somberly.
And so it was, an old ruined crane. After about twenty steps of muddy stomping, I caught sight of it: a single shaft of moonlight illuminating a large, rusty crane. Like a mechanical crane, the kind people used to move shit around with. I’d heard about this place, but never been there. I didn’t know a fucking thing about cranes, so it was pretty much impossible for me to guess when it had been built or how long it had been out there in the woods on Old Page. I had no idea why it was still there. Best guess? No one cared.
Near the crane, patches of fungus glowed softly. The whole area seemed much brighter than it should have been on a night this dark. We’d picked a dark night, after all, for the cover it provided while we were shopping cow pastures.
Cheney raced past us, and my blade snapped out with a hiss, sent him swerving wide to avoid its bite.
“Fuck!” he yelled. “Sorry! Sorry!” He hadn’t meant to brush me, I don’t think. He was just clumsy.
“Just gimme some fuckin’ space,” I said.
He stopped about six feet from the base of the crane, just at the edge of the light and went down on his knees, sitting on his calves, his booted feet sticking out in opposite directions, like a kid. He gawked up at the crane and whispered something.
I tightened my brow and looked over my shoulder to Danielle, who was hugging my waist, practically in my ass, all bounces and hot breath on me. She looked scared but excited, too. Her hair framed her face tightly, wispy and wavering a bit with each breath that clouded the air.
“You too, girl,” I said. “Shit. I hate tonight.”
Danielle was shivering.
I wasn’t cold. Dunno why. I was usually the first one cold.
I could hear Cheney speaking but could not make out the words. He rose and ambled toward the crane.
The light seemed to intensify, though only a bit.
Danielle gasped.
I shook my head, certain it was only our eyes adjusting to the dark, along with maybe a cloud or two parting in the sky allowing more light through. It didn’t have anything to do with Cheney’s gaslight show.
Chains reached the crane and hopped up on it. The old dinosaur creaked as he climbed. When he reached the top, he hung from it, playing as though he were hanging himself. “Time to meet the man.”
I pulled my blade back in. “What the fuck, Chains? Let’s go to fuckin’ Wendy’s, man.”
“No,” Danielle whispered in my ears. “I’m turned on, man.”
I said back to her, “Yeah, I know. That’s the idea. He knows you and Tij are crazy for this shit.”
She didn’t say anything, just kept pushing against me.
I sighed. “Fuckin’ fine.”
Cheney jumped down from the crane, which seemed far.
“Wait, shit!” I called out, but he’d already jumped.
He landed fine, turned his head toward me, grinning with those enormous equine teeth. He said, “Dwizaal is here and welcomes you.”
“Fuck, man, fuck!” Danielle said in my ear.
“Take it easy,” I said. “This is all bullshit.”
“Then why did you come out here with us?” she asked.
I hadn’t really thought about it. Because it was Saturday, and there was nothing else to do in this fucking place? Because everyone around here is obsessed with this kind of shit, and I wanted to see what it’s all about it?
Before I could answer her, Cheney bolted up to his tiptoes, his back arched like a drawn bow, his chin tipped all the way back, and then his body convulsed for several seconds.
Danielle seemed transfixed by what was happening.
Cheney came down to the flat of his feet, and his head rolled around on his neck. There’s something about the angles and the fluid motion of it that made my stomach hurt. “You gotta take ‘im in, kid. Salvation through damnation.” Chains put himself right next to me, close. “Drink in the fires and purify your soul,” he said. His voice sounded different. The demonic affectation was no good either, but better than the old man voice, I’d give him that.
I felt him firm against me then.
“Oh my fuckin’ god,” I said. “You’d best back the fuck up, or I’m gonna give you somethin’ to take in.”
I let my blade out once more, this time slowly, the hiss more deliberate and pronounced.
His face went slack and goofy again. “Relax. Just fuckin’ ‘round.”
“Yeah, well I’m done fuckin’ around. I’m goin’ to fuckin’ Wendy’s. You bitches comin’?”
Danielle relaxed against me. “Fuckin’ rad, man.”
I sighed again. “Whatever.”
7 | Wendy’s House
“Daddy, here we are.” Wendy made a little gesture. I stood up, straight as I could. My legs were weak. I had my hair gathered together in a neat bunch behind my head, and my shirt and jeans were clean.
Wendy’s dad didn’t look at us. He sat on the couch, gun on his hip, chewing something like cud, his eyes focused on the holo.
“See, Daddy …” Wendy tried again. “I told you. They’re nice.”
He let out something like a snort. Like he knew me. Like he knew my kind. My sort.
I tried to be nice, like Wendy wanted. But I knew his fucking kind. His sort. One of those stern motherfuckers out there on the orderly nets, cleaning up chems and corruption on the frontier worlds. Worlds like ours, the Jung. The Big Nasty.
“I ain got nuthin’ to say,” he said.
That made me laugh a little.
Wendy cut me with her eyes, like they’re saying, “I will kill you, motherfucker, if you ruin this for me.” But she didn’t say anything.
I went quiet, looked at my nails, painted glossy black.
Wendy nudged me.
“Sorry,” I said. I cleared my throat, put on my most respectable tone. “Uh, hello, sir. It’s nice to meet you.” I extended my hand, even though I was in the foyer, and he’s over on the fucking couch.
He looked down at his pistol, then in my direction, but not right at me. Then back to the holo.
“C’mon, Daddy,” Wendy said. “Be nice to them. I really like this one.”
His eyes swished around in that stern-ass skull, like there’s something trying to happen that just can’t.
