Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) (55 page)

raped in the Oaf’s lap, her cheek lay against his chest; a trickle of sleep-drool ran over his stomach. Thick metal fingers stroked her hair, and in an awkward sort of way, she felt protected. Whisk ambled over, still keeping a nervous distance from the giant. Stiffness told her she had been sleeping.

“Hey now. Imma go see ‘bout findin’ Flatline. Wot wit you fixin’ him up and all, he dun wen’ back to his ol’ life. Hope he don’t get the Coreburn again.” He shook his head, tossing little dark things out of his hair. “Nevermindin’ that. May take me a little bit to find ‘im.”

Althea got up and hugged him, stink and all. “Thank you.”

After a nod, he trundled off and up the ladder. Two of the other homeless men approached; one with a cut on his hand. His friend looked her up and down while she mended it.

“Hey, kid. You wana help us get some food?”

She looked up at him. “How?”

“You got the big three for begging.”

“What?” She squinted into the sun as she looked up at them.

“Well. One, yer a little kid. That gets a lot ‘o sympathy. Two, yer covered in dirt. Three, yer a girl. People can’t resist dem big blues. Oh yeah, and four, you look starved… like a actual street kid.”

“Billy, she
is
a street kid.” The other man whacked him on the back of the head.

“This sounds like something bad.” She folded her arms.

“Here’s the plan. There’s a bunch o’ food joints round here. Some of ‘em let us have their overstock, but not till they close. We go to a place wit you, I tell ‘em your my kid and we need food. They take one look at you and feel guilty and all. We get food. We go outside, stash it with Charlie here, and go to another place.” He clapped once. “Bingo, we swim in food!”

She turned. “That’s dishonest.”

“Oh, we ain’t gonna keep t’all. It’s fer everyone.” He waved his arm at the wallow.

“All right.” She sighed. “But what about my eyes? Those people are looking for me.”

“You iz genius.” Billy leaned back and howled at the sky.

He ran off and dove headfirst into his pile of junk. A minute later, he returned and stuck a pair of too-large sunglasses on her head and handed her a white curtain rod.

“There. I’ll tell ‘em youz blind. Keep ‘em closed and tap that stick on the ground like yer usin’ it to find your way along. Blind, starvin’ little street kid.” His eyes watered with emotion as he grabbed his own shirt into fists. “Oh, Charles, we’re gonna eat!”

For a few hours, they went from restaurant to restaurant. More often than not, they would get a little food, which went into a sack that Charlie, waiting outside, carried. She did not do much but stand there looking sad, not difficult―she
was
sad. Althea found the wait for Whisk to come back with news of Beard painful, but at least she could do something to help these men before she left.

They returned heroes. Given first pick of the loot, she took the most familiar thing, a burrito, and some cheeseburgers for the big guy. She stalled on the first bite, bewildered at who would put scrambled eggs inside a burrito. After the initial shock wore off, she ate it anyway. Fresh food was a lot better than what she had been eating.

The oaf followed her close around the wallow while she made her way among its occupants. Althea went from container to container, healing little hurts and chasing away a sick or two. One of the bums commented he acted like a big German shepherd walking on two legs. From then on, Althea decided to call him Shepherd. He did not seem to mind.

A woman’s voice screamed in the distance, followed by the angry bellow of a man. The next scream carried pain through the air. Althea ran to the ladder and went up to the street, toward the sound of the shouting. She did not notice the frustrated moan from Shepherd, too big for the shrouded ladder.

From the corner of an alley, she peered at a man in a suit made of light that changed in a gradual sway from green to blue and through orange to red then back to green. Glowing neon pink teeth sneered from a dark-skinned face set off by a glimmering purple visor. He slapped at a pale young woman with powder-blue hair. Two black discs adhered to her breasts only big enough to cover the dark spots. Her skirt was barely at the point where it was too wide to be called a belt, and her iridescent pink high heels were, in Althea’s mind, something the woman had been forced to wear so she could not run away from her owner.

