddamned curr,” Hoot hissed. “I outta beat your dumb ass worse than those gangers did.”
Theo laughed, ignoring the pain. Hoot was all talk. He wasn’t wired in the head for violence, which is one of the main reasons Aunt Selma stayed with him. Even though he sometimes blew his part of the rent money on drugs, he was still a pacifist. It was a welcome difference to a prostitute in Easytown.
“Hoot, I need something from you,” Theo said after he’d chuckled himself out.
“What is it, kid? I’m busy.”
“No, you aren’t. I watched you for ten minutes; ain’t nobody buying nothin’ right now.”
“That can change any second, and nobody’s gonna buy anything from me if there’s a kid hangin’ ’round.”
“I want anabolics,” Theo stated.
Hoot turned back to him. “That ain’t gonna stop those gangers from beatin’ on ya.”
“I know—not now anyways. But it’ll help in the future. How’m I gonna be there for Momma and Aunt Selma if I ain’t got no big muscles?”
“Big muscles don’t earn you respect out here on the streets, Theo. Skill does.”
“That’ll come later,” he replied. “I need the steroids, Hoot.”
Hoot regarded him for a moment before asking, “You’re gonna get them anyway, aren’t you?”
Theo nodded. “If it ain’t from you, then I’ll go see Skinny Mick.”
Hoot hissed. “That worthless piece of trash cuts his drugs with all sorts of stuff. You’d probably end up dead in a week.”
“Then you sell me the drugs.”
Hoot seemed to deliberate, and then finally relented. “You can’t tell nobody where you get your stuff. You hear me?”
“Yeah, Hoot. I hear ya.”
“I mean it, Theo. Ain’t nobody gonna learn about this. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“How you gonna pay?”
“Pay?”
“Jesus, kid! I can’t go around giving away Mr. Jacob’s product. You gotta pay for it.”
“Oh,” Theo replied. He hadn’t thought that part through. The laughter of a woman on The Lane rang out clearly in the afternoon drizzle and an idea came to him. He’d pickpocketed before, he’d just have to step up his game enough to pay for the drugs.
“How much is it?”
TWO
Easytown 2077
Theo stretched his arm across his body to loosen his shoulders, first one, and then the other. Years of preparation had gone into this moment. Years of enduring mental torment and physical abuse, pr
etending to be helpless when he knew he’d grown beyond that. Years of taking anabolics, lifting whatever he could find to strengthen his body. He’d likely even taken years away from his mother’s miserable life with all the worry he caused her.
All for this moment. Brad Railton was going down.
Theo adjusted the small vidrig on his chest when he was done stretching. He tried to push the anger in his head aside, but it wouldn’t subside this time. Lately he’d had a harder time doing that, pushing the anger aside. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it if he concentrated, it was just easier if he let the raw emotions flow. His uncle, Hoot, said it was because he was a hormonal wreck; his mamma blamed the steroids.
What did she know? She made her living sucking cock and lying on her back. Hoot was right. He just needed to concentrate and—Never mind, he thought. I’ll use this to my advantage.
“You ready for your beat down, Two-Ton Theo?” Brad spat.
“Yeah. All those other lessons you taught me before. That was all for this moment, huh?”
“Shut up, initiate,” someone yelled from beyond the small circle of rope around them. “You don’t talk unless we tell you to.”
Theo glanced at the assembled crowd. The Banshees had grown to almost twenty members. Their membership ranged from common street thugs, to drug dealers and murderers. His entire plan hinged on this moment. He would have to be fast or else the Banshees would stop him before he could exact his revenge.
He was going to be jumped in to the Banshees tonight. If everything went according to their schedule, the Welcoming Committee would beat him to a bloody pulp, then give him a combination of amphetamine stimulants and Amplify, an aerosolized erectile dysfunction drug. Once the drugs kicked in, he was supposed to rape a woman they’d snatched off The Lane while they recorded everything. It would allegedly ensure complete loyalty to the gang since they’d have that evidence against him.