by Amy Cook
“Don’t you feel sorry for him. He was a Cut, one of the sickest, most depraved scum, short of Rabids. Y’all ain’t the first victim they’ve found in the dark, and I ain’t around to save ‘em all. One less like him on the street is one less idiot killin’ innocents, and makin’ my job harder.” She swallowed, nodding but not meeting his eyes. He sighed, crouching in front of her.
“Are you outta your ever lovin’ mind? Don’t ya realize the danger to a woman, out here alone? Especially at night?” She shrugged uncomfortably.
“I thought…we had strict curfew back home, and the Rabids never came into the city. I thought, since you don’t have street curfew here, that it must be safer,” she finished lamely.
“Fine. Let’s say the Rabes chose to have manners and steer clear of the main population. What about the lowlifes of the city?”
“I never had to worry about that before,” she whispered, biting her lip against the burn of humiliation she could feel stinging her eyes. He stared at her for a long moment, and she wasn’t sure if he was trying to gauge her sanity, or sincerity on the matter. When her expression made it clear she really hadn’t been aware of the full implication of danger, he ran a hand over his face, lips moving in another silent prayer for patience.
“You hurt?” he asked gruffly. She blinked, giving herself a once over when his words finally sunk in. Aside from soreness, missing patches of hair, bruises, and emotional trauma, she was fine. Her leathers had saved her from most of the scrapes and damage. Her head and neck had the worst of it, being hauled around by her hair and on a low supply of oxygen. She shook her head, and he nodded approval. Climbing to his feet, he offered a hand. She stared hard at it for a long moment, before placing her own in it. It engulfed hers, warm to the touch, and surprisingly soft. Unprepared to be yanked to her feet, she stumbled against him. This close, she could finally see his eyes more clearly. Their depths were like the deepest arctic blues of icebergs, the kind she’d seen in pictures. They were cold, piercing, and they made her breathless. His brow furrowed and she quickly pulled away, brushing away the dirt on her clothes in an effort to hide her girlishly flustered embarrassment.
“You’re either naive and sheltered, or just plain crazy.” She grabbed a lock of hair at her back, twisting it. He was right, on all accounts.
“I’ve heard that one before,” she admitted dejectedly. He grunted quietly, voice taking on a gentler tone.
“Look, kid. This ain’t Pleasantville or wherever it is y’all came from, alright? The lack of street curfew comes from the fact that the city has run bankrupt on cops willin’ to patrol the place and the soldiers are busy in the Vasts and everywhere else. Dallas is too big, too overrun. Cops just added more bodies for the Rabids. And around here Rabids don’t just stay in the outskirts, they come into the city. So do the Cuts. Smart people stay barricaded in their homes at night. Aside from you, the ones lurkin’ ‘round in the dark don’t got no other choice, or they ain’t up to no good.”
“What about you? You’re out here. Do you not have a choice, or are you one of the lurkers up to no good?” she pointed out, trying to steer away from that truth behind his statements. Back home, the thugs hadn’t been afraid of the city, but they had been terrified of her mother. Malinda was basically the female version of the Godfather back home, and no one dared to mess with her or anyone connected to her. Her mother’s shadow may have ruined her life plenty of times, but it had always been a shield against those who would have hurt her. A shield Amiel had been yielding without realizing it, apparently. She hadn’t even thought about the dangers of other humans tonight. The man gave her a wry glance.
“I’m a different story, kid. Been trained and equipped to beat the crap outta idiots and Rabids alike. Whereas you are apparently equipped to be their rug.”
“I’m stronger than you think I am,” she declared defiantly, which in the current situation was rather laughable. Yet she felt the need to defend herself.
“Yeah, I think y’all proved that one rather well tonight,” he replied mockingly, though his voice lacked its previous severity. “You’re lucky they were just common Cuts and not Rabids.”
“I’m not worried about Rabids,” she grumbled. “It’s the regular guys I can’t handle.” His brows rose.
