Under Dark Sky Law

by Tamara Boyens

  Strands of his jet black hair had fallen across his eyes and she brushed it away from his forehead. “So they hauled it out to the pits,” she said.

  He smiled, but there was sadness to it. “They sacrificed a lot for me,” he said simply.

  She clicked her tongue in understanding. “This is your hometown,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

  He nodded. “In a manner of speaking. I guess this is where I was reborn in a way, and I’ve spent a lot of time here working as a mercenary and otherwise. It’s not quite as crowded as Yuma was, and I always liked it. People here are friendly but discreet. It’s a good place,” he said.

  She poked at his nose. “So tell me the end of the story. I want all the gritty details,” she said.

  “Jesus, you’re merciless. You can guess,” he said.

  She scoffed. “Come on. You’re a big boy, you can handle it. I like to get to know the people I work intimately with,” she said and ground her crotch into his hips.

  He rolled his eyes. “My parents put me through hell, and I almost died a lot of times while they tried to get the cybernetics right in an environment that wasn’t exactly equipped for advanced shit like that. Gila Bend was nice as far as the pits back then, and even now it’s still pretty decent for a flat, but it’s still no place to do experimental organ transplant on a child,” he said.

  “There’s something you’re leaving out,” she said. “You didn’t get that final pair of lungs from your parents, and you didn’t get those additional modifications from them either, did you?”

  “You’re sharp, but a man’s got to keep some secrets. You’re right though, I’ll give you that. They died when I was very young.” he said.

  She cocked her head to the side. “That doesn’t make any sense. If they figured out how to replace your lungs, why not do it to each other?” she said.

  “Who said they didn’t?” he said.

  It took a moment, but Xero let out a sigh of understanding. “Ah, so they were caught,” she said.

  His face became hard and his eyes got a blank, faraway look in them. “They were already under suspicion due to their known history in cybernetic engineering. So there you go. I think that’s more than enough information for one night,” he said.

  She wanted to keep pressing him for details about how exactly he managed to avoid being exterminated himself, or how he ended up with adult-sized cybernetic lungs, but she decided to let it be for the moment. She had a good sense for when she had pushed someone too far, and there was nothing to be gained by shoving Radar over the brink.

  She tapped a finger on his chest between his clavicles. “That’ll do for now,” she said.

  “I’m not sure what I signed up for if the people on your crew are anything like you,” he said.

  She shifted around on top of him. “Don’t worry, I’m probably the worst of the bunch and I promise you’ll make enough money working with me to make it more than worth your while,” she said, thinking to herself that Neptune might actually be worse than her, but he would find that out for himself if everything went right.

  He grunted and rolled, tossing her onto the other side of the bed and landing straddled across her abdomen.

  “If we’re all not dead before that,” he said and stared down at her.

  She reached up and tickled his navel. He giggled, caught off guard, and it was bizarre to hear such a frivolous sound coming from such a serious face.

  “We could all die tomorrow, but until then, you may as well gather as much money and power as you can,” she said.

  He smirked, leaned down, and kissed her. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” he said.

  He ran the broad side of his thick rough thumb across her forehead, rubbing off a smudge of dirt. “Sorry the shower’s busted right now. Lotta jacked up plumbing in this area,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. Bitch can’t catch a break in this century,” she said.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Honey, I’m home!” Xero called.

  “Boss!” Milo yelled and came running up to the door. His shaggy, naturally red hair came down just past his chin, and the sprinkling of freckles across his nose made him look much younger than he really was. The dark circles under his eyes hinted at what a heavy burden he actually carried as the territory area’s medical director.

  They were in their main bunker, an old bowling alley just outside the remains of the freeway. Previously called “Golden Lanes” in another era, the faded logo still peeked out layers of corrosion and dust on various surfaces of the building. They stood in the main hall, which they used for team meetings, band practice, and more importantly actual bowling.

  Xero had just come through the bunker’s main door with Radar not far behind her. Ignoring the other man, Milo flung his arms wide to embrace Xero, but stopped after seeing the rough condition of her skin. “Ah jeez Xero, you didn’t tell me how fucked up you were,” he said.

  She scratched her head sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s been a fuckin’ rough week for sure,” she said.

  Milo shook his head disapprovingly. “I’ve got one Grease Weasel MIA, Trina’s down hard with the zaps, and you’re out there playing rodeo clown,” he said. “I’m going to have to drag you down to the infirmary for the night, make sure you didn’t pick up any nasty infections—some of those wounds aren’t looking so good.”

  “You really know how to throw a welcome home party,” she said.

  “I aim to please,” he replied and stuck his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a faded green and red flannel shirt, making him look far more like a juvenile band groupie rather than an important medical professional. But when they were performing in concert he fit right in, and you never would have guessed his true age or responsibilities.

  Looking past Xero, he walked forward and extended his hand towards Radar.

  “Sorry for the bad manners. My name’s Milo—I hear you saved our boss’ hide out there. Welcome to the Grease Weasels,” he said.

