Vacuum (The Cataclysm Series Book 1)

by Michelle Rene

  “This is a customer,” responded the woman at my side.

  “Katie, I can’t. It’s my time,” the girl urged as she turned to face me. “Sorry Mister, the shop’s down for repairs. Try back in a few days.”

  “No, Dollface, he’s looking for Salem.”

  “Katie, you know Salem doesn’t do that type of work.”

  “My goodness girl,” said Katie and pushed past Dollface and led me into the apartment. “The man just wants a haircut.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, Salem is out, but you’re welcome to—”

  “I’m here,” said a new woman’s voice as she pushed passed the door and entered the loft with us. Lilac slapped me in the face upon her entrance. The room seemed to fill with the scent of her. She stepped lighter than most as she crossed over to Katie and hugged her. There seemed to be a slight breeze that followed her around, blowing her smell this way and that. I wondered if she had long hair that acted like a fan when she moved. The energy of the room changed upon her arrival. These two loved her. It had been a while since I had been in the presence of a lot of women, but this fact was tangible.

  “What do we have here?”

  “This one wants a haircut,” Katie said.

  “Is that so? What kind of man walks through the red district looking for a haircut?”

  “Salem,” whispered Dollface. “He’s blind. Be nice.”

  A scowl crossed my lips and Salem laughed.

  “He’s blind, honey. He’s not deaf.”

  The women laughed, and Dollface huffed to herself.

  “I’m going back to bed,” she said as she stomped away and slammed a door behind her. I felt the attention turn back to me.

  “So, a haircut? Are you armed?”

  “He’s got a funny looking knife under his jacket. It’s on the left side of his belt,” said Katie.

  I was impressed. She had not given away anything before then. I was either no threat to her, or she trusted I was not planning to use it on her.

  “A funny looking knife huh? Sorry Mister, I don’t attend to people who are armed. Sort of a house rule.”

  “Understood,” I said as I removed my barrook from its sheath and offered it to her. “I will expect it back when I leave.”

  There was a moment of stillness before Salem took the weapon from me. Most people never got a chance to see a barrook in person, and the sight often shocked them a little. It was shorter than a common sword and just longer than a machete. Only the top inch of the blade was serrated, but the entire edge was sharp beyond belief. Many had no idea what it was, but the energy around Salem reverberated with something else. Unless I was mistaken, she recognized the weapon.

  “Wow,” said Katie. “That is a funny looking knife.”

  There was a special groove worn into the flat end of a barrook. The groove was designed to fit a grasping hand perfectly. When a man held out his barrook in surrender, he always would hold onto the handle. Out of respect, the person he was surrendering the weapon to would grab the blade at the groove and wait for the man to release the handle. This signified the person taking the barrook realized a man had to first willingly release his weapon. Whoever held the handle had the upper hand of the weapon. One could try to take a barrook like this in battle, but they would normally end up losing a hand.

  To take the weapon at the hilt was insulting and signified you did not know etiquette. Salem grabbed his weapon on the groove and respectfully waited for me to release it to her. I did, and she placed it on a nearby table fifteen paces away.

  What sort of girl was this?

  Chapter Four

  Katie left us after I had been disarmed and rendered helpless in their minds. I could tell Salem was not convinced. She stepped gingerly around me as if I were a snake that could bite her at any moment.

  I sat in a chair she provided and she wrapped a sheet about my shoulders. She offered a glass of water, and I took it thankfully. I wanted to exude trustworthiness to her so she might relax. Normally, people naturally trusted blind people. I never understood the school of thought behind it, but when you could not see, you were considered safe. Salem was not buying the idea, and I knew there was more to her than just a nice voice and a light step.

  “I will have to remove this band,” she said while lightly touching the thin cloth that wrapped around my head and covered my eyes.

  “Is there a way to work around it?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  Well, at least she had asked first. I nodded and she removed the band. Lilacs danced around my head.

  “I’ll wash it for you if you like.”

  “Thank you.”

  The air was getting tenser. She was being very careful with me as she poured small amounts of water at a time over my hair. I could hear the tiny thrumming of her heartbeat with her chest so close to my ear. She pulled out her scissors and began snipping here and there around my head.

  “This is some mop, Mister.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Mind telling me your real name?”

  “Mind telling me yours?”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “Salem sounds made up.”

  She stopped for a moment.

  “Don’t be a dick,” she snorted.

  “I wasn’t trying to be.”

  “Well, it isn’t a nice thing to say. Blindness doesn’t give you the right to be cruel.”

  “It’s just a question. Since when is a question cruel? Is Salem your real name?”

  “It’s real enough to me. I chose it a long time ago, and it’s how everyone who matters to me knows me.”

  She continued to snip away and I felt wet clumps of hair fall on my shoulders.

  “And you? What’s your name?”

  I said nothing and let the silence fall around us.

  “Ah, I see. So, you can know my name but I cannot know yours.”

  Salem was annoyed, but I liked her better annoyed than afraid of me.

  “I don’t know yours. You just admitted you made yours up.”

