by J. L. Smith
“If you’re quite done,” she muttered, low enough so that no one else could hear, “maybe you could be of some use and help us get ready to go.”
I flushed in anger, “There’s nothing else to do right now.”
“Right,” Saffron said sarcastically. “So, I guess that explains why you decided to stare down your crush instead.” She smiled, seeming to know she had hit a mark. Was I that obvious? “If you think after your little bonfire chat that he’s into you…” she trailed off, leaving me wondering what she was going to say.
I was about to ask if she always eavesdropped, when Rayder touched my arm – nothing intimate, rather simply a means to get my attention. His eyes flicked between Saffron and me and I could tell that he knew we had had words.
“Ready to go?” he asked, directing his question at me.
“Yeah,” I replied, not meeting his gaze.
If Saffron could see through me where Rayder was concerned, I could only imagine what he thought. I felt my face reddening. Not for the first time, I cursed my own naivety.
“Do you need help getting Jim on your bike, Saff?” he asked, his eyes lingering on my face before looking at Saffron, as if trying to figure something out.
“I’ve got it,” she responded confidently.
Rayder nodded and left for his bike, with me following behind, all the while trying desperately to look at anything, but him. Even as I climbed behind him on the motorcycle, I was aware that Saffron might be watching us, my hands never once making contact with him. Any sense of comfort between us vanished and I knew he felt it too. If you think after your little bonfire chat that he’s into you. Saffron’s words echoed in my head. I supposed I had hoped that he might feel something more for me, but that hope had died with Saffron’s words. Again, I wondered what was between them. I knew it could not be anything official, otherwise I would have heard about it from Susie and Stef. But, perhaps they wanted to keep whatever was between them clandestine. It would certainly suit Rayder’s style. In all likelihood, I had misinterpreted any signs of flirtation the night before. I shook my head slightly, annoyed with myself for being so foolish.
“Something wrong?” Rayder was looking at me intently through his goggles.
My heart seemed to skip a beat, as I realized that he may have been looking at me for some time. “Just this stupid helmet,” I replied quickly, yanking on its strap.
“Here,” he said, taking it from my hand. “You’ve got it too tight.” He loosened the strap, his face too close to mine and I looked away. “Better?” he asked, as he clicked the strap into place on my chin, his voice soft through his respirator.
“Yeah, thanks.” Still I did not meet his gaze.
He turned away, positioning his fingers on the handlebars of the motorcycle. I breathed a sigh of relief, which was short-lived, as I saw Saffron glaring at me out of the corner of my eye. I ignored her, focusing instead on a strangely-shaped rock ahead. It was hardly riveting.
An eternity later, or so it seemed, we left, Saffron and Jim leading the pack, as we made our way towards his brother’s bar, apparently called Desire. I was not sure what to expect, but just over an hour later, the site which greeted me was certainly not at the forefront of my mind when I thought about a bar. We spotted Desire a long way off, her garish lights blinking in the early evening light, beside a village, perhaps a hundred houses strong. She was an old ship, easily three stories high, leaning slightly to one side in the sand. It seemed she had been sitting there for eons, making me all too aware of the timelessness of the desert. A once-cheery sign flashed Open, the red and white lights flickering tiredly through yet another night. The ship’s name, previously painted proudly across the hull, was peeling, encircled with a variety of flashing red and orange lights, which only served to make it all look a little sadder. The deck of the ship was deserted, but sounds came from within, the jeers and laughter of drunken men and women, the moan of a lonely piano.
