Part 4
After Kylie stopped at the truck for her backpack, Burt led them through the brush to the cliff he'd been sitting at earlier. She hadn't noticed the view before. "Wow! This is beautiful," she said. "Burt, you know the best places!"
He gave her that smug half grin of his and sat down. "Yes, I do."
She grinned and sat beside him, digging in her pack.
He set a bottled water and an MRE next to her.
"I've got something better," Kylie said, pulling two thick plastic-wrapped sandwiches out of her backpack.
He eyed them suspiciously.
"It's okay," she said. "Nancy made them." She held each up in turn. "Do you want spicy, or extra spicy?"
Burt reached for the extra spicy one.
"You struck me as an extra-spicy man," Kylie said with her ever-present smile.
Burt opened the bag and started to take a bite, but Kylie stopped him. "Wait! You forgot--Nancy's a vegan."
While she dug around in her backpack some more, Burt opened the sandwich. Sure enough, there was cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes, but no meat. He shook his head in disgust. "It's like a salad with bread."
Kylie grinned. "Here," she said, pulling the package she got from Chang's out with a flourish, and opening it. It held a stack of sliced ham. He took half the stack and put it on the sandwich. "Sorry," she said, sliding the rest on her own sandwich, "but I'm a carnivore from way back."
He grinned in acknowledgement.
They shared a companionable silence for a few moments while they ate, until Kylie gave in to curiosity.
"So, Burt," she said, "how'd you get into the graboid business?"
He drank from his bottled water, then looked out over the desert. "I was in the Valley when the first ones came thirteen years ago," he said. "We got four here--no choice but to get rid of them ourselves."
"So not the blasé attitude toward them we have today, huh?" she prompted with a smile.
He shook his head. "One broke into my damn rec room. Nearly sucked me in just like happened to you. Heather shot its tentacle right off."
She cocked her head to one side. "Heather?"
"My wife." Uncomfortable, he took another swig from the bottle. "Ex-wife," he corrected.
"Ah," she said and looked away. She didn't like the gloomy note that crept into his voice. "You have just the one?"
He turned back to her. "The one what?"
"Ex."
"Yes, just the one," he said, shaking his head.
"So what happened with the graboid?"
"Got him with my elephant gun," he said with a grin. "4-bore Double Elephant Rifle. Single shot, 30 inch barrel, 18 pounds. It fired a round lead ball almost an inch diameter, 1,400 grains."
"I'm suitably impressed," Kylie said, her lips curving up. "You must have been having a great time with that one."
He nodded.
"Guess you lost that in the AssBlaster attack?"
"Unfortunate, but true," he said. "Why did you really come to Perfection?" he asked, changing the subject. "And don't tell me you wanted to visit Nancy," he added as soon as she opened her mouth.
"Had some trouble in LA," she admitted, "so Paul--that's my priest--decided I needed to be exiled until the heat died down."
His eyes narrowed. "Heat? What kind of heat?"
She grinned. "I'm not hiding out from the law, if that's what you're thinking."
He looked away. He'd wondered.
"Actually, it was just ex-boyfriend trouble."
Burt nodded as if he understood.
"It wasn't my fault," she said, correctly interpreting his look. "He got all weird on me so I dumped the guy, and he didn't take it well. Started doing the whole puppy gig, calling all the time, whining. When I finally got a clue through to him, my store was on fire and everything was crispy but me."
"Don't do that," Burt said quietly.
"Do what?" she asked, not looking at him.
"Every time you get to something serious, you start talking like that. Like a... like a dumb blond."
She grinned wryly. "Defense mechanism." She took a sip of her water and looked back up at him. "I was living in the apartment in the back of the store when it caught fire. It was the middle of the night, the alarms started going off. I had no idea what was going on until the smoke started pouring in. By then, of course, it was too late. I barely got out." She looked down at her lap again. "Lost my cat. He always liked to sleep in the store."
"Sorry to hear that," Burt said quietly.
She nodded.
"This ex-boyfriend responsible?"
"Yeah, but the cops didn't get him," Kylie said. "He had an alibi. Five of his best buddies swore he was at a party with them when the fire started. But he made sure I knew he did it."