  Radar shook his hand. “Glad to be of service. This is the first time I’ve ever been to the Tucson pits. You guys have some pretty impressive security here,” he said.

  It was damned hard breaking into their territory, and even with the big cheese along for the ride, clearing a new immigrant into the area had taken some time.

  “We don’t fuck around,” a short woman said as she emerged from a door behind Radar’s back.

  “Indeed,” Radar said.

  “Thanks, I run a tight ship,” the woman said and ran a hand through her cropped black hair.

  Radar extended his hand again. “Name’s Radar,” he said.

  “Neptune. I handle security around here,” she said.

  She was probably half Radar’s height, but when she gripped his hand, she used her surprising strength to physically pull him closer. “I hear you’re an engineer,” she said.

  He took her aggressive introduction in stride. “I am indeed. Pleased to meet you,” he said. His eyes wandered to the bowling lanes. “Do those things still work?”

  “Absolutely,” Neptune said.

  Neptune kept those lanes going like they were new. She also made sure the interior was kept clean—most of the wood and vinyl surfaces had been restored, and if you walked in unawares, you wouldn’t even know you were actually in the middle of an exile’s wasteland. That is, except for the shoe rental stand that had been transformed into a weapons rack. Then again, Tucson had always been a little rough around the edges to begin with.

  Radar nodded his approval. “Nice restoration. I don’t remember the last time I saw a working lane,” he said.

  “We don’t fuck around when it comes to recreation,” she said.

  With Neptune still gripping his hand he leaned forward and said, “I don’t fuck around when it comes to anything.”

  Neptune smiled and released his hand. “You’ll do. Remind me to show you some of our toys one of these days, once you’ve proved your
salt,” she said.

  “I’m always up for anything that involves tools,” he said.

  Milo stamped his foot on the floor. “You guys are such hard asses. He already proved his salt by saving our boss’ ass,” he said. “Alright Neptune, why don’t you find Radar a room where he can get cleaned up, and then see if you can round up some food to eat. I’m going to take Xero down to the clinic to make sure she’s not slowly dying of another flesh eating bacteria attack or something else she picked up in the flats,” he said.

  Xero crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “Are you fucking serious? You want to drag me all the way down to the university clinic?” she said.

  Milo just looked at her, waiting for the tantrum to pass. He was probably the only one that could get away with telling her what to do like that.

  She threw up her hands. “Oh fine, I know you won’t fucking stop nagging me until I go, and I’ll never get any peace and quiet,” she said.

  Milo nodded resolutely. “Trust me, debriding some of those wounds will be a lot less uncomfortable in an actual clinic. Once you’re cleared and everyone is clean and fed, we can powwow to talk about our next move,” he said.

  Xero took a step back and raised both eyebrows. “Look at you stepping up and being a leader,” she said.

  Milo blushed but then straightened up and took a proud breath. “Well someone had to run this place while you were off gallivanting around,” he said.

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “You done good Milo, you done good,” she said and sighed. “Meanwhile, I’ve basically been fucking up shit left and right.”

  Milo looked her up and down. “Give yourself a break—have you taken a look in the mirror recently? You look like death,” he said.

  Neptune nodded and rocked back onto the heels of her studded black combat boots. “Sorry to say this boss, but you look like shit,” she said.

  Xero threw up her hands. “Alright already, I get it, I get it. I’ll go to the clinic. And please, someone fucking tell me our shower facilities are working,” she said.

  Neptune gave her a thumbs up. “All systems are operational,” she said.

  “Thank fucking god,” Xero said.

  CHAPTER 18

  After enduring more poking and prodding and any number of uncomfortable things from Milo down at the University clinic, Xero was almost too exhausted to make it back to take the long awaited shower. The university had been abandoned around the times of the revolution, and they had done some significant work to restore and use the facilities for a variety of things. There were a great deal of abandoned labs with all kinds of useful equipment and supplies that they had been able to refurbish, and the entire university medical clinic had been up for grabs. While Golden Lanes was their home base, the university was really the true hub of their business operation. Milo ran the clinic that kept everyone alive, and his services were used far too frequently, which kept him constantly busy. The campus was also the source of their main revenue stream—Alphamine. It’s amazing the fun you can have with abandoned chemistry labs.

  “Jesus Christ that fucking hurt,” she said. She laid her head back against the clean exam table. The small room was sparsely furnished—just the exam table, an instrument tray, a bright overhead light, and a doctor’s stool, but everything was immaculately clean, which was an immense feat out in the pits. They took pride in keeping their shit together.

  He had finally stopped stabbing her with what seemed like an endless line of injections, some of which left burning sensations crawling and creeping over her skin and in her veins. The injections along with a some Machiavellian scrubbing and debriding of some of the peeling burns and damaged tissue, it felt like her whole body was on fire. A long IV needle was throbbing in the crook of an elbow because of Milo’s insisting that she needed to hydrate to help with lost blood volume and to speed healing of some of the remaining chemical burns.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “After the last time you picked up that shit that you brought back from the flats and it spread to other people, I don’t really want to take any chances. Our numbers are dwindling as it is.”