We made a loose circle around the bar, before moving off to park at a distance, just outside the village. I was watching Saffron up ahead of us, preparing to come to a stop, when her wheels started skidding. She was losing control of her motorcycle, or so it seemed. I was confused for only an instant, before realizing that it was not Saffron, but rather Jim. Somehow, he must have untied himself, and was attacking her from behind, attempting to throw her off the bike. Rayder swore harshly before me, picking up the speed of his bike. My eyes were fixed on Saffron, as Jim’s right fist came down towards her shoulder, the glint of a knife evident. The bike weaved in response, as Saffron elbowed him, causing his head to jerk back violently. I found myself hoping she had broken his nose with the blow. Yet, Jim was not so easily tamed, connecting his knife with her forearm. We were so close now, I could make out where her jacket had been torn, where the sharp edge of the knife had sliced her skin, leaving a bloody trail. Jim attacked again, this time trying to stab Saffron in the side, and just missing, as her elbow struck his knife-wielding arm. Despite their battle, Saffron continued to ride at speed, determined not to give up her bike to our hostage. Rayder and I were now almost in line with them and, for the first time, I realized that Rayder was holding his gun, waiting for the right moment to fire at Jim. They kept veering about so, that it was not safe to take the shot, for fear of hurting Saffron.
Just as I thought Rayder was about to fire, Saffron’s injured arm swung back in an arch over her shoulder, the knife, which she had somehow freed from Jim’s clutches, securely lodged in her grasp. It must have connected with the base of Jim’s neck just below his helmet, for, in the next instant, he fell from the back of her motorcycle, hitting the desert floor and creating a pool of crimson blood to seep into the sand. Saffron immediately killed her bike, jumping down to finish Jim off, I suspected. But it seemed there was no need. As Rayder stopped our motorcycle beside hers, I saw that Jim was certainly dead, his eyes through his goggles staring vacantly at the darkening sky above. Saffron was panting loudly and she ripped off her helmet, respirator and googles, evidently desperate for air. She swore crudely, kicking sand at the dead man.
“What the hell happened?” Rayder asked, approaching Saffron, who looked wild, her eyes dark pools.
“He must have got hold of a knife when we untied him earlier,” Saffron replied angrily, as Rayder put his hands on her shoulders, holding her in place, as if to calm her. “I didn’t want to untie him. Now, he’s dead and how are we meant to get in?”
“Are you okay?” Rayder asked evenly, ignoring her question.
“Yeah.” Just then, the others joined us. Saffron glared at Stef, as she said, “Seems our friend got hold of a knife when we untied him. It must have been in his boots.”
“It’s hardly Stef’s fault,” Susie said, rising to her sister’s defense.
“Yeah?” Saffron challenged. “I didn’t want to untie him. He obviously cut through his ropes and nearly took my arm apart.” She held up her right arm, pulling up the tattered sleeve of her jacket to show us the bloody proof.
“That sucks,” Kieran said, “but, again, not Stef’s fault.”
“She was the one who suggested it!” Saffron replied angrily.
Rayder, who was still standing right before Saffron, was busy pulling off his respirator, googles and helmet as Saffron spoke. He took hold of her arm, looking it over and then spoke to her in a low voice, so that the rest of us could not hear what he said.
“I’m sorry, Saff,” Stef said quietly. “I didn’t think he would try something like this. Do you want me to look at your arm?”
“Don’t apologize,” Kieran said gruffly. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Still,” Stef said, “I’m sorry he attacked you, Saff.”
Saffron looked heatedly at us all, but I had the feeling that she did not really blame Stef. It was Jim who had her ire. Rayder spoke to her quietly, once again not allowing any of us to hear their conversation. Saffron’s face was defiant, but gradually, as he spoke, s
he started to relax. She nodded, while we stood uncomfortably nearby, intruders on their moment of intimacy.
Rayder turned, his eyes meeting Stef’s anxious face. “Stef, this isn’t your fault. Or anyone else’s. Saff’s arm is fine. Just needs a bandage.”
Stef nodded, “Can I look at it for you?”
Saffron nodded. “Thanks,” she muttered. “And sorry.”
Stef just shook her head, as if no apology were needed.
“Dramatic much?” Susie said underneath her breath, causing me to stifle a giggle. It had to be my heightened nerves. It was far from appropriate to laugh. I looked at Susie, who rolled her eyes, causing me to raise my eyebrows in response.
“So, what do we do with Jim?” Kieran asked, as Stef began to tend Saffron’s arm. It did not look serious, although it had to sting something fierce.
“Leave him,” Rayder responded harshly, giving Jim a dirty look.
