The sunset illuminates gravel elevators for a dead concrete plant. They slope up in the distance, pitch-black conveyor belts standing tall, rising at a 45-degree angle above the pattern of silhouetted trees. I used to despise the dead manufactories and the way they spoiled the sightline with their unnaturally straight lines. Appalachia had nearly two hundred years of abandoned industry left to rot and fall apart miles from civilization, and today, it's a reminder that most of my new world is just a coat of paint on the old. Cell phones, wannabee gangstas cutting class to do drugs, bullshit health trends from the far corners of the internet, cops, gas station convenience stores, guest bedrooms, and the lingering debris of economic conditions past. Even this room is like so many others, the beds and the cabinets and the desk all built to accommodate the same sort of bodies. I'm so far from home, yet what really changed? I already knew monsters were real.
When you dream, your imagination runs wild, but not all of your brain participates. Your short-term memory only responds to the conscious. You can remember the words in the book or the time on the clock - but the fantasy can't. I can say for certain that I am not dreaming.
I suppose I have to learn to live here. Learning to live with the denizens is step one. They hardly seem different from humans, morphology aside. Plenty of humans got along with other humans. Maybe this is a fresh start. Apparently my disguise is hot as hell... although the stick-guy mentioned that I have to kill to maintain it. I should have asked more questions about that.
There's a knock on the door. I'm so tired, but I feel like I can't stop here. I might have to muster all my strength to decline whatever they want me to do if it's too strenuous. I can justify that, right? I was just in a car crash, and don't know where I am or where my parents are. So they think. A bit of exhaustion can be forgiven.
I open the door. Taiga is standing there. She looks down at the ground sheepishly. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier today. I wasn't thinking and I can tell I made you very uncomfortable."
"I said it was okay." I mutter. "I get it, really. Shit happens."
"Yes, but you're a guest, and I should have kept better control over myself. I-"
"Don't be a kiss-ass." I cut off her protests out of annoyance.
She turns her eyes up to me in confusion. "...What?"
"I said it's okay. It's okay. It's pathetic to apologize to someone who's already over it." I just about bite my tongue as I realize what I'm saying. Now I'm the one being a dick.
She sighs. "You really don't mind it?"
I shrug. "I don't mind awkward girls. Did your mother put you up to this?"
"Well, it was her idea, but she didn't have to talk me into it, so, like, half-and-half?" She puts forward as nervous relief washes over her face. "I am so glad I didn't make you feel any worse. I'm sure you're just fucked up right now, I'd kill myself if I was making it worse."
"It's not great, no." I admit. Holy shit, when you're hot, women really do let you get away with anything.
She waits a second for me to continue. "So... want to, like watch a movie? I saw how you were looking at those old cartoons."
I turn it over in my mind. Unless these two are raucous movie watchers this shouldn't be too difficult. "Sure. Which one do you think is the best? I haven't seen any of those ones."
"The best one is the first one." She assures me. "Oh, mind, uh, leaving the..." she motions to my back, where I still have my rifle slung over my shoulder even now. I prop it against the wall. She leads me downstairs and works the DVD player skillfully as I get comfortable on the couch. "Sorry, again. Guns just... they scare me, you know?"
"They ain't that bad." I say.
She grimaces theatrically. "Well, you say that, but you've lived around them a lot longer. I have a little pistol to deal with the bugs, the bullets are way smaller and supposedly they can't really kill people, but it still kind of freaks me out just to hold it."
I stretch my arms. I've met plenty of folks who felt the same way and I never understood it, but hey, that's their problem. She sits down next to me and I offer her the remote to cover up that I don't recognize the symbols on any of the buttons. The screen turns on, the sound of cheerful orchestral music fills the room, and a picture of some happy-go-lucky bugs appears in front of us.
As our heroic grasshopper-bee duo flees the lair of the evil spider to begin the second act, Taiga tries to be sneaky and lays an arm across my back. My arms tense up from the uninvited touch but I just don't feel like fighting it. Then the oddest thing happens: I relax.
A few minutes later, all defenses have vanished and she's leaning against me, and I like it. Even though we've hardly said a word, I feel like I have someone, albeit in an ethereal and delicate way that could snap if I say one word or move one inch. The heat of another's touch can warm one down to a heart that's normally iced-over, and I am reminded of this for the first time in years.
