| |
“WHAT DO YOU THINK THE meaning of life is?” Nel stared at her ceiling, body blissfully loose and sore on a level only sex could reach.
“Seriously? What kind of question is that?” Lin shifted and Nel was aware of the other woman’s deep brown eyes on her. Lin scoffed. “You’re serious.”
“I met someone a while ago — not anyone I’d like to meet again, but he had a point. Said life was all about searching for home, all about roots and finding where we belonged.”
“You disagreed?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I guess I thought archaeologists were all searching for something. Who we are, where we came from.”
“We’re searching, sure, but I think it’s more complex than that. I think we’re looking for where we’re going. We see where we were and where we are. Next step is the future.”
“I doubt many in this field share your thoughts.”
“I rarely do.” She allowed herself a grin at the poor joke. “So what about you?”
“I think life is about finding our place — dreaming big and finding ourselves settled in those dreams. Where we belong, so to speak, but not where we’ve been.”
“Where we’re going.”
“Yeah.” Lin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you disappointed?”
“In?”
“Yourself. For having the same idea about life as a suited-up broad from the big city.”
“I never said that.”
“Your eyes did.” Lin laughed softly. “I think you would have been disappointed then, had you realized we’re searching for the same thing.”
“Yeah, maybe. I also realized that guy had a point though. We’re sums of where we’ve been. Great or small, each piece becomes a part of us.”
“Who was he?”
“The head of Los Pobladores.”
“You had drinks with the man who organized the vandalism of your life’s work. Shit, you’re more complicated than I realized.”
Nel’s smile curled wickedly and she rolled over to straddle Lin’s hips. “Too complicated for a suited-up broad from the big city?”
Lin’s laugh rolled like distant thunder in summer, her head tilted back. “Nel, the myriad tiny things that brought me here, made me this, are far more complicated than you realize.”
Lin was unconsciously graceful, like a runner, the kind of steady strength that outlasted the sun. She traced a finger down the tattoo on Lin’s arm. She had seen earlier that it reached around her shoulder and up her spine. The awareness nudged at her thoughts again, persistent, but still able to be pushed away. “It’s like nerves. Halfway between spider-web natural and wires. It’s cool.”
“Thanks. You have any ink?”
“None. No piercings, nothing. By the time I realized earrings didn’t make me girly, I was twenty and it seemed pointless. Tattoos are gorgeous as long as the needle isn’t anywhere near my skin.”
Lin snorted. “Baby.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Of course, but what you’re really asking is how much. It burned, it stung, it tickled even at times. It was worth it, though. My brother has one just like it.”
“Where’d you get it done?”
“Back home.”
“Where’s home?”
Lin rolled her eyes. “That’s a conversation for later. I’m hungry — wanna grab a bite to eat?”
Nel allowed the subject to change without protest. She had enough secrets too, ones that would come out later, maybe, but not tonight. “Yeah, I’d like something to drink, too.”
“Bar?”
“Let’s head to Juan Pablos.” She swung herself off of Lin’s body and out of the bed, stretching. It had been a while since she was naked in front of someone, not counting skinny-dipping. The old insecurities were fading, replaced by the knowledge of her body’s strength. I’m not tall or buxom, but I’ve got killer muscle-tone.
“You’re striking.” Lin had yet to get up, curled on her side, head resting on one crooked arm. “I like strong women with rough hands and skin that’s seen some work and sun and weather.”
“Basically a sailor. Or pirate.” Nel tugged on her shorts and began digging through her bag for a tank that wasn’t bloody with dirt.
“Shovel-pirate.” Lin slid to the edge of the bed and fished through the clothes on the floor to find her underwear.
“I’m pretty sure those are looters. And I take issue with looters.” Nel finger-combed her hair into order, smiling at the sweet, musky scent on her left hand. She grabbed her phone and leaned against the dresser to watch Lin braid her hair. Lin’s fingers twisted the pieces into some beautiful order. “I never learned to braid. You make it look like magic.”