“Is that so. Well, just so ya know, you should be worried about everyone. Because honestly, y’all fight like crap.” He crossed his arms with a smug smirk.
“Yeah, I got that, thanks,” she agreed glumly. An idea suddenly surging to the front of her mind. Now was her chance to ask someone to train her. “Maybe…you would be willing to train me?”
“Excuse me?” He sat back on his heels regarding her as though she were a dangerous snake. The smug grin on his face melted away as though it had never been. Guarded, tough as nails Aviator Guy was back.
“I fight like crap. You know it, I know it. But you can obviously kick butt. So, teach me how to defend myself, and then you won’t have to keep rescuing me.” She smiled sweetly, which only earned her a glare. She quickly changed her tactics. “I can pay you.” His glare darkened, strike two.
“Here’s a better idea. Stay inside at night like normal people, and stop puttin’ yourself in these situations. Problem solved.”
“Well, I’m one of those people without a choice. I have to work, and my job requires that I am out at night. Therefore, that’s not really an option for me,” she replied in frustration.
“So get a different job.”
“Are you kidding? I was lucky to get this one! Took me nearly a month to find it, too. Unless of course you are going to put in a good word for me with your boss. You did mention having a job earlier, didn’t you?” He laughed humorlessly at her statement.
“Not gonna happen.”
“Why not, don’t think I could handle it?” She may have put a bit more flirt into that statement than she should have, considering the circumstances and the fact that she really had no idea who this guy was.
“Y’all don’t want nothin’ to do with my job.”
“What are you, the boogey man?” Strike three- her joke sucked. His eyes darkened, and he moved so close his shaggy bangs tickled her brow. She swallowed hard, staring up into his dangerously arctic eyes, drowning in the darkness reflected behind them.
“Yeah. Somethin’ like that.” The deep reverberation of black truth in his voice made her knees weak, and she was grateful when he stepped back, giving her space. He casually strode toward her bike, looking down at it in abstract interest. “Let’s move on to more important matters, shall we? Motorcycles are made for ridin’, not pushin’.”She ducked her head, embarrassed to admit the truth.
“Someone siphoned my gas. Again.” He shook his head, regarding her like an errant teenager.
“Y’all gotta take better care of your bike. You take care of it, it’ll take care of you. It’s dangerous out here, kid. Get that in your head. If I hadn’t come along when I did…” He left it hanging in the air, and she didn’t have to hear the rest of his sentence to know exactly what would have happened. In fact it was something she refused to think about until she got home, where it was safe to fall apart for a while.
He walked away abruptly, and she wondered if he was leaving her, just like that. She had no right to ask him for more than he’d already done of course. But she’d hoped he’d offer all the same. He was just as much a stranger to her as anyone else, and it was probably foolish to feel the way she did in his presence, but it seemed unavoidable. It was likely just some sort of syndrome, the kind a girl gets when a guy rescues her from a dangerous situation and she drools all over herself from then on. He made her breathless, he made her irritated, he made her feel safe. He disappeared down an alleyway, and Amiel’s heart fell. Pushing against unwelcome tears, she bent and grunted under the weight of her bike, pulling it to stand. She wished she could examine it for more ‘battle scars’, but that would have to wait until she was safe.
“Put this under your bike.” Aviator Gu
ys voice floated back to her like a welcome breeze on a hot summer’s day. She turned toward him, unable to contain the bright smile of joy at his reappearance. He paused, seemingly caught off guard by it, before continuing forward with a frown. He must have stowed his motorcycle in that alley before coming to rescue her, because he was pushing it alongside him now.
He handed her a flat round metal device that looked small in his hand, but covered her own. His brow rose and she scrambled to remember what he’d just told her to do. She kicked the stand on the bike and slid the object underneath, waiting for further instruction.
“Like this?” He nodded and motioned her to follow as he walked away. She did so hesitantly, wondering what the plan here was. When they were ten feet away, he pulled out a keychain fob and pressed a button on it. She stared, wondering what the heck he was doing. He smiled proudly, nodding toward her bike. She saw nothing, absolutely nothing. Sighing he bent to pick up a rock and chucked it at her bike. Amiel gasped as the rock bounced off an invisible energy field around the bike, sending the superheated rock flying into a car window nearby.