She might be an upsetting hybrid of man and animal, but I look at her and realize I can't hate her anymore.
The movie ends and despite the simplicity of the story I am smothered in conflicting emotions. I also stand up so I can be asleep on my feet instead of passing out on the couch. "You don't want to watch another?" Taiga asks.
"I want to sleep in a bed, but thanks for the offer." I reply. I couldn't hide my drowsiness if I wanted to.
"You want to sleep... alone?" She offers. She's being as precise as a sledgehammer, but I am already hammered. Either that or I'm too tired to do anything besides drag myself up the stairs and sleep. In my state, I can't fully tell what I'm thinking. Isn't exhaustion fun that way? It's like being on laughing gas except your brain is affected, too. A complex biological computer honed by billions of years, reduced to a limp puddle. A few steps is all that lies between me and being functional again, and I prepare myself for the journey.
Oh, shit, I forgot to respond. "Yes, please."
She watches me pull my sorry ass away. "Goodnight, Osk."
"Goodnight, Taiga." I mumble behind myself.
The door to my temporary room closes behind me and I lose most of my clothes into a pile on the floor. My entire body is furry. This catches me off guard until I remember I shouldn't be surprised. I crawl into bed and pull the covers off, instinctually grabbing my phone for a little more websurfing before bed. My eyes ain't just struggling to see in my current state, the whole thing is in gibberish because I got the wrong phone. There's more messages from Ms. Roadkill's friends, but there's one from an unknown number sending an image. It's a piece of paper with the words "DID YOU KNOW THIS IS ANOPLOTHERIIDAE LAND? THE DEER ain't NATIVES. THESE FUCKERS PROBABLY DON'T EVEN KNOW THAT THEY'RE TRESPASSING"
I ignore it and pass out.
The buttons on my flip-phone click quietly as I tap out a message.
you'll never guess what happened
A few minutes later, Argona responds.
u had a religous experience listening 2 the new album? i know i sure did
oh damn i completely forgot about that
how the FUCK do you forget about that taiga
I smile thinking about the events of the day. Even if I didn't get everything I wanted, I made some strong progress.
a boy came to my house randomly. just out of the woods
he's so fkin hot, he looks like teenage avatos bonaparte, no shit
and hes not some total bigshot who never listens, he's totally pliable
sucks that hes gay
he's not
rly? girl u better have roped that mf in
fuck, for teenage avatos u better be on his dick right now
i tried but i kinda fumbled it :/ salvaged it later but he was too tired by then and went straight to bed. totally trying again tomorrow though
good luck sista. u r forgiven for forgetting about Artio Cervio
i'm totally going to get him, btw. for once mom is being cool
well she's not being racist to my bf, only racist around him
u sure shes not trying to take him for herself?
ye i doubt it, thank fuck. i am barely able to handle myself, the last thing i need is competition
she's probably gonna try at some point
so why was some guy wandering ur neck of the woods anyways and how do i make it happen here?
apparently he was here to help get the human
hes got this crazy decked-out rifle, i dind't even realize those were legal
his car got rammed off the road by some army shits and he's staying the night here until a friend picks him up
a teenager with a gun? where are his parents?
they might be dead :( but i hope not
he seems nice and him being depressed will make it harder for me to be around him
oh no! well if the military killed his parents you should ask axis to get them all court marshalled
i don't think thats the right word
If u kno what i mean then it is
how's the maybe-human hunt going, anyways?
theyre still lookin. i dont know how they managed to lose him but they did
lmao fucking pigs
ikr???
I walk through the living room, permission slip in my hands. It's been so long that I can hardly remember what was on the TV, but it doesn't matter, dad is asleep and only has it on as white noise. I won't bother to wake him up. I creep to my room and set my bookbag down as I get on my computer. Between the soap opera or whatever and the closed door, I can play my own music loud enough and not interrupt his nap.
The school is going to be taking a three-day trip into the Smokies. The big-ticket item is going to be a hike to the top of Mount LeConte. I've talked to people who've been there and I can believe the autumn view is to die for. It's so far east that I've hardly ever had an excuse to be that way during the school seasons, and now I can spend most of a week hiking the trails and more.
I was worried that science class was going to be pointless ever since I found out they weren't going to teach us how to make bombs. Looking at this itinerary, turns out biology can be fun after all.