  “It’s a real enough name. It’s the name I go by. What name do you go by?”

  “I don’t have a made up name to tell you.”

  “Ugh. You’re not cute,” she said in a huff.

  Salem breathed out a puff of air and lilacs blew over my senses again. I felt her move closer and face me. She measured the length of my hair on each side of my face with her fingers.

  “Pardon my straddling you now. It’s nothing funny. Just easier to get at your beard this way.”

  She kicked one leg over me and straddled my legs. I could feel the cloth of her skirt rest gently on my thighs, and the heat from her legs radiated against the outer skin of mine. Her face was dangerously close to mine as she nonchalantly snipped away at the mess of hair on my chin. It had been a long time since I was this close to a woman.

  “You got some mess going on here. Where were you before Palacides? Obviously it was somewhere without the benefit of scissors.”

  “I was rough necking out on the desert plains.”

  “That explains the dirt in your hair and maybe even why you wandered into a red district looking for a haircut.”

  “You should know. You followed me.”

  Salem started for a moment. She stood still and looked me over with scissors still in hand.

  “How did you know?”

  “You have a distinct smell.”

  “Not sure if that is a compliment or not.”

  “I didn’t say you had a distinct odor, did I?”

  “Good point,” she conceded as she began cutting on my beard again.

  “So, why were you following me?”

  “I saw that barrook of yours right off. That’s not common around here. Plus, you don’t move like a blind man. You move like a shadow, all quiet and purposeful. You sort of don’t blend in here. When I saw you making your way to my district, I had to follow to make sure nothing happened.”

  “What do you mean you had to make sur
e nothing happened?”

  “Look man, you are either Shadow Class or you took that thing off a Shadow Class soldier. I had to make sure you weren’t going to do anything stupid with it. I mean, how did I know you were really blind?”

  I smiled at her.

  “And what does a prostitute know about the Shadow Class?”

  I felt her stiffen and switch her scissors to her left hand. She used her right hand to slap me across the face. It stung more I had expected it to, and I was suddenly grateful she had moved the scissors before she struck me.

  “I’m not a whore!”

  She leaped up and away from me, and we both made a break for the barrook on the table fifteen paces away. Salem was faster than I gave her credit for, and we both laid hands on the weapon at the same time. She had the handle and I had the groove. However, this was my weapon, and within seconds, I had flipped it around on her. With only a few moves I had her pinned to the wall with my forearm and the barrook’s serrated edge was against her cheek. Salem gasped but did not scream.

  “Speak child. How do you know me?”

  “I don’t know you. I know your kind,” she said, a little too calmly. “I’m from Anson Batai. I know you don’t like to kill women.”

  Anson Batai. Yes, she would know the Shadow Class had she grown up there. This non-prostitute was smart. No one had uttered the words Anson Batai to me in years. I lowered my weapon and released her. She relaxed her stance but only a little.

  “All I wanted was a haircut. That is all,” I said a little breathless.

  “Alright, Shadow Man. It will cost you after all of this.”

  “I have money.”

  “I want more than money.”

  I waited for her demand. My hair still dripped on the sheet that was tied around my shoulders.

  “You are here for the Goliath, I presume?”

  “Why would you presume that?”

  “Why else would someone like you risk being noticed in a place like this? I see all sorts come through this city, and your kind have only been venturing here lately because of the Goliath.”

  “My kind?”

  “The kind that is looking for something. I don’t care what you are looking for. God? The Devil? A new species? I don’t really care, but I’d be willing to bet you have a ticket to go see the dragons.”

  She was a perceptive one.

  “And if I do?”

  “I want to get on board.”

  “I heard tickets have been sold out. I haven’t the money to pay a scalper to get one for you.”

  “I don’t expect that, but you could sneak me in.”

  I wondered suddenly how old she was. I had taken her for a woman initially, but the way she had said ‘sneak me in’ rang youthful to my ears.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Eighteen.”

  “Do you look eighteen?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Good. That might work then. I might be able to pass you off as my assistant. Much older and they wouldn’t buy that story.”

  The air felt a little lighter. She was happy.

  “Now, can we please continue with my rather expensive haircut?”

  “Sure,” she said as I replaced my barrook back on the table.

  We returned to our places by the chair, and Salem went back to cutting my hair. I would have to coach her a little before we left. She may be eighteen, but she held the air of an older woman. This was a symptom of young people who grew up too fast in one way or another. I knew that all too well, but she would have to hide it better if she were to pass as my assistant. They might let a blind man’s young assistant onboard without a pass, but never a woman that could be his wife. That would arouse too much suspicion, as to why he hadn’t bought her a ticket of her own.

  The fight seemed to have taken all of the electricity out of the air. Salem was no longer afraid, and I was no longer suspicious. The only suspense left between us was the normal human response to being so close to a being of the opposite sex. I was only ten years older than she was, and she still smelled so sweet. I couldn’t help but wonder what color her long hair was.

  “So, you are not a prostitute?”

  “Do you want me to slap you again, Shadow Man?”

  “Not particularly,” I said smiling.

