Mandy
came out of the all-night Vurt-U-Want, clutching a bag of goodies.
Close by was a genuine dog, flesh and blood mix; the kind you don’t see much anymore. A real collector’s item. It was tethered to the post of a street sign. The sign read NO-GO. Slumped under the sign was a robo-crusty. He had a thick headful of droidlocks and a dirty handwritten card - ‘hungry n homeless. please help.’ Mandy, all twitching steps and headjerks, scurried past him. The crusty raised his sad little message ever so slightly and the thin pet dog whined.
Through the van’s window I saw Mandy mouth something at them: “Fuck off crusties. Get a life.” Something like that.
I was watching all this in the halo of the night lights. We stuck to the dark hours in those days. The Thing was on board and that was a major crime; possession of live drugs, a five year stretch guaranteed.
We were waiting in the van for the new girl. Beetle was up front, ladies’ leather gloves pulled tight onto his fingers, smeared with Vaz. He likes to feel a little bit greased when he rides. I was in the back, perched on the left-side wheel housing, Bridget on the other, sleeping. Some thin wisps of smoke were rising from her skin. The Thing-from-Outer-Space lay between us, writhing on the tartan rug. He was leaking oil and wax all over the place, lying in a pool of his own juices.
I caught a movement in the air above the parking space.
Oh shit!
Shadowcop! Broadcasting from the store wall, working his mechanisms; flickering lights in smoke. And then the flash of orange; an inpho beam shining out from the shadowcop’s eyes. It caught Mandy in its flarepath, gathering knowledge. She ducked down from the beam, banging, hard-core, on the van doors.
The dog was howling at the cop, scared by the lights.
I opened the doors a thin-girl measure. Mandy slipped through.
The dog went for the cop’s legs, twin fangs closing on nothing but mist. That dog was confused!
Mandy handed me the bag.
‘You got it?’ I asked, dragging her inside.
A tangerine flare from outside, a burning light.
‘Got some beauties,’ her answer, as she stepped over the thing, into the van.
‘You got the one?’
Mandy just looked at me.
Close by was a genuine dog, flesh and blood mix; the kind you don’t see much anymore. A real collector’s item. It was tethered to the post of a street sign. The sign read NO-GO. Slumped under the sign was a robo-crusty. He had a thick headful of droidlocks and a dirty handwritten card - ‘hungry n homeless. please help.’ Mandy, all twitching steps and headjerks, scurried past him. The crusty raised his sad little message ever so slightly and the thin pet dog whined.
Through the van’s window I saw Mandy mouth something at them: “Fuck off crusties. Get a life.” Something like that.
I was watching all this in the halo of the night lights. We stuck to the dark hours in those days. The Thing was on board and that was a major crime; possession of live drugs, a five year stretch guaranteed.
We were waiting in the van for the new girl. Beetle was up front, ladies’ leather gloves pulled tight onto his fingers, smeared with Vaz. He likes to feel a little bit greased when he rides. I was in the back, perched on the left-side wheel housing, Bridget on the other, sleeping. Some thin wisps of smoke were rising from her skin. The Thing-from-Outer-Space lay between us, writhing on the tartan rug. He was leaking oil and wax all over the place, lying in a pool of his own juices.
I caught a movement in the air above the parking space.
Oh shit!
Shadowcop! Broadcasting from the store wall, working his mechanisms; flickering lights in smoke. And then the flash of orange; an inpho beam shining out from the shadowcop’s eyes. It caught Mandy in its flarepath, gathering knowledge. She ducked down from the beam, banging, hard-core, on the van doors.
The dog was howling at the cop, scared by the lights.
I opened the doors a thin-girl measure. Mandy slipped through.
The dog went for the cop’s legs, twin fangs closing on nothing but mist. That dog was confused!
Mandy handed me the bag.
‘You got it?’ I asked, dragging her inside.
A tangerine flare from outside, a burning light.
‘Got some beauties,’ her answer, as she stepped over the thing, into the van.
‘You got the one?’
Mandy just looked at me.