The logistics of the trip flow through my head. I already know that dad won't complain if I forge his signature as long as I mention I'll be leaving beforehand, and if he doesn't want to pay, I actually have enough to fund it myself. I put a pen to the signature line and stop.
How should I prepare? Obviously I know how to pack extra sets of clothes, but there's more to it. I'll be in the wilderness (sort of) surrounded by my fellow students. That could be a problem. I don't trust them to not do something we'd all regret. Right now, if school gets too bad, I can walk home if I have to, a privilege I won't have in the mountains. I couldn't call dad just because the other kids were being mean.
And I won't have any of my guns, either, since it's a school trip and I'd get expelled. Being able to go home on short notice or being able to carry, I need one or the other to deal with people.
And I wouldn't have my phone because schools don't like those, so I'd be disconnected from the videos I watch and the music I listen to after a long day. The only thing I'd have is crap-ass talk radio and decade-old pop songs. Fuck that. If I'm going to spend three days stuck with other kids I'm going to need a constant supply of good tunes.
And really, who am I kidding? I've spent my whole life learning how to navigate the wilderness, but we're not going to be doing anything cool or else parents would complain that it's dangerous. Nobody cares if I can live off wild animals and river water for weeks at a time, or if I can read a map like an open book, or if I can name every constellation in English and Algonquin astronomy. That won't make me cool. That won't make me popular.
So actually this trip would be 72 hours straight of school but at least it's somewhere picturesque. Great idea. I'm so excited.
I lean back in my chair, letting the back bend to the fullest so that I'm very nearly tipping over. My shining dream of spending school days doing what I would have been doing anyways isn't quite how this works. Now that I think about it, this sounds like a waking nightmare that I'd be paying to live through.
I sigh. If I was anyone else, this would be a dream come true. If only I wasn't fucking me.
I tear the permission slip in half, then again, then again, then again. The small pieces of paper flutter gently into a trash can. My teeth grind as I stare at the lost hope sitting there as if it didn't just crush me, then I lay my head down into my arms on the desk. My fingers pry into my skin and try to tear it off of my body, and my eyes are forced shut so tightly that it hurts. I want to scream. But seriously, what good would that do?
I wonder how long I can put off figuring out what exactly this artifact done to my body beyond simply covering me in a layer of fur. Hopefully it's forever. God, I knew some kids who would kill to own a real magical artifact. They should be here, they'd shit themselves.
I stop running my belt through the loops in shock. I knew some kids who would kill to own a necklace that turned you into an animal-person. Those fuckers getting sent here? They wouldn't kill for that, they'd shoot up a whole damn school, because I'm noticing there's not a lot of males here and the ladies can get real horny. I already know that at least a few humans have fucked normal deer, drop a furry in here and he'd be in heaven. What a thought, I hope I never have it again!
And I'm sure that a lot of other dudes would find this place interesting in less gross ways. Why me? I'm literally the only person who WOULDN'T want to have been sent here.
There are footsteps outside. The house is waking up.
Oh, yeah, I grab my stolen phone and go over the message I got. I'm guessing it's Mr. Sticks who was sending it since it looks like his handwriting and he's the only creature I've met who can definitely write in latin script. I wonder how he got the number for this phone, or how he knew I had it.
Well, he's sent me a picture because that way he can write letters in latin. These phones don't have a keyboard that can do that normally. That process works both ways. This old flip-phone was super new tech to the owner. My own smartphone's camera has a hundred times the resolution or more, but this one's will do. I write my response on a piece of paper from a discarded notepad and clipboard I found in one of the drawers and figure out how to take a picture and send it back. I've never heard of an "Anoplotheriidae" before, but from what he said, I can guess that they're basically analogous to how Native Americans were to my own homeland. That's fucking interesting, since unless Sticks knows a lot more about me than he's letting on, he wouldn't have any particular reason to think I'd care.
"HOW'D YOU LEARN TO WRITE LIKE THIS?" I send back. I finish dressing myself as I wait for a response.
"ONE OF YOUR PREDECESSORS LEFT SOME THINGS BEHIND. I'M WATCHING YOU FROM OUTSIDE, YOU'RE DOING GREAT ☺" he eventually sends back.
Nice excuse. "WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?" I write down and send.