  “No, I am no prostitute. My friends are, but I am not. I cut their hair and look out for them when I can.”

  “So, what do you do? I can’t imagine you get many well paying customers in this neighborhood looking for a simple haircut.”

  “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

  I shook my head but only slightly since she was trying to cut the hair around my ears. Salem leaned in closely with an air that made chill bumps rise on my left arm. Her mouth was so close to my ear I felt her tiny breath before I heard her words.

  “I’m a thief, of course.”

  Chapter Five

  It wasn’t long before we were following the other livestock as they were herded together near the dock on the outskirts of Palacides. The rank smell of humans and sweat permeated my nose and it was hard to detect anything else. Luckily, Salem stayed close by and her sweet fragrance made the whole affair bearable.

  We passed a group that were so tightly knit together Salem had to press against me to guide me away. I could hear scraping sounds and smelled freshly painted wood. There was light chanting and the noise of something swinging back and forth. I smelled smoke and frankincense.

  “Pilgrims,” said Salem softly in my ear.

  “What are they doing?”

  “They are kneeling every step or so and bowing to the ground. They are wearing large signs on their backs.”

  “What do the signs say?”

  “I don’t know. God stuff. One says God is among us. One says God is in the Stars or something like that. Some of the writing is small.”

  This made for a very slow progression indeed. We had all gotten in line to be processed and allowed passage onto the ship, and these pilgrims were holding up the works. With every step, they had to kneel, place their hands on the ground and bow. It was all about the difficulty of the journey and the sacrifices they made to be able to meet their God. That was what mattered to them. The rest of us just wanted on that damn ship and out of the sun.

  There was a sudden breeze that passed me and with it, came a different scent. Not a good one or a bad one really. It smelled like a hospital might smell if it didn’t have people in it. The air had definitely taken on a disinfectant quality all of the sudden. It smelled almost empty and sterile.

  “Ugh! Will you look at that! It will take forever to board now. I hate these religious types. You always find them here too. Every back water planet had a herd of them,” said a steely voice behind me.

  The voice was decidedly male and the tone was sharp. I could almost taste his disdain for the pilgrims in the air. Tensions reverberated from this man. This could be useful. I leaned closer to Salem.

  “Follow my lead,” I whispered.

  She nodded. I knew because I felt her hair sway back and forth on my shoulder.

  “Those damn pilgrims have been at it all day,” I muttered back to him. “We’ve been waiting here for hours just to have them move a few feet. I hear the military is just letting them get away with this nonsense too. Like they have all the right.”

  “Are you kidding? You’ve been here like this for hours?”

  “Yes, sir. Been driving me nuts, and I can’t even see the spectacle.”

  “That’s just appalling! If they want so badly to suffer, let them be the last in line. I’ve been waiting my whole career to study something like this, and I have to wait for superstitions?”

  “Well, I suppose you could discuss it with the man in charge, but I didn’t have any luck.”

  “Really? He wouldn’t even let a blind man in before these imbeciles? Which man was it? I’d like to have a word.”

  Salem leaned in closer.

  “Metal Head at two o’cl
ock,” she whispered.

  “Well, there was a soldier standing roughly over there,” I said as gestured in the direction she had told me. “Military fellow. At least, I think he was. For me, it’s always a guess,” I said and hung my head like the shame of my blindness was just too much sometimes.

  Salem tensed, stifling a laugh.

  “I see him,” said the scientist as he walked away from us and toward the Metal Head in question.

  His steps were light and rigid as though he were made of bamboo. I could hear his voice piece the air as he began telling off the soldier. The sound of heavy legs shifting from side to side under a hot uniform told me the Metal Head was uncomfortable.

  “And furthermore, you should let these zealots appease their sense of sacrifice by making them enter last. I have very important business aboard this ship.”

  “Sir, I was told it is first come first serve.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Do you know who I am? Do you have any idea who is funding this ship?”

  “No one cares who you are!” yelled one of the pilgrims in front of us. “Get back in line.”

  “Excuse me, sir! I am Doctor Richard Mellar, and I am the lead investigator of new life forms in this galaxy. You’ll do well to understand who you are speaking to.”

  “Blow it out your ass!” shouted another voice.

  “You all are truly nothing but a bunch of backwoods, superstitious troglodytes!”

  There was a sudden uproar as the pilgrims all began shouting at once. The important thing was they also moved to better surround him, thus opening a clear pathway to the front of the line.

  “All clear now?”

  “Yes,” whispered Salem. “That was masterful. I hope they don’t kill him.”

  “They won’t. They’re people of God.”

  The shouting raged on as Salem led me past it all and toward the check in desk.

  “Act more feeble,” she hissed at me.

  “What?”

  “You don’t walk like a man who needs my help.”

  “Oh.”

  I tried to remember how it was when I was first blinded. Mimicking that sense of being lost was almost impossible, but I managed to stumble over a few stones and turn my head so I looked like I was gazing into the distance. I physically slowed my reaction time to everything I heard and opened my mouth to breathe in ragged breaths.