He swatted something out of her hand, a small fluttery thing that meandered to the ground and vanished amid the trash. The woman snatched at it desperately on its way down, begging him to let her have it, but he dragged her off by the arm. A trickle of blood ran from her nose.

Althea followed; intent on freeing the woman from slavery. If she could stall a monster like the man in white in his tracks, she could deal with this glowing fool. Something stuck to the bottom of her foot, and she hopped to a halt, lifting and twisting her foot over so she could see what was there. A rubbery square of skin-colored material, an inch on all sides with rounded corners and a raised bit in the center, clung to her sole.

She wiped at it, but it did not move. The woman was more important than an annoying thing stuck to her foot. When she took another step, she stared down at the bizarre tingle that scintillated up through her leg. The light changed. The painted words and faces on the walls moved. Giant yellow spheres with smiling mouths sang at her, things she remembered from her early childhood, songs meant to put little children to bed.

The alley in both directions twisted into a haze as shadows grew and colors changed. The sky turned yellow; she blinked and it went green. The buildings swayed like giant blades of grass. Painted rainbows slid along the walls and flowers burst from the vacant black squares of broken windows.

The tiniest voice she had ever heard came from her right. “We’re coming to save you.”

A miniscule woman with an orb of white hair and dragonfly wings flew up to her face. She was six inches tall and poked her in the nose with a tiny electrical spark.

The pixie giggled and waved. “Don’t worry, little moggie, we’re coming.” She zoomed away, leaving a trail of white glowing dust.

“Hey, how ya doin?” A gruff man’s voice came from below. The source, a fat grey tabby cat, yawned at her and trundled off.

She grinned. Reaching to pet it, she gawked as her hand fell to the street with a splat, on the end of the noodle that used to be her arm. Her fingers flowed off like rivulets of flesh from the point of impact. The hilarity of it caught her off guard, and she laughed.

The metal road surface came up to her chest. She swam in it, paddling at the cool, silvery liquid that carried away all her sadness as the little painted stick men from the walls told her she would be with her family again soon. An army of white cartoon doves came over the walls, surrounding her with a bright bird-song and a flash of flapping wings.

Something hit her leg. She looked up to see the blue-haired girl fall over and vanish with a splash into the silver. Laughter came without thought, and she cooed and giggled at the woman swimming around in circles.

“Where is it? Where is it?” The woman raced about, scratching at the ground.

The man with the glowing pink teeth came stomping after her, but stalled at the sight of Althea. As he bent forward, his face detached and drooped to his belt; the dead bird on the side of his hat flapped its one remaining wing and squawked. She grabbed a big toe in each hand and pulled, rocking back and laughing at him. When they stretched out, she stopped laughing and stared at her feet as if they were the deepest mystery of the universe. One by one, she pulled the rest of her toes out until they were all the same length.

“Yo, I think this little skank here pinched your Zoomer.”

Althea had her foot up to her face, sniffing at the wavering noodles.

“You little whore,” said the woman, poised to tackle her.

“Whoa.” The man put a hand up to the side of his head. “You feel that?”

“Yeah… It’s… It’s…” The woman, now a female canid with sky-blue fur, fell on top of her and licked the side of her head. The tongue slid over her scalp twice more before the creature fell onto her back; her now-juvenile voice cooed into giggles. “She tastes like Zooooom.”

With a grin, Althea leaned forward and pet the dog-woman on the belly, making her laugh.

“Yo. I ain’t never touched this fuckin’ shit; why am I high?” The man stumbled to the side, his flapping arms sprouted bright purple feathers.

Althea grinned at the man as he failed to fly, wondering where the blue dog woman went and why she was petting a fish.

“You’re not a bird.” She pointed, yelling with the accusatory tone of a triumphant seven-year-old.

“No, Ah ain’t. And who the hell you is?” He took a fistful of her shirt and held her up to eye level. “You got a lot o’ nerve freelancin’ in my yard.”