Minutes pass. I bet his resolution is better because he's taking a picture with a digital camera and swapping SD cards. "SAME AS I SAID EARLIER. YOU CAN CLEANSE THE WORLD IF YOU JUST TRY. IT DOESN'T COME AS NATURALLY FOR US. KILLING THESE TWO IS ONLY A SINGLE STEP."
"CAN THIS ARTIFACT DO MORE THAN HIDE ME?" I ask.
"YES AND NO. THAT'S ITS ONLY DIRECT ABILITY. IT IS THE BEST SUPERPOWER. WHEN YOU CAN AVOID CONSEQUENCES FOR ANYTHING YOU DO, YOU CAN MAKE YOUR WILDEST DREAMS COME TRUE." As I'm thinking of my response, a second photo arrives. "KILL THEM WHENEVER YOU WANT. YOUR TOTEMIC ANIMAL IS THE DEER, BUT I BET YOU ALREADY KNEW THAT."
I did already know that, but I didn't make a connection. After all, what does an Earthly superstition of a dead culture have to do with a magical artifact in another dimension? This motherfucker. "I DON'T THINK I WILL"
I pack my things. I need to figure out a way to live here longer-term. I'm going to start by not shooting more people. I'm going to join the ranks of the many who don't care who's land they live on or how many people they've slept with. My phone buzzes. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'NO'? WERE YOU DROPPED ON YOUR HEAD AS A FETUS? SERIOUS QUESTION." "HEY REMEMBER WHEN YOU HIT SOMEONE WITH YOUR CAR AND INSTEAD OF TAKING HER TO THE HOSPITAL YOU TOOK OFF HER CLOTHES AND PUT THEM IN YOUR TRUNK?"
My heart skips a beat. This motherfucker. This. Mother. Fucker. He's using me, that's literally it. There's no more to it than that. He can go fuck himself. He's been watching me this whole time, hasn't he? Watching and salivating about having his own pet monster. Fuck that. It's my life, it's damn near the last thing I own and I'm doing with it whatever I want. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO CHANGE MY MIND."
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING? YOU KILLED NINE PEOPLE AND TWO MORE IS SUCH A FUCKING BURDEN? STOP BEING A PUSSY. I SAVED YOUR LIFE, NOW FUCKING HELP ME."
"I KILLED EIGHT PEOPLE, SEVEN IN SELF DEFENSE AND ONE ON ACCIDENT"
"REMEMBER WHEN YOU HAD THE LAST KID ON THE RUN AND TOO INJURED TO FIGHT BACK AND YOU WALKED OUTSIDE AND PUSHED YOUR GUN RIGHT AGAINST HER HEAD AND BLEW HER FUCKING BRAINS OUT? FUCK OFF, YOU LOVE THIS SHIT"
I hold the phone high, holding it so tightly the plastic is creaking under the pressure, and nearly throw it against the ground as hard as I can. What does he think he knows? That I'm not perfect? That I'm not part of God's well-oiled machine? Yeah, he's right. No fucking shit. Doesn't mean I have to keep making the world a worse place. Fucking, I'm tired of being a burden. I don't know why I do anything I do and the only thing that ever happens is I make people's lives worse. "I DON'T WANT TO." I start doing some morning stretches. I don't normally but fuck it, I've got to work this stress out. I really wish I could argue more forcefully that he was wrong about me liking it. I don't know, man. Maybe the guilt would come later. Maybe I'm just screwed up by years of hunting all the damn time. I just want to go home.
"LISTEN RETARD, IT'S NOT UP TO YOU. EITHER YOU KILL THEM OR YOU DIE. YOU CANNOT STOP NOW. THAT'S NOT WHO YOU ARE."
There's something delicious about this. I don't often ask for help, and never from people I don't like. It's rare for me to be on the other side of the exchange. I take out my pencil for one last message. This is probably going to end the same way as everything else I do, in a big mess that leaves everyone miserable, and when it happens I probably won't even have the energy to pretend to be surprised that everything went to shit, but just this one last time I'm going to fight it and see if it's the day it changes, or if my personal hell will continue.
"OKAY." I've had so many fresh starts over the course of my life. Now that I finally have a good reason, I can survive one more.
I finish my stretches and stare out the window. He's probably right about how I'm just killing myself, but I think about yesterday and I couldn't throw Taiga and her mother under the bus if I wanted to. It's ironic that this whole adventure happened when it did. When I left for that late-night drive, I didn't plan to come back, it's just been a much more colorful trip than I expected. I got really distracted. Oh, well. I wonder if any of the predecessors he mentioned lasted shorter than I did?