“A mini bug zapper for my bike!” she exclaimed, recalling Tandy’s description of the electric fields. She didn’t know they made them for bikes, too. Aviator Guy looked at her with an unreadable expression before nodding.
“No one’ll bother it while we get ya some gas.” He tossed a thick leg over the seat of his bike, fiddling with the controls.
“We?” she asked hesitantly.
“I sure as heck ain’t leavin’ y’all out here by yourself. We’ve already seen how that worked out.”
“Why do you care anyways?” she asked cautiously. He smoothed a hand over the back of his neck.
“Good question,” he mumbled to himself. She watched distractedly as his jacket stretched tight over his broad back, her errant mind wondering what his muscles must look like beneath that leather. She jerked her eyes away as he turned back to her.
“Are ya coming or not? Unless y’all intended to walk it all the way there. And here’s a hint. Don’t do that. I have a lot to do tonight, and those plans don’t include followin’ ya home on foot. Besides, you’re gonna fall apart soon.” His eyes drifted down to her hands, which had begun to shake in the aftermath of her adrenaline fueled night. When his eyes rose to meet hers again, she knew he wasn’t judging her, simply stating a fact.
“So, what’s it gonna be.” His eyes held that infuriating challenge in them, just as they had earlier that night. Only this time, the challenge lay in pressing her body up against his for the next fifteen minutes. Amiel stared at the bike for a long moment, eyes settled firmly on the small area behind him. His bike clearly wasn’t meant for two, which meant she’d be plastered to his back the whole way. Giving herself another mental pep talk, she approached the bike, trying to think of the best way to climb on without touching him. Considering how huge the thing was, that was going to be impossible. Placing a timid hand on his bicep and the other on his far shoulder, she used his body to steady hers as she climbed up behind him. Releasing a shaky breath she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. She tried not to notice the way her thighs brushed against his, or the way his stomach muscles bunched beneath her palms. And she definitely tried to ignore the way each breath he took pressed his back against her chest, or the instant satisfaction of the tantalizing scent of his jacket that was infuriatingly familiar, but couldn’t quite place her finger on. It all amounted to a far too intimate and awkward situation. Aviator Guy cleared his throat, the vibrations echoing through her body in shivers.
“Ready?” he muttered. She nodded against his back.
“Uh, yeah, I’m good.” Putting his glasses back on, he flew down the road at a speed that had her gripping him tighter. Ten minutes later they pulled into a gas station, and she clumsily peeled herself away from his back and hopped to the ground. He walked up to the barred window of the store, sliding money through the slot and speaking through the small intercom. A few moments later the store keep opened the little exchange door and Aviator Guy extracted a red jug for her gas. She covertly watched his confident strides, the way he seemed completely comfortable in the darkness. First he filled the little jug, then he turned to the task of filling his own tank. Leaning casually against the pump, legs crossed at the ankles as he waited, he looked completely at ease. But somehow she could feel the tension radiating off of him as he looked out into the inky surroundings. Aviator Guy didn’t strike her as the kind of man to ever let his guard down.
Despite not being able to see his eyes through the sun glasses, her skin prickled each time she felt his vision skate across her, or occasionally linger. Rubbing her arms against the brisk early morning air, she searched for something to say in order to fill the awkward silence. The light breeze sent a tendril of hair brushing across her cheek, and she set about braiding the rebellious strands. The ride over had knotted it into a mess, and she knew it would be twice as bad if she didn’t do something to keep it still. Her skin tingled as his gaze fell on her, only this time it didn’t leave. She bit her lip, turning her full attention to the braiding process.
“Don’t you wear a helmet?” Her words seemed to echo in the quiet air.
“Nope.”
“Why not?” He shrugged, pulling the gas nozzle out of the tank, bending over to put it back in its holder.