Lin laughed. “My mom taught both of us. Said even if we had short hair, the skill might come in handy. I have yet to braid anything else, but I trust she’s right.” She glanced over as she wound the braid around her head. “I could probably do yours in tiny pigtails.”
Nel grimaced and held the bedroom door open for her. “I’ll pass. Besides, I prefer to style my hair with field-gel.”
Lin led the way past the silent crew rooms and into the street. “And that would be?”
“The perfect mixture of sweat, bug-spray, sunscreen, and dirt.”
“Sexy.” Lin slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans, staring up at the sky. Nel’s boots thumped a rumbled echo to the whisper of the other woman’s sandals. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Nel followed her gaze. The night was quiet and clear, the stars incredibly bright, and the Milky Way a winding river against the void. “Yeah. Makes you feel small and big all at once.”
“We’re such a small, yet important piece to it all. Like the tiny microbes in the soil — unseen but integral. Makes me homesick, sometimes.”
“The stars?” Nel tilted her heat at the woman.
“Yeah. All that emptiness with potentially millions of other worlds, all just as alone.” Lin shrugged.
“Ever see the movie Contact?”
“If there aren’t other worlds, other people, 'it’d be an awful waste of space.’ That movie, and the scene on Vega, feels like my family’s mantra.” Lin smiled, but her eyes darkened with something close to sorrow.
“Dude, your family is the best.” Nel ducked into the bar after Lin. The noise swelled, enveloping them like warm rain. “Grab a table, I’ll get drinks. What’re you in the mood for?”
“Something with bite. Surprise me.”
Nel wound through the tables and leaned over the bar. “Hey, man. Two shots of cuervo, a glass of your shandy and a stout.”
“Where you sitting?”
“Blue table by the window.”
The bartender glanced over and grinned. “Got a looker tonight, eh?”
“Eyes, off, man, she’s with me.” Nel grinned and headed back to where Lin had found a two-person seat by one of the dirty picture windows. Partway across the room she caught sight of two figures on the other side of the street. After being held at gunpoint, she’d recognize Emilio anywhere. His face was lined and shadowed with more than night. Before rage clouded her thought, a tiny voice told her that it was regret that darkened the circles under his eyes. The other man’s back faced her, but he nodded and jerked a thumb towards the bar. Emilio glanced up and met her gaze.
“Fuck this.” Nel sprinted through the rear door of the bar, muscles unused since high school track meets grumbling awake. Adrenaline temporarily erased pulled muscles and screaming tendons. The morning would feel differently.
She pounded up to her room and grabbed her pack. Mikey was right to carry knives all the time. All she had was a pocketknife and a 3cm blade wasn’t much against killers. Her shaking hand found the worn handle of Mikey's Dirt-o-mancer. She momentarily congratulated herself on taking the time that morning to sharpen the tool. She tucked it into her back pocket with her cell and wallet before climbing up into the hills behind the house. She circled the town, listening for the sounds of a fight or commotion. Lin was smart, and Nel hoped the other woman knew enough to book it back to the house. I should have told her to run. She shouldn’t get caught up in this. She’s clever, but this is different. Even I’m not rough enough to be ready for this mess. The uneven dirt tumbled down-slope in the wake of her boots and she slowed. The restaurant was just a few houses away and the large shed just beyond. Nel’s eyes burned with manic anger.
She gripped her trowel and eased herself down the hill towards the shed. The windows were blacked-out, but light glimmered where the paint had flaked from the glass. Her shoulders groaned as she lowered herself from the retaining wall silently. She pressed herself against the shed’s sidewall, chest heaving. The night was cool and still. Goosebumps flared across her bare legs. Should have grabbed pants. There were dozens of “should have” thoughts tumbling through her head, but most were too serious for her to consider without panicking.
The wood at her back was dry and rough, splinters sliding through her shirt and skin. She forced herself to breathe through her mouth to stay quiet as she inched towards the window. If she could see in, they might notice the black of night outside becoming the pale of her shirt. Should have worn my black one. She crouched until she could peer in without pressing her eye to the hole in the paint.
Whatever she expected to see, it wasn’t Lin holding a weapon at Bastian’s head.