  “Point taken,” she said. She wasn’t exactly in a hurry to have another month long battle with flesh-eating microbes anyway.

  “You sure you don’t want any pain medication?” he said.

  She put her hands over her face, the light from the doctor’s lamp searing through her palms and closed eyelids. “I had a moment of weakness out there in the dead zones, but we’re not in mortal peril now, so I’ll pass. You know how I am,” she said.

  She could hear the sounds of him cleaning up needles, gauze, blood, and sutures. “Yeah I do, you’re a fucking eternal pain in the ass, Xero the queen of the desert” he said and laughed.

  “The one and only,” she said, laughing along with him. She sat up again, stifling more than one groan. “Seriously, though. Thanks for watching over shit down here. I couldn’t have done a better job myself.”

  He stopped his cleanup, a sad looking falling over his face. “I’m doing the best I can,” he said, and she knew what he was talking about.

  “But it’s not enough,” she said. “I know. I’m sorry we failed, but I honestly wasn’t expecting a major terrorist event to fuck our shit over. When we get back to base we’ll figure out what our next move is.”

  He turned his back and began washing his hands. “Do you want to see her?” he said softly.

  She scooted further towards the “I was going to ask you if I could, but I don’t want to make things worse,” she said.

  He dropped his head and shook it back and forth, still facing towards the sink. “It doesn’t matter. She’s intubated and unconscious,” he said.

  She followed him down the hallway, dragging the IV pole behind her. The hallways were dark until they triggered dim lights that flashed on and turned off once they’d passed. Ostensibly all the flats and pits were still under dark sky law. Enforcement of the dark sky laws was shoddy at best, but it was one set of statutes that Xero didn’t mind enforcing. They had worked really hard to become essentially energy independent—they had one of the largest solar arrays in the country, along with some sporadic wind and biofuel options that let them have power for what they needed when they wanted it.

  However, that wasn’t any reason to just squander their energy. They were constantly under threat of attack from marauders, and other rival cartels that would love to steal their resources. Other issues such as weather hazards could also take a bite out of their energy resources at any moment. Instead of taking their cues from some of the smarter pits, the domes and flats were still squandering their energy, using resources that couldn’t be replaced, keeping the streets lit up like old world Christmas trees, as though the great fall had never happened. It was just smarter to design your community to be as efficient and ecologically sound as possible. Plus, the sky always looked so much better under dark sky laws—some nights you could even see stars through the usual haze.

  “It’s awfully quiet,” she said as she loped along the dim hallway.

  “That’s because I have this whole wing roped off as a private section for security purposes, as well as just for the sake of selfishness. I want this wing ready to go for injured Grease Weasels, meaning it needs to be empty and easy to secure, and I also just wanted Trina to have privacy,” he said.

  Their shadows flickered and danced like an old reel to reel movie under the oscillating lights.

  “Well you sure made certain that it looks creepy and menacing. It’s got that whole thing goin’ for it,” Xero said.

  Milo shot her a look and she gave a conciliatory shrug in his direction. At the end of the hallway she could hear sounds of a respirator pumping in and out and a brighter light shone out through the doorway. She followed him inside and a stab of anger shredded its way through her heart. Trina was laying motionless in the hospital bed, connected to innumerable tubes and wires, her chest gently rising and falling with a steady, even pu
lse.

  The room smelled like death.

  She looked like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, with her bleached blond hair spread out around her pillow like damp seaweed. She had been sick long enough that several inches of her dark roots were showing. Her almond shaped eyes looked like they were they were moving underneath her lids, but her pale lips were deathly motionless where they pursed around the grey ventilator tube.

  “She’s not contagious like that—the spores are deep in her lungs and it’s all being processed by the ventilator,” he said, perhaps noticing Xero’s hesitation to get any closer. She wasn’t afraid of death or contagion. She was afraid of boiling over with anger at seeing one of her best friends incapacitated like that while she was paralyzed to do anything about it because some asshole had decided to blow up a whole goddamn dome.

  She took several deep breaths and approached the bedside where she put her hands around Trina’s cold fingers. “Don’t worry, my friend. We won’t let you go out like this. The cavalry is on it’s way,” she said and thought she saw some response in the movements of Trina’s eyes. She was probably imagining it, but she liked the thought that Trina might be still in there, awake and fighting.

  She turned to Milo who was standing fixed in place, quiet tears tumbling down his freckled face. He looked like a child looking death in its terrible face hundreds of times, even though the truth was he’d seen hundreds, thousands of people die in his lifetime. He wasn’t a fighter by nature, but when put into a corner, Milo would fight and kill with the best of them.

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “Get this thing out of my arm so we can get back to base. Time’s wasting,” she said.