There's a knock at the door. I interrupt my thoughts to open it. Taiga is standing there. "How'd you sleep? Great, right?" She's carrying two more bowls of salad, a different sort than yesterday's.
"Well enough," I mutter, torn between the stresses of talking to someone else and hiding that reaction to seeing her. Yesterday I wondered idly if this disguise had given me a deer's tongue and I'm noticing that I've been finding these creatures less revolting ever since I started wearing it. That... is concerning. I can remember how horrifying I found them the first times I saw them, the abominations from the depths of the mind, and I can feel that that's just not here anymore.
"So, want, like, breakfast?" She offers.
"Sure, what is it?"
"It's a Mediterranean mix. A bit more complex than what we had yesterday. You'll have to tell me how it is." She says. I pick up one of the bowls and the fork it came with. The shaking barely goes down as it transfers hands. She stands in the doorway and starts eating her own. "When are you leaving?"
I sigh. I remember Sticks saying that this disguise will start falling apart in a day and it's nearly been that long. "Pretty soon, I guess. My friend'll get here early. I'll probably leave not long after finishing this." I stick some in my mouth. "It's pretty good. Maybe I'll make it last." I chalked it up to the stressors of the previous days holding it back, but with time in a real bed, the aches and pains and soreness of my exertion and battles has returned. My jaw stings and my muscles twinge. I have to stay strong in front of a woman, and a monster too.
She smiles sadly. "Wow, that's a shame."
"It's not all bad." I point out. "I have a phone, I just can't get signal. What's your number? We can chat later." I appreciate what she's done for me, and even if this false body is going to fall apart soon, I don't want to subject her to it. It's been so long since I believed someone showed interest in me out of genuine affection.
The hint of moroseness disappears from her. "Really? Oh, hell yes." I pull out my stolen phone and let her put her info into the contacts list. I only remember once I've handed it to her that there could be a lot of casually incriminating stuff there but she either doesn't find it or ignores it. "I'll be sure to stay in touch," She says hesitantly. "But, well, if you're leaving so soon, then..." Suddenly she's learning over me and about to put a hand on my chest. Before I even realize what she's doing, the doorbell rings. "Who the hell is that?" She impatiently asks.
She stomps downstairs. I'm a bit glad. I was worried things were going to get racy. I like her, but I'm tired and hungry and everything hurts and I'm not wearing my own skin and if there's ever a bad time to get laid it's now. Man, this salad tastes nice but it's not filling me up. I must be really empty.
Something distinctly male is downstairs. I can hear increasingly angry shouting. I start listening in. Yup, it's an argument. Oh, lovely, the guy just called Taiga a whore. She's telling him to stop being an ass. Taiga's mom said something. I'm guessing it was not about universal brotherhood since the guy's mad as hell now. "Where is that piece of shit?" He yells.
"Get out, Kuhl! We don't want you here!" Taiga yells after him. I can hear them better because they're coming closer to where I am.
"Shut up! You think you can just throw me away like that!?" There's a loud thwack. I stand up. This is bad. I reach for my rifle and hold it against my chest. Time to start thinking about how to de-escalate. "Tell me where that fucker is, I'm going to kill him."
"No you won't, you douchebag, he's got a gun!"
"Yeah but I bet he's too much of a pussy to use it!"
My god, I ain't retarded enough to be on this guy's level. I guess I'm not going to de-escalate this one in a nice and safe way.
I leave my room, rifle held firm. I catch Kuhl as he hits the bend in the stairs. He glares at me from below. "So you're the tough guy who's been fucking my bitch?" He growls.
"I'm a traveler and these people have been very kind to me. You, however, need to leave." I tell him, staring into his eyes. I have the gun. I have no reason to back down.
"You don't tell me what to do." He roars.
I shoulder my rifle and put the sights over his torso. "Yes, I do."
He glares at me and starts coming up the stairs one step at a time. When he's only one or two away from me, I kick him in the chest. He tries to grab for my leg but he's not fast enough and he crashes to the bottom. "Oh, you motherf-" He grimaces, putting one hand to his head. The other goes for his pants. I pull the trigger and shoot a hole right through his chest. Warm, moist blood pours forth and down the stairs. Taiga screams. Kuhl drops his phone weakly and it clatters down the last few stairs.