"Sounds like a great guy."
"Oh yeah," she said with a smile. "I can sure pick 'em. My one talent."
"And that's why you had the panic attack the night you got here," Burt said after a moment.
"Good call," Kylie admitted with a sigh. "Everything was so messed up for so long, and I never did really deal with any of it, so when El Blanco attacked, I guess it all kinda... spewed out at once."
Burt nodded. "I noticed you haven't reacted that way since then."
"I would, you know," said Kylie, "but with as many little incidents we have around here, I just don't have the time." She visibly put it all out of her mind. "So anyway, here I am, hiding out until he finds another victim or something."
"In exile," he agreed.
"Well, as exiles go, this isn't half bad. Look at all the fun we're having."
"Of course."
She smiled. "It could be worse. If I'd stayed in LA, I'd be back working Acquisitions at REI."
"REI?"
"R&E International. A horrible corporation that takes little businesses and makes them non-businesses. My father thinks if he just exposes me to enough strategic management I'll be as addicted to big business as he is."
Burt snorted.
Kylie looked affronted. "Don't laugh. I'm actually pretty good at it. I'm a rottweiler in the board room."
Burt just gave her another disbelieving stare.
"No, it's true. I haven't always been a dumb blond, you know." She grinned to let Burt know she hadn't taken his comment to heart. "I've actually had a very good education and was started on not a half-bad career when I decided to drop out, become a Pagan, and open my store. Problem is, business is boring, but I'm not suited for much of anything else."
"Why is that?" That's a question Burt had been wondering since he met Kylie.
She sighed. "I had a 'classical education'. That means, basically, that I'm 'amazingly well read' for an American, but I have no actual skills whatsoever. I can discuss literature, mathematics, sciences, world history, and art, but have no clue when it comes to cooking, fixing things, or any other useful ability. Of course, it was nice when I got to college because I tested out of almost all my undergrad classes. Except American History, of course."
"American History?" Burt said, frowning. "How could that be a problem?"
She shrugged. "For some reason, European schools don't see American history as an important course." Then she grinned. "It was funny to see history from an American point of view. I kept arguing with my instructors."
"You still do," Burt pointed out.
She shrugged. "Can't argue with that, can I?" Then she grinned. "At least none of the others ever tried to shoot me."
Burt looked away, embarrassed. "About that... I shouldn't have--"
"No, no, you should have," Kylie assured him. "Trust me. Nothing else would have worked. I'm a royal pain in the ass when I get in one of my moods." She took another swig from the bottle at her side.
"It was probably from being raised in a convent. All those rules, you know," she said, when the silence had stretched out too long.
"Raised in a convent? I find that hard to believe," Burt replied. "I thought you were one of those... new age wackos."
"That would be 'neo-pagan'," she said dryly. "I was raised in a convent. I just never really bought in on the dogma." She pushed her hair back off her face. "I think my parents decided they'd had enough of me when I was seven. I guess I was annoying even then." She grinned. "They sent me to this convent boarding school in the Swiss Alps. I was there seven years, not counting school holidays and time off for good behavior."
Burt frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"No, no, it wasn't like that at all. It was a great place. We had fun. Little heavy on the dogma, but you have to expect that with nuns. We were like a big family. The nuns were all like little frustrated mothers and we kids were all the children they never got to have. It was like having twenty moms and thirty sisters. Made the world look a little odd when I came home, though." She drank the last of her bottled water. "I came home when I was fourteen, annoyed the parents, so they found another convent, this time in the Italian Alps. Stayed there until I was seventeen. That's where the 'classical education' came in." She paused to take two apples out of her backpack and offer him one. "You know, I never realized how totally useless I was until I came to Perfection."
"Useless?"