Althea stared down at the noodles waving out from under her skirt. They were legs once. The sight made her laugh again.

“Neebo, she’s just a little kid.” The blue-haired fish did a backflip out of the glimmering silver, and fell back out of sight. “She ain’t workin.”

The pink teeth parted; she imagined flying through them and into a swirl of bright colors.

Neebo’s face stretched wider and taller. “I know some dudes that would pay for this.”

“That’s sick,” said the fish.

Althea tilted her head at the flashing lights in front of her and bit her lip while trying to make sense of the fluttering mass of face. With a sudden burst of inspiration, she jammed her finger into one of the whistling openings. He let go of her and howled. The fall went by in slow motion, her jelly legs did nothing to support her, and she splashed into the metal water. She rolled onto her chest and tried to swim towards the blue-haired fish, which floated upside down making bubble-pop sounds with its mouth.

“She just tried to pick mah damn nose.” Neebo sneezed and snorted. “Damn she’s fucked up. Gotta be a first trip.”

The water lost its fluidity; stinging seeped into her hands from slapping the hard ground. Amid the chorus of singing graffiti, one sharp nibble of hurt crawled up her arm and into her brain. She knew something was wrong, but not what. An army of battered rag dolls crawled out from under an old dumpster and swarmed over her, giggling, chattering, and tickling her. Althea squealed with laughter and rolled onto her back, staring up at giant bees dancing in the blue-violet smog far above. The wagon man had smoked something once and the cage had kept her basking in it. He had given her a doll he’d found that looked exactly like the forty crawling over her. She remembered how weird it made her feel.

At that moment, she knew she had been poisoned.

Her hands flew to her eyes and she tuned out the silly things that played and sang, ignored the fish, and peered inward at her life essence. Wispy strands of something orange drifted within her like kelp snagged on a branch. Anchored to the sole of her foot, they reached up her leg toward her brain. Althea wanted it out, and it was gone. Her head throbbed, her eyeballs ached, and every muscle she was aware of felt like mush.

After a minute or three of lying motionless in pain, she sat up and pulled her foot into her lap. Althea splayed her toes apart and picked at the little square until it peeled away, revealing a tiny pad covered with hexagonal threads of metal embedded within the raised part, soaked with a foul-scented liquid.

She tossed it aside and used a piece of trash cloth to wipe the wet spot away. The woman lay on the ground nearby, blowing spit bubbles like the fish had been. Althea dragged herself closer. The older girl’s right eye was blackened, blood dribbled from her nose, and a number of bruises decorated her forearms. The absence of the hallucinatory high shared upon the wings of Althea’s telempathy caused the woman to groan. Althea held her hand and concentrated, mending a lot of small hurts.

“Come on, kid, your fine ass works for me now.” Pink Teeth grabbed her shoulder. “Get you cleaned up, some food, place to live, you’ll be doin’ good for yourself.”

Althea glanced up at him from where she knelt. “No.”

“Damn, girl, you’re some kind of pretty. Bet you won’t even need much work done.”

Neebo reached for her. Althea cringed and raised her arms to protect her face. Rather than hit her, he grabbed her wrist.

“No. Go away.” She sensed his emotion and his thoughts about the nature of what he wanted her to do for him. Her blasé tone became angry. “
Now
.”

Her eyes flared bright for as long as it took her to speak the word. Neebo blinked, bewildered, and shook his head. “Yo, Haggis, Little E, need yo’ asses pronto…”

“Yo.” yelled a deep voice from a nearby alley. “On the―what the fuck is thaaaa.”

A loud s
quish
preceded the sound of splattering. Someone’s internal bits bounced into view.

“Shit!” screamed a high-pitched male voice.

Two gunshots rang out; flashes of azure lit the alley, projecting nanosecond shadows of a massive claw-handed silhouette looming over a smaller man. A horrible scream of terror changed to one of agony before it cut to silence.

“No!” screamed Althea, struggling to run towards the death she felt in the air.