“Oh. Okay…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “What’s your name anyways. I can’t keep calling you Aviator Guy in my head.”
“Aviator Guy?”
“Yeah, you know. For the glasses.” He smirked at her like she was a complete dweeb, and she flushed with awkward embarrassment. “Who wears glasses at night, anyways? You’ve got to be practically blind in them,” she retorted defensively. He moved to his bike, placing the gas jug in one of his side bags, before turning to her. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached up to pull the glasses off. She flinched back slightly as he raised them toward her face.
“They’re just sunglasses, kid. They ain’t gonna bite.” She smiled self-consciously as he slid them up her nose. As soon as the lenses were in place, the world turned into shadows and lines of color. The world around her was broken down to minimalistic views. One would think this would limit your vision, but surprisingly it enhanced and clarified everything. She could see every line of every building in blue, vehicles in pale yellows. She looked toward the store and could see the vague white outline of the clerk behind the bars. Her eyes shifted back to Aviator Guy, and her lips parted in wonder. Every detail of his features were etched in striking contrasts of color, as though an artist had rendered his face on black paper with brilliantly colored ink. Pale red held majority in the coloring, but there were hints of pale greens and whites as well. The green stood in line right next to the red, so close it was almost hard to tell where they separated.
The biggest difference between the two was that the green was a much dimmer color. It was faded to the point of the barest of hints, the kind that could only be seen from the corner of your eye, and disappeared when looked at directly. Upon closer inspection, the white could be seen spiraling up the lengths of red and green both, clasping them together. In awe, she lifted a hand to run a finger along the lines in his nose and jaw. He went stiff beneath her touch, but she was swiftly distracted by the sight of her own hand. Her dominant color was deepest depths of green, the lines etching out each of her fingers as she moved them, opening and closing her fist. Instead of the other line being red, it was white, fading when directly looked at. The spirals were a glossy ebony, and they encased each of her lines separately. She moved to look at other objects, stared in awe at the way all of the colors of the world contrasted and mixed. It was breathtaking.
“These are amazing!” The lines organizing his face deepened as he offered a smile.
“Still think I’m blind at night?” She shook her head enthusiastically.
“Where can I get a pair?” His soft chuckle sent a shiver through her, and she enjoyed
the way it made his smile soften.
“Sorry, darlin’, they don’t sell these at the Gap.” Darlin. Not ‘kid’? Maybe she’d moved up in his world.
“What makes you think I shop at the Gap?” she asked, trying to draw the presence of his genuine smile out for as long as she could. It was a rare sight, and hard not to bask its warmth. “Alright, so maybe I occasionally shopped there in the past,” she relented, stepping a little closer. She was about to ask what the different colors in the lenses signified, when she saw movement to her right, far down the street. Turning her head, she blinked and waited. She could have sworn…
“What is it? What did you see?” Aviator Guy’s easygoing tone was gone, turning hard and cold once more.
“I thought I saw a bunch of red…” She jumped slightly as he snatched the glasses from her nose. With them back on his face, he searched the dark. She gasped when he suddenly turned, grabbed the lapels of her jacket and zipped it all the way up. If it didn’t feel like they were in danger at the moment, she would have enjoyed the action a lot more. He tugged her to the bike, tossing her on.
“Time to get you home, Thumbelina. Past your bed time.” She gave a little squeak and held onto him for dear life as he flew down the street at a breakneck speed, away from the red whatever it was that had freaked him out; down the street, and away from her bike.
“My bike!” she shouted over the wind, but if he heard he ignored her. She tucked her face against his back in an effort to block most of the cutting wind, allowing herself the guilty pleasure of drawing in more of his warm scent. When they careened to a stop, she was confused to find herself at the gates of her apartment building. He jumped off, before plopping her on her feet.
“Get inside, kid. It ain’t safe out here alone. Your bike’ll be here in the mornin’.” Back to kid, she thought glumly. He climbed back on his bike, but she grabbed his arm.