"I'm sure you've noticed, Burt," she said. "Everyone else here has something to do. Jodi has the store, Nancy's always puttering around in her studio, Tyler has the Tour and he fixes everybody's stuff, even Rosalita has the ranch to deal with. And you are always off working miracles in the Valley. And what do I do? I mess up everybody else's stuff because I don't know how to do anything. It's sad, really. I can converse with anyone on almost any topic, I can speak four languages fluently--five, if you count Latin--I can walk into a room and smile and have every man in the room fall all over himself to do anything for me. I can make just about anyone like me, no matter what I do to them." She paused to give Burt a smile. "Probably why you put up with me." She turned to look out over the desert again. "But I cannot cook a steak that is not black on both sides and raw in the middle. Even grilled cheese is beyond me, and my egg salad experiment is notorious in LA. I cannot figure out how to work a cash register if I have to do more than open and close it. I can't figure out how to get the gas pump to keep pumping when I walk away. I'm not fit to do anything but adorn some rich man's arm or make corporate employees hate me. In my whole life, I have not learned one useful skill. Not one."
"Sounds like you just need a better education," Burt said, when she paused to bite into her apple.
She smiled. "Actually, I got into more practical matters when I came back to the States and went to UCLA."
"What did you major in there?"
"Business, of course," she said, a grin on her face. "Officially, anyway."
"And, unofficially?"
"Partying, mostly..."
His eyebrows rose.
She giggled at his look. "Well, what could you expect? All those stories about Catholic school girls are true. I didn't even see a boy while I was a teenager and suddenly there was a whole world of them! I took what was offered."
"Doesn't sound like you enjoyed it," Burt said stubbornly.
She shrugged but smiled. "Some of it I did. But, my father got a look at the grades he was paying for and started looking for another convent."
"He find one?"
"Fortunately, no. What he did find, was a permanent bodyguard-slash-watchdog. With Daffyd around I couldn't have any fun. But believe me, I did try." She grinned. "I could have used some of your lessons back then."
"I wouldn't have taught you. Sounds like you were a brat."
She laughed. "I was." She took a bite of her apple and watched him. "So what is it you do all day, Burt?" she asked.
"Why?" He looked at her suspiciously.
"I'm compiling a top secret government dossier on you, of course," she said quite seriously.
He just stared at her.
She giggled and pushed at his shoulder. "Nancy's convinced you do nothing all day but run around killing anything that moves. Seems to me you'd get bored with that after a while."
"And run out of targets," he pointed out with that half grin of his.
"That too." She waited, but he didn't reply to her original question. "So? What do you do?"
He looked out over the landscape. "Someone's got to protect the Valley. Perfection's a dangerous place."
"Don't I know it!" She followed his gaze and tried to stifle a laugh.
"What's so funny?"
She looked back and found him watching her, suspicious as always. She rolled over on her stomach to face him. "I was just thinking of when I got here. That first night. I thought you were a knight in shining armor who guarded the Valley and rescued damsels in distress. And so you are!"
"Hardly a... a knight." He looked away again.
She grinned. "But definitely rescuing damsels in distress."
He shrugged it off, uncomfortable with the reminder. "No big deal."
"Kind of a big deal to the people you rescue, Burt." She smiled at his discomfiture and changed the subject. "So what does protecting the Valley involve?" she persisted.
"You wouldn't be interested."
"If I wasn't interested, I wouldn't ask," she replied.
"I've got lots of things to do. The geo-phones have to be checked regularly. The wrist-seismos depend on them."
"Those boxy-looking things with the solar panels that keep tripping me when I run?" she asked.
"Yes, those."
"That's not all..."
"No," he said, reluctantly. "I have patrols. There's no telling what kind of surprises this Valley can come up with while Mixmaster is present."
"So you just drive around all day?"
"I've got projects..."
"Of your own design, of course."
"Usually."
"So who does all this while you're on vacation?"
He frowned at her. "I don't go on vacations."
She put a mock horrified look on her face. "No vacations? How can you bear it?"
"This is what I do," he said emphatically.
She nodded. "Of course. You get into this stuff. For you, this is all one big vacation, right?"
"People's lives are at stake. It's important."
"So are you, Burt," she said, getting to her feet. "And if you don't take a break once in a while, you'll give yourself a heart attack and die. And then who'll protect the Valley?" She turned and left, back to their staging area.
Burt stared after her, astonished. She sounded angry. He didn't know why. He grimaced wryly. He thought they'd been getting along for a change.
