By Chustang Sundust
"Come on Aniki! You're fine; now get your ass in the car!" Jim
yelled impatiently, and angrily blared the horn to hurry up his lethargic
comrade and legal guardian. The eight-year-old kid twisted his lips in
a frown, and his blue eyes narrowed underneath his dishevel top of blonde
hair, honking again and again. Finally, he heard the annoyed reply from
Gene.
"I'm coming! Hold your horses, would you?" he yelled from the
bedroom. The redhead sighed angrily to himself, ruffling the stiffness
from his spiky crimson locks, then slipped on a shirt from the sea of them
on the floor. Gene pulled his shoes on, a pair of worn, dirt-smudged sneakers
he'd had for years and still flopped on his ankles when he ran. Another
loud and impatient blare announced Jim was still waiting. "Alright already
Jim! I don't think I've forgotten already," he yelled again. But still,
he sprinted down over to the stairs, leaped fearlessly onto the rail, slid
down and landed running, sprinting out the door to the garage.
Jim was clearly displeased with Gene's childish lateness and
lethargy, and the young face held a dictating parental force of authority.
His eyes flickered to Gene's empty hands, and the frown didn't lessen a
bit. "Gene," he reprimanded softly, folding his arms over the steering
wheel of his classic car.
"What?" the fiery-haired teen, only seventeen, asked innocently.
His eyes flickered downward suddenly, and he looked at his hand, which
held nothing. Instantly, Gene plastered on a sheepish grin to his dark-skinned
and slightly scarred face and turned to run back up the stairs. "I'll get
it!"
Jim cynically frowned again, and slapped his palm against his
forehead. And promptly, it developed its daily headache for today. The
kid leaned against the horn and blew a lock of golden hair impatiently
from his face, and the drone of the blaring horn seemed to drown out some
of the embarrassment.
"So, if this is any good, why are we getting rid of it?" The redhead
cast curious steel blue eyes through the whipping mess of red hair, at
his younger comrade. In his hand, was a shining, bronze castor gun, which
caught the midday sun like a gem and sent back to their eyes in a blur
of golden-bronze light. Gene lightly ran his fingers across the steely
cold skin of the rare gun, lifting it up. It was probably worth more than
he had made in the last five years, considering that wasn't all that much.
"We're not getting rid of it Gene," Jim explained, turning his
head from the road for a minute. The blonde pressed the blocks tied to
his shoes against the brakes to slow down at the streetlight, then looked
back to driving.
A confused wave washed over his Aniki's face and he lifted an
eyebrow. "Hey come on, you promised you'd explain what we were doing if
I woke up before eleven today," he reminded Jim, slipping the Castor into
the sheath that he'd found on the dead owner of the gun. Gene heard the
kid laugh, and grin slyly at him.
"So I guess you fell for my trick."
"Jim!"
The kid was grinning too much and it burst into laughter, as
Gene just folded his arms indignantly and looked away. His lips were pursed
huffily, yet he didn't close his ears to the prodigy as he explained. Jim
didn't mind the anger between them; it just proved he could hit a nerve
when it came to Gene. The blonde looked back to the road and pressed the
acceleration. "No, really," Jim said. "You know the man we saw in the alley,
the night we found the castor? Well, I got to digging in the police database
– "
"Again?" Gene interrupted cynically, not looking at the kid.
His dark blue eyes scanned the dusty and empty of Locust, where anymore
than the hometown kids wandering for a good time were considered strange.
The sidewalk was always empty. All the businesses were by the spaceport
anyway; there were only apartment and small, family run stores uptown.
"Yes, again," Jim replied sarcastically, displeased with Gene's
snap. "I am a hacker you know. And I'm expected to run the business, too."
"Yeah, well," he said, leaning against the car side and placing
his chin in his palm, "but you aren't the one who busts his ass fighting
all the bounties you come up."
"Anyway," Jim muttered under his breath, flashing sulky blue
eyes at him ever so often, "I found out the other guy is wanted for 10
grand. It looked like he stole the castor gun from a weapon smuggler and
gave it to his friend we killed in the alley. He probably wants it
back. So, I was thinking. If we used the castor as bait, we might be able
to ambush him. Uh, I mean… you might be able to ambush him…"
But Gene hadn't been listening. As the wind whipped through his
hair, blowing icily against the burn of forming scars on his cheek, he
looked tiredly down the streets. He'd learned to take all the words, memorize
them, then stuff them in the back of his head until he needed them, then
he'd figure it all out. So that left him free to think about whatever came
his way. His eyes dully fell on the people for some thought. He fell into
a boring game of naming all the people. That was Trisha Leer, and her sister
Tammi, George Hemlock, Ed, Edd, and Eddie, and…
Who was that?
Gene instantly noticed her; she was new to town. She was alone
on the streets, holding a bag of groceries, and was just drop dead gorgeous.
Not in the way he'd seen before: just different. She was tall enough, probably
just up to his shoulder, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. With
long, vibrant, and jet black hair and long stands caught over her ears
blowing gently in the wind, her hair was thick and layered with many tones
of shine. Her face was rounded and soft with an inborn gentility, and he
could see her large, chocolate brown eyes filled with an attractively soft
light. Her hips swayed slightly when she walked, with just a touch of attitude
to her stride. He seemed glued to her dark and mysterious beauty. Who was
she?
"Gene!"
The redhead turned to meet Jim's furious eyes and pursed lips.
"Anyway, back to what I was saying…"
"Yeah, okay," Gene grumbled quickly, turning his head to look
at the mystery girl again. But, to no avail.
They'd left her in the dust.
Jim sighed, and then turned back to the road. He'd just run through
a stoplight. He screamed in fear, as he saw another car suddenly collide.
Talking to Gene had distracted him and it cost them. The redhead turned
at Jim's scream of pure terror and gulped, knowing not if he'd live; yet
his mind was still glued to the girl. Red-hot pain, then black.
End
