Notes: Still looking for suggestions for chapters/snippets. The two that I received have been written and will be uploaded soon. One involves a rabbit, one involves a junkie.
Win a prize if you guess what happens in either one before they're posted.
Shilo felt oddly detached. Her bag weighed no more or less than usual but somehow the knowledge of the zydrate gun made it seem weightless. She had to keep her hand on the canvas strap just to make sure it was still there, hanging innocently by her side. A zydrate vial was tucked into the pocket of her vest, out of sight, she couldn't stop thinking about it. Genecops had already come by twice to talk to her, concerned for the little girl standing in the dim light from the lonely street lamp. Even at this time of night she couldn't possibly be up to no good. Shilo was too sweet, her wide brown eyes too convincing. And if they happened to stop for too long all she had to do was smile and tell them she was waiting for someone that would be along soon. A friend, a brother, a boyfriend... A client.
The junkie approached her cautiously, at first not sure that she was what he was looking for. A smale and a single word later she had the gun pressed against his skin, a small wad of cash tucked into her pocket. The needle sank through skin, Shilo squeezed the trigger, and the addict stumbled off in a dreamy stupor. She watched him leave as she put the gun away.
Shilo celebrated a little on the inside. Her first solo transaction with a client, first official 'payoff' from her new career - Graverobber would be proud. She wondered if he was really watching. He'd said that he would be, but she hadn't seen any sign of him or heard him humming. The sharp clack of heels against concrete sounded nearby and suddenly she had no time to ponder the whereabouts of the Graverobber. Three sales later and Shilo's single vial of zydrate was empty. The money she had made would pay for hot water and laundry. After discovering coin operated laundromats Silo had resolved never have to wash her clothes in the bathtub again.
She was half way home when she heard whistling. The sound seemed to follow her, trailing along behind her, echoing in the quiet. Relief filled her, spurned by the knowledge that she was not alone. Shilo would never realise that other girls her age, normal girls, would be terrified to think that someone was stalking them in the shadows. Shilo recognised her stalker purely by the tune that he whistled and the crunch of heavy boots against loose gravel at the side of the road. A malevolent laughter echoed down the street and Shilo shook her head. Hammer horror was like a trademark for the Graverobber. "How did I do?" she asked the empty street, skipping a little and twirling in the middle of the empty road. "I did good, didn't I?"
"You were very good," his voice came to her from the opposite side of the road. A moment later she saw his shaggy, shadowy form appear in the gloom. "I especially liked the oblivious helpfulness of those cops..."
"I was just waiting for my boyfriend," Shilo smiled winningly, "it wasn't my fault he was late."
"But you're sure you didn't need a ride?" Graverobber teased her, playing the role of the oblivious and helpful lawkeeper, "you don't need someone to wait with you."
"No, it's ok," Shilo chirped in reply. "I can call him. And if it gets too late I'll just leave."
"But it's dangerous alone at night."
"I have pepper spray."
"This is an awfully odd place to arrange to meet you. How old did you say your boyfriend was again?"
"Oh, I didn't," Shilo grinned, hop-skipping over a puddle. "He's older than I am. Practically ancient."
"I am not ancient."
"Are you my boyfriend?" Shilo asked.
The Graverobber almost stopped in his tracks, recovering a split second later so that only one step seemed slower than the rest. He looked at her, frowning slightly. "I don't know," he said finally. "Do you want me to be?"
"You met my parents," she pointed out. "I thought it was obvious."
"I'm twice your age."
Shilo shook her head, recognising the statement as anything but a protest. It was just a fact, a warning to make sure she knew. As if she didn't already. "I'm half of yours," she shot back. "Anyway, that's not true. You never told me how old you are at all."
"Does it matter?" he asked.
Shilo considered, turning over everything she knew of him in her mind. He was frightening at times, annoying all the time, and in no way good for her. Her father never would have approved, and neither would her mother, or anyone else for that matter. She knew next to nothing about his past, no statistics, not even his real name. But he was trustworthy, and the irony in that made her smile. "No," Shilo said finally, "no, it doesn't matter."
She was probably going to hell. Why not get properly acquainted with the devil beforehand?