Skin Deepby Robert S. Tyler |
Part 1 appears in this issue. |
| conclusion |
This time he did actually have to think about it. He didn’t notice the hum or the pain. “You ever see those old Sinbad movies from the sixties?”
Hum. “Yeah.”
“I always loved those. Man... I mean they got a white guy to play Sinbad, so that’s... John Wayne played Ghengis Khan, right?”
“Mm.”
Pain.
Brian winced. His back felt sweaty, and his armpits smelled awful. He felt embarrassed that the artist had to be so close to them. “Just... it was like one crazy thing after another in those movies. Skeletons, Minotaurs, six-armed statues with swords, saber-tooth tigers, it was just crazy, you know? Saving princesses, sailing the sea, much more fun than real life. It’s fantasy.”
Hum.
“Guess I’m trying to bring some fantasy here.”
Pain.
“She’s beautiful, but she’s also not real. The clothes kind of make her extra not-real.”
Hum. “You sure about that?”
“What?” Pain. “She’s not real.”
“Looks pretty real to me. She’s on your arm forever now.”
Brian shrugged with his chin. “You know what I mean.”
Hum.
Pain.
* * *
The shot echoed in the night as Brian watched his foe fall. The pistol smoked in his scarred fingers. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her wrist with his burnt hand.
Leaping nimbly over the spice barrels, Brian looked around the courtyard. “Down,” he said, pulling her to the ground and covering her with his body as the musket balls sliced overhead. He pulled her up as they reloaded. “Now, which way is my boat?”
“The harbor’s there,” she said, pointing away from the guards.
“Thank you,” he said, twirling the sword. He charged the guards.
She watched awestruck as they raised their muskets at him again. He ran closer, closer, sliding low at the last minute, and swinging his sword out. She heard the scream of the guard as he fell, holding the reddening stain on his ankle. The two remaining guards pointed their weapons at him. Brian knelt up, driving the blade deep into the gut of one, while using his free hand to grab the end of the musket and aim it at the third. In the guard’s death grimace he squeezed the trigger; the musket balls eviscerated the other’s insides.
Brian stood up, letting go of the gun and letting the sword slide out. He kicked the first still-writhing guard, knocking him out. “Horses,” he said, running, catlike, to a small door in the courtyard wall.
“Your ship is the other way,” she said, following him through the narrow hall. More guards rushed out behind them.
Brian jumped out of the hall, sword in hand. A guard on horseback flashed his own blade, charging them. “Here we go,” he said kneeling down. He picked up a rock in his hand, tossing it once up in the air. “Feels fine,” he said, rolling it with his fingers.
She hid behind his broad shoulders. Through the hall, she heard the angry cries. In front of her, the horse hooves became quicker.
“David.” Brian twisted her out of the way at the last moment as he pivoted around from the charge. Using his momentum he jumped up, kicking off the wall and throwing the stone at the back of the rider’s head. “Goliath.” It thudded loudly but dully, and the warrior slumped off. “Philistine,” he said as the horse slowed to a stop.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand gently in his own. They mounted the horse as the guards filed in, riding off as the first gunshots echoed in the night air.
“The docks are east,” she said over the rushing wind.
“That’s why we’re going west,” he grinned. They sped off, listening to the horse’s hooves kicking up sand.
* * *
His foot stepped onto the white sand and gravel. The sun was blinding him. “Wha–?” he muttered, stumbling out. Crouching, he felt the open car door next to him. In his hand (no scars?) he felt the keys jabbing into his palm. Heart pounding, he stood up, checking for damage on the car. Did I hit anyone? Oh God, please don’t let–
“Hi Brian.”
He turned, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the daylight. Laura. “Hi,” he said, waving back in her general direction.
“Are you coming?”
He looked back inside his car. Dark. Quiet. Normal.
“Yeah.”
* * *
“Are you hurt from the gun?”
“No,” he showed her his scarred palms. “Used to it. Muzzle burn doesn’t hurt.”
She looked back at the city. “They’ll be coming.”
Brian stopped the horse gently. They looked back over the city. “I doubt it.”
“Wh–” She was cut off as a dull thud echoed in the background. There were cloudy sparks from somewhere in the water. Screams and shattering stone echoed inside the city. Quickly the cannons reloaded and fired. The rhythmic tapping made her heart skip in her breast. “You’re attacking it?”
“Our business was not in the town.”
“It was the town.”
“Precisely,” he said.
“Pirate.”
He looked back at her. “I prefer Privateer. Sanctioned by one power to dismantle, attack, and obstruct another country’s ships.” He nodded. “Or city.”
Brian felt her hands move up his solid torso. “And me?”
“Spoils of war.” He could feel the look she gave him without looking back at her. “Am I not eloquent?”