I almost felt sorry for Jim. Almost. Certainly, he had tried to kill Saffron, but it was a rather undignified end – a bloody corpse lying out to freeze and bake in the desert. He was not the first.
“Pity,” Susie said wryly. “I kind of liked him.”
Rayder gave Susie a warning look and she responded by giving him an innocent smile. Fortunately, Saffron was too busy having her arm strapped by Stef to overhear us.
“How are we going to get in now?” I asked, suddenly remembering why we were there.
“Who the hell knows?” Kieran said irritably.
Neal, who was studying Jim carefully, spoke for the first time since the incident, “His armband.” I followed his gaze, taking in the black leather armband which Jim wore, in which a red gem twinkled. “I saw the same one on the man Rayder killed when we rescued Aria, when I went to siphon fuel.”
“You think it means something?” Rayder asked, running his hand through his long, sticky hair in agitation.
“I see no other obvious connection,” Neal responded, a trace of excitement in his voice, as he pushed up his glasses.
Rayder dropped to his knees beside Jim, oblivious to the blood which soaked the sand. He ripped out the knife which Saffron had used to kill Jim, causing me to flinch. Nonchalantly, he tossed it aside. “Anyone want that?”
“Dibs,” Kieran responded. “It’s decent.”
Rayder nodded, turning his attention to inspect Jim’s armband. “Looks new. With some red stone here.”
Neal bobbed his head slowly in affirmation, “No doubt for good luck.”
“Lucky me,” Rayder muttered, removing the armband from Jim’s wrist and placing it around his own.
“Somehow, I think Jim’s luck might be at a dead end!” Susie said, a laugh in her voice.
“What makes you say that?” I quipped, causing her to laugh and Rayder to give me a somewhat amused look.
“So, we just see if they let us in with that on?” Kieran asked, changing the subject, as he cleaned Jim’s knife in the sand.
“Yeah, why not?” Rayder replied.
“Can’t think of a reason,” Kieran said, grinning.
An hour later, we reached Desire. We had hurriedly covered Jim in sand, simply so as not to attract attention prematurely, before riding our bikes to a spot just outside the other side of the village, following which we went on foot to the ship. It seemed madness just to leave Jim so close to relative civilization, but, then again, everything else in the desert was madness anyway. Besides, no one would notice until the morning, in all likelihood, by which time we would have gone. Leaving our bikes a fair distance away, on the other hand, seemed slightly riskier, but Rayder was concerned they might be recognized by some of the runners. Each of us wore knitted hats, pulled down low, with our hair bunched beneath. Leather jacket collars were pulled up, to protect our necks from the cold, along with thick scarves made from wool and fur. The night was well on its way to below freezing, the wind whipping eerily through the sand. Saffron wore an oversized pair of sunglasses, in case Balen were to recognize her from her days at his fortress. While there was still a chance he would notice her, she had firmly refused to be left out. Given the dress code in the desert, nearly anything went, and so sunglasses at night would go entirely unnoticed.
The battered ship sat crookedly in the sand before us, the piano within still tinkling into the night air, but it was the line leading into the underground weapons depot which caught my eye. It seemed we were not to go into the bar, but rather straight into the black earth below, by way of a steep flight of stairs to the left of the ship. The queue of people waiting to be permitted entry was rough-looking – something I expected where Balen was concerned. There was a woman with a fiery phoenix tattoo covering her shaved head, her irises bright white, obviously from a pair of contact lenses. She stood beside a man with a nasty jagged scar on his cheek, adorned by a large silver barbell which had been pierced through his wound as some sort of perverse fashion statement. A beautiful blonde girl, barely my age, wearing nothing but a leather thong and crop top, was draped over a man at least double her size, his biceps easily the width of my waist. Everyone looked more than a little dangerous, littered in bold piercings and angry tattoos. There was even a young man with red horns surgically implanted into his forehand, glaring sullenly into the night, as he smoked a cigarette.
I shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold. Just then, I caught Rayder’s gaze and realized that he had seen my reaction. He raised his eyebrows, as if inquiring whether I wanted to go in. I nodded slightly and he gave the barest smile. He did not look in the least bit nervous. If anything, he almost looked excited. His eyes were strangely lit up in anticipation and, not for the first time, I thought I was more than a little out of my depth.
Chapter 9
We joined the queue, just like everyone else, and I found myself searching the wrists of those around us, looking for black leather armbands. Neal had been right – they were everywhere. It seemed to signify involvement with Balen somehow.
“Really looks like a lovely bunch of people here,” Susie said quietly, causing Kieran to snicker.
“Yeah,” he responded, “sort of reminds me of the neighborhood I grew up in.”
I gave him a curious gaze, which he ignored, turning instead to talk to Rayder in low tones.
“Kieran didn’t grow up in the nicest neighborhood,” Stef explained softly.
Susie snorted, “Understatement of the year. Their street was practically one long drug den!”
“What happened?” I asked quickly.
“Kieran ran away eventually,” Stef responded, glancing at him. “On his thirteenth birthday.”
“Yeah,” Susie said. “His mom died when he was a baby and his dad got into drugs pretty hard. Not using, just selling. Apparently, he wasn’t a bad guy. He just didn’t know how else to survive.”
I nodded, looking over at Kieran with fresh perspective. Everyone had a story.
“He must have been a good guy to raise Kieran,” Stef replied, a sad smile on her face.
“And to sacrifice himself to be harvested,” Susie added.
“He what?” I responded, shocked into talking loudly.
“Shhh,” Susie chided.
“Sorry,” I replied. “But, are you serious?”
“I’m not really sure Kieran would want us talking about this,” Stef said, glancing nervously at him. Kieran was oblivious, talking intently to Rayder.
“It’s not like it’s a secret,” Susie said matter-of-factly. Turning back to me, she continued, “Kieran’s dad sacrificed himself in the organ trade in exchange for a fat payout for Kieran. He didn’t tell Kieran. Just left a note and a wad of cash, wishing Kieran a better life.”
“That’s so sad,” I said.
“Yeah,” Susie replied, “but a whole lot sadder when your uncle steals it all, anyway.” I looked at her in shock. “A real junkie, apparently. He took it and spent it all on drugs. Ended up getting shot for owing some drug lord money.”
&
nbsp; I was not even sure what to say. I could only shake my head and mutter, “Wow.”
“I know,” Stef said quietly.
Susie and I watched in silence as Stef made her way towards Kieran, taking his hand as he spoke to Rayder. Kieran looked at her briefly, a slight smile on his face, before turning back to Rayder. There was something pure about their love for each other. In our messy world, it was reassuring, a hope for a better future.
It seemed to take forever before we reached the front of the queue. I was becoming increasingly agitated as we edged forward, the crowd having thinned out entirely as runners slowly made their way underground.
“Do you think they’ll let us in if only Rayder has an armband?” I hissed at Susie, turning around only to find it was Saffron behind me, a look of cool disdain on her face.
“Scared?” she sneered, causing me to huff in irritation. Why did every word she spoke to me have to be threaded with contempt?
“Obviously!” I snapped, deciding honesty was the best policy, before I turned away to face the front of the queue once more.
Rayder must have heard me, for he pushed between Stef and Kieran to stand beside me. “You cool?” he asked quietly.
I was sure he was not asking for my sake, but rather the sake of the mission. Scared people did stupid things. It was as simple as that.
“Yeah,” I muttered, lying too quickly. “Just wondering how we’re going to pull this off.”
“Watch us,” he replied confidently, although I saw a muscle in his jaw twitch.
We reached the front of the queue, where a beast of a man, his face covered in black ink, checked us roughly for weapons, before ushering us down a dark flight of stairs, leading, it seemed, into the bowels of the earth. I felt a little naked without a weapon, which was certainly a new feeling for me. I was sure the others did too. Rayder had insisted that we leave our weapons with our motorcycles and now I knew why. Although, I had a feeling that one or two of us might just have a secret stash. I could not imagine Rayder without a weapon, nor Saffron, for that matter.