Merc's Revenge

I woke up to bright sunlight and a raucous laugh. He was awake, talking to someone outside his door.

“No shit,” he said. “NO SHIT! Well good luck with that!” and then he laughed again. He was wearing black pants with the same suspenders, black boots. His shirt was missing and I saw further tattooing and scarring on his shoulders. Nothing disfiguring, just a sign of having been through some serious shit. A hand reached out handing him a fistful of money. Money. I hadn’t seen it in months.

He shut the door and turned around, still half laughing, lighting a cigarette.

“Hey girlie, how you feeling?”

“I haven’t moved yet, I don’t know.”

This was hilarious.

“You’re pretty brave, aren’t you? Living in this hell hole during a reconstruction, all by yourself, barely dressed. What are you? Twenty? Twenty one? I’m amazed you’re not on a slave ship somewhere.”

“They couldn’t take me,” I said, a little MORE brave than I actually was.

“I’m sure.” He cracked his neck to the side and went rummaging around for a green bottle that he took two heavy swigs out of before recapping.

“I couldn’t get off this planet anyway, don’t have a ship, no family anywhere, no skills.”

“You have skills. You just don’t know them yet. If you need off the planet, or anywhere on the planet, we can work something out. I know how to get ships. Plan on getting one in a week or two, I know someone who needs a ride.”

“How are you going to get it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kicking around through some piles, pulling out a shirt, sniffing it, dropping it. “This place? This…bunker is just temporary. I’ve got a plan. Stumbling upon you was just a bonus.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked, pulling myself to a seated position.

“What?”

“I saw that you had some, sort of fresh scars. I didn’t know if maybe you were in pain.”

He waved me off and fished a silver box out of a pile of junk. It was pristine, in perfect condition, hidden among oily scratched metal scraps and bundles of wire. He took out shiny new syringes and bottles of fluid while he talked and smoked, sitting in a broken down leather chair across the room.

“What’s your name anyway?” He asked, prepping his equipment.

“Lanie.”

“Pleased to meet you. Toombs.”

“Toombs. Like…”

“Yeah, just like that,” he squirted a bit of morphine from the top of the syringe and tapped the glass. “Listen Lanie, I can tell this by lookin’ at ya, but I’ll ask just to be perfectly clear. You’re not going to get all prudish on me when I ask for you to repay me, are ya?” His eyes were not focused on mine. They were…lower.

I looked at him. Heavy lidded aqua eyes, strong white teeth. His hair was tousled, a curl of it hanging in front of his face. Square jaw, flat stomach, broad shoulders. Tall, strong, and up to now, a gentleman. My mind flashed to a scene of him naked, sweating. I blinked. I was no virgin.

“No,” I said. “Just…I can’t…I can’t do it now.” Even the thought of spreading my legs was painful.

“Of course not little rabbit. What am I, a monster? I won’t bother you when you’re hurt. Just wanted to make sure you were going to be a good girl for me.” I nodded. He nodded and smiled. “It’s been a long time,” he added. “I’ve been…out of commission.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe I’ll tell you about it when we’re done with all this stupid small talk.”

“Oh.”

The implication that we’d be together long enough to get past small talk and move on to more detailed and heartbreaking stories was a bit offputting. It was my intention to get a bandage, “repay” him and take off. I didn’t need a partner. I didn’t need baggage.

He jabbed the needle into the soft skin of his throat, right into one of the thick, pulsing veins. I winced at the sight of it and the tiny trickle of blood that followed when he pulled out the needle.

“You need more?” He asked walking over, filling a second syringe. “Sometimes it’s better to just knock off and sleep through all of this. Don’t you think? You know, wake me when it’s over and all that shit.”

I nodded, a little groggy, a little confused. He tipped my head to the side gently, his legs straddling my waist, but not touching me. I could smell him again, hear his lips part. I tensed and he said, “shhhh…it only hurts for a second.” I could feel the words on my skin. After the needle stung through my neck, he pulled it out smoothly and dropped it over the side of the bed. His eyes were nearly closed.

“Do something for me before you pass out,” he slurred. He slid down and put his head in my lap. “Put your arm around me while we sleep ok? Just for a little bit.”

I nodded and my head fell back onto the lumpy pillow. That night I heard his first nightmare from Crematoria.