Kylie picked up the M-16 she'd been firing and pondered it absently. She finally understood why Nancy was always trying to "improve" Burt. He'd work himself to death if left to it. And nobody helped him. Nobody. Well... Tyler did, a little. But Tyler had his own business to run and, well, a life. Burt did everything alone. It wasn't fair. He deserved better. He deserved... Something better than the deal he had, that was for sure.
She thought back to the first tarot reading she'd done on him. He didn't know about that one. The Hermit came up. She never liked when that one showed up. And then it showed up again when she the reading he knew about, and almost every time after that. She knew he was an "antisocial, paramilitary paranoid"--emphasis on antisocial--but he needed some kind of interaction with people. The guns just weren't that great with the conversation.
She sighed. Looking over the last week or so, she figured if he hadn't been taking her out to her run, there would be days on end when he wouldn't have said a word to another living soul. If he continued on the way he was, he'd just get more and more cut off from the rest of the world.
She doubted he'd change. She put the gun down and sank to the ground.
As much as she baited him, she liked Burt. He was smart and dedicated and about the bravest man she'd ever met. And so passionate about so many things.
And no one to enjoy all that passion but himself.
Maybe Nancy was right. Burt needed improving.
No, she thought. Burt was fine the way he was. Maybe... he just needed... more opportunities. Maybe just someone to kick him in the pants once in a while. She smiled at that image.
She looked up when he approached and set the backpack she'd left behind on the table.
"Ready for more practice?" he asked, maybe just a shade too heartily.
She smiled. "If you can take it, so can I."
Once Burt felt Kylie had enough firing for the day, Burt started on the promised maintenance and cleaning portion. He set the last piece of the disassembled M-16 on the table in front of Kylie. "Now your turn," he said. "Put it back together."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. I've shown you how to take it apart twice now. All you have to do is put it back together."
She looked at the parts dubiously. "I was always taught we're supposed to put things back the way we find them."
He gave her That Look again.
She started fiddling with the parts, picking up one after another then setting it back down. "Do I win a prize if I have extra parts when I'm done?"
He frowned. "May I remind you that you promised you'd take this seriously?
She smiled at him, trying to tease the frown off his face. "I am taking it seriously."
His eyebrows rose skeptically.
"I just have to make a wisecrack every now and then to get it out of my system." His chin went up so he could look down his nose at her. "You wouldn't want me to explode, would you?" He continued staring wordlessly. "I wouldn't be around to help you clean up the mess!"
He shook his head. "I think you would explode."
"Most likely," she replied complacently. "Why don't we settle on an acceptable rate, say, one free wisecrack every half hour."
"I don't think so."
"Okay, how about one every fifteen minutes?"
"Kylie..."
"All right, all right! One ever hour, but that's my final offer!" That one teased one of Burt's rare half-smiles from him, and with that, Kylie was satisfied. "Anyway, since this hour's wisecrack is already used up, you went too fast." She looked back at the parts laid out on the table. "I have no idea what to do with these pieces."
"You should have been paying attention, then, instead of planning your next wisecrack."
She gave him a look of exaggerated shock. "I was paying attention. You just went too fast for me. You may have done this all your life, and it's all reflex, but I'm new at this. First day on the gun range, remember?" He set both hands on the table and stared at her expectantly. "Really, Burt. This is Kylie. The one who disassembled Tyler's engine? You're straying dangerously into the realm of Mysterious Manly Mechanical Things, and I'm... well, kinda lost."
"I'll show you again," he said, starting to gather up the parts.
"No," she said, a hand on his arm. "Just come over here and show me which part goes where. I think if I do it once, I'll remember."
He raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe two or three times."
"At least," he said, but he came around the table to stand next to her.
She spread her hands over the parts. "Okay... which one's first?"
"That one," he said, tapping a long spring.
She picked it up and scanned the remaining parts. He started to point to something else, but she stopped him. "I think I've got that one..." Her hand darted out to pick up the buffer, and Burt nodded approvingly. She put the spring on the buffer then scanned the rest of the pieces. "Okay, so this goes in one of the big thingamajigs, right?"
Burt rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This is going to take some time..."