“You are not.” He realized his body was relaxed, and had been since she wrapped her arms around his waist. He straightened his broad back. “But why?” she asked, adjusting for his newly-rigid posture. “You must have wanted to get out of there before this.” She nodded and another rattle of cannonfire burst out.
He shrugged. “Nothing better to do.”
“You’re an odd man...”
“Brian.”
“Brian.”
He looked back. “What is your name?”
* * *
“Are you going to name her?”
“I don’t know.”
Hum.
“Most people give them names.”
Pain.
“Maybe when I see her,” he said, still not looking.
* * *
“Okay, we’ve got some burgers and dogs being cooked. Yes, tofu burgers for Christine are here.” There was some very light laughter among the staff. Seagulls cawed at varying distances and waves foamed, filling the air with sound and spray. People were stripping down all around Brian, though a handful had changed into beach clothes since the office.
Do I take it off? People will see it. Oh God, this isn’t good. They’re gonna think I’m a perv. A harem girl? Great plan, Brian. Why not just get a schoolgirl or a nurse and show ALL your neurotic imp–
“Bry-Guy,” Eric said, tapping him on the arm again. “You wanna lose the uniform?”
“I–”
“We’re going for a swim.” He pointed over to a small group of people milling around, walking in the general direction of the water. Flashbacks to Charlie Espizito and his six-pack clawed Brian’s mind. “Want to come?”
He scanned the group.
Laura.
“Yeah,” he said. He noticed his hands were shaking as he touched the first button.
* * *
“Done.”
Brian looked down. “She’s beautiful.”
A smile. “Glad you like it.” The gloves snapped off. Brian twisted his arm, looking at the way the light gleamed on his skin, illuminating her. She was sitting on some invisible ledge, one long leg dangling over, while the other rested underneath her body.
“She’s perfect.”
“Thought of a name yet?”
* * *
“Maeve,” she said as he turned the horse away.
“Maeve,” he repeated. As they wandered from the siege, the stars grew brighter.
“Should we return to the boat?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “My contract with them is up.” He looked back at her. “We could try for Spain.”
“Perhaps.” She came closer to him, twisting slightly. He could feel her hair on his shoulders; they relaxed, despite his best efforts not to let them sag as she pressed her skin against his back.
* * *
“It’ll peel for about two weeks.” The bandage covered his bicep. “Then you can get it wet.”
“Thanks,” Brian said, sliding his shirt back on.
“Are you happy with it?”
“Extremely.”
“Who’s the first person you’re gonna tell?”
He began buttoning it. “Don’t know. I dunno how they’re gonna take it.”
“Why’s it matter?”
Brian shrugged.
“You wanted it. You got it. If it’s real to you, other people will feel it.”
“Maybe,” Brian said, adjusting his shirt.
* * *
“Dude.” Brian didn’t look at Eric’s reaction as the shirt touched the beach blanket. “That’s... that’s sweet.”
“Thanks,” Brian said, mildly smiling.
“How long you had that?”
“Not long.” They were making their way over to the group.
“It’s beautiful. Whoever did it did a great job.”
“Yeah,” he said. The rest of the group had slowed. “Thanks.” Brian fought the urge to show it off. He felt like the kid with the new bike on the playground. His face felt like it should be red. He wondered if he was keeping it from blushing or if it was actually protecting itself. The group closed in as they saw Eric’s excitement.
“Wow.”
“That’s beaut–”
“Where’d you get it done?”
“...colors look so–”
“teen-forties. She’s–”
“Realistic.”
“That’s neat, Brian.” He recognized Laura’s voice.
“Thanks.”
“My grandfather had one of those on his plane.”
“What, like, during World War II?”
“Yeah.” Her hair was straight, even without the clip. It covered the blue shoulder strap of her bathing suit. “Is that your only one?”
“Yeah.” Voices spiked softly around him as their feet touched the freezing water. “I kind of like that it’s on my arm. It’s sort of hidden. Like people can only see it when I want them to. It’s not for everybody.”
“I’ve seen it now,” she said.
“Yeah.” He let the water wash over his knees. “You’re not everybody.” She laughed as a wave came in, splashing them both. Smiling and squinting from the sun, Brian dove lightly into the water, feeling his arm dip beneath the surface, covering the tattoo. He watched it below the water for a moment, then dipped under again, holding his breath as a wave slapped forward.
* * *
“Spain’s always an option,” she said.
“We don’t have many,” he said, urging the horse away from the city. “We have no home.”
She moved her hands up over his heart. “We could find one.”
“The world’s a big place.”
“It is.” She kissed his ear lightly. “We’ll find our way.”
He pretended to not feel the kiss. “It could take a while.”
She slid back, holding him tightly. “I’m in no hurry.”
“Neither am I.”
The couple rode on, leaving the town behind them.
Copyright © 2009 by Robert S. Tyler