Pull, twist, turn, push, aim, fire. The body jerks as part of his face gets blown into bite-sized chunks and the wall behind him gets painted red. I am so hungry. I want to reach into his skull and take a fistful of brain and scoop it into my mouth. My stomach is rumbling. I bet it tastes like the most tender steak.
This... this is DEFINITELY the magical charm taking over my brain. I am going to ignore it. Problem is, I don't know what it's going to do next.
I walk down the stairs, ignoring the intoxicating smell of the dead body. Taiga is standing there, eyes wide and hands held to mouth in shock. "I'm sorry about the mess, but I do need to go now. You really shouldn't play with people's hearts, though, or else this sort of thing happens." I nod to the corpse.
"...You're just going to leave?" Her mother asks.
"Yeah." I say. I am starving. I don't know how far I'll make it, but I need to get out of sight of these two, at least, and I need to do it right now. My body is so heavy.
A few more steps and I'll be in the great outdoors and can pass out safely.
"Do we... call 0-900?" I ask.
"I'll, uh... I'll do it." My mother answers. I stare at Kuhl. What's going to happen now? And what about Oski? There's a loud thump and Oski has collapsed against the door as he tried to open it. I run over to him. His eyes are closed and he's still breathing, he's just fainted. Somehow I didn't. He'll probably get over it, probably. If he won't, I don't know how to fix it, so I hope he will. The absolute STENCH coming from Kuhl. Kuhl, that asshole, he didn't deserve to get his head blown off but what did he think was going to happen?
"I'll, uh... I'll do it." My mother answers. I stare at Kuhl. What's going to happen now? And what about Oski? There's a loud thump and Oski has collapsed against the door as he tried to open it. I run over to him. His eyes are closed and he's still breathing, he's just fainted. Somehow I didn't. He'll probably get over it, probably. If he won't, I don't know how to fix it, so I hope he will.
Mom takes forever to mess with the phone. She keeps pushing buttons and putting the receiver to her ear. I walk over to Kuhl's remains, trying to avoid stepping in the waterfall of blood. He looks like a caricature of a slack-jawed retard from this angle, but then I get closer and see where his head was split open and a chunk was removed. I catch a glimpse of his brain and acid fills my mouth.
I'm not looking there again.
"The, uh, the landline's not working," My mother says nervously. "Can... can you try your cell phone? I think we should get him off the floor."
I stare down at the unconscious form. "Well, where?"
"I don't know, on the couch? I think?"
I keep looking, guessing if I could carry him. I rub my chin hesitantly. I don't really feel like doing anything right now, not even nothing. All of that happened so fast. My cheek stings from where he slapped me. Damn, I didn't realize he'd be this much of a prick. I guess BAWEAN deer have that reputation for a reason. Now look at the mess I'm in. I lean down and try to pick up Oski, but he's so heavy. I give up after getting his shoulders only a centimeter or two off the ground. I wonder if his name really is short for 'Oskian', or if he was just too polite to correct me.
"Alright, what the hell's going on?" Someone says as she comes in through the front door. I thought the cops must have gotten here way sooner than expected, but it's just some chick dressed kind of like a hunter. She looks at me. "Oh, hey, Taiga."
"Ken?!" I shout. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Figuring out what this idiot's up to." She deadpans as she crouches down to get a closer look. "Yep. Like I thought."
"Girl, how have you been?" I hug my old acquaintance. I wouldn't call her a friend, but she's a nice distraction from what's going on right about now. We went to elementary school together until she got expelled for drawing a picture of herself shooting the principal. It wasn't that surprising, that she did it or that she got caught. That's why I usually didn't hang out with her. I guess she found a way to use her weird violent fantasies in a productive way. "And what's with the gas mask?"
"It's so that I don't get covered in crud," she says as she leans against the wall and folds her arms. "Speaking of which," She pulls the rubber mask off of her belt and over her head.
"Don't tell me you're going to start touching Kuhl's body, Ken. That's the cops's job." I whine to try and convince her to not get us into even more complications than we're already in.
"Nah, this isn't for that," Her muffled voice replies. "Hey, real quick, can you check if this is loaded?" She pulls a strange collection of pipes and screws from under her large jacket. As I stare down the barrel, I recognize it as one of the small machine guns from the movies about the Second Global War.