If You're The Party, I'll Be Your Poison

I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep when I heard muffled footsteps through my makeshift camp. Being the light sleeper that I am I shot up out of my sleeping bag and crashed into someone, sending us both toppling onto the ground. We landed in a tangle of limbs in the sand and my mystery guest hit the ground with an “Oomf.” I wriggled away from him as fast as I could and yanked out my ray gun but some else grabbed me from behind, sending my gun flying.

“Get off of me!” I tried to get free but his grip was iron clad.

“Not tonight, babe.”

A flashlight clicked on and whoever was holding it shined it straight in my face. “You’re from the city.” It wasn’t a question and I knew immediately that my visitors were Killjoys. A flash of color between my bursts of flashlight blindness confirmed that but I didn’t let myself relax.

“What’s it to you?”

“Were you involved in the wreck a few miles back?” Another voice broke through the darkness. I couldn’t tell how many there were because of the kid shining the flashlight in my face but I knew there was definitely more than two.

“I might have been,” I hedged just to test my boundaries. This new daring part of me had taken hold and I couldn’t shut her up no matter how much I wanted.

“By the looks of your arms and face I’d say you were,” the one holding the flashlight said and there were mutterings that I couldn’t catch. I definitely heard someone mention that I was a woman and could be useful and that sent my already unstable mind into a rebellious frenzy. The man holding me tightened his grip on my arms when I started to try and wriggle free again. His grip became so tight I thought he might snap my arm.

“What are you doing out in the middle of the desert? If Dracs had gotten to you first there’d be no hope.”

“How about you let me go and I’ll be nice,” I spat at the speaker and he chuckled.

“Right, like you’re not some City spy trying to flesh us out. I’m not falling for that.”

“Hey, Poison, she had this,” another man with a flashlight marched up to what I assumed was their leader and handed him my gun. He turned it in his hands before sticking it in the back of his jeans.

“Where’d you get the gun?”

“Why should I tell you anything? You’re not being very hospitable.”

“Kobra, let her go,” the one called Poison instructed and the iron grip dropped my arms. The blood rushed back into my limbs making them numb to my elbows and I glared up at them. Turns out, there were four of them surrounding me. I took my time waiting for the feeling to return to my hands and gathered my thoughts.

“My brother and I left the city tonight, yes. Why? I have no idea. Dracs caught up to us and ran our car off the road. They killed him and I blew it up to attract some kind of attention. I might have lived in the city for a long time, but I’m not stupid. Destruction attracts you guys like moths and I figured if I can’t go back to the City I might as well make some friends out here. I don’t know where we were going or why I just know he didn’t want me going back.”

The four men shifted around me and they leaned toward each other and began whispering. It was kind of pointless considering I’d been sitting in between them and could hear their entire conversation. Two of them wanted to leave me for the Dracs while the other two wanted to know how I ended up with my gun. Something about Reapers being long gone and my ears perked at the mention of the name Daniel had called me before he died. After a few more hushed arguments they finally made a decision and their circle loosened around me and Poison spoke up.

“You know how to cook, right?” he asked and I laughed.

“Yes.”

“And you clean, too?” another one asked.

“Will I be your maid? No.” I snapped at him but Poison stepped forward.

“What we’re asking is if you’d be willing to help us out if we take you back to base. I guess, instead of paying us money you just… give base a woman’s touch.”

The offer wasn’t horrible and I needed somewhere to sleep without fearing extermination in the open desert so I pushed myself to my feet and shrugged. “Very well. I’ll help you out if you help me out.”

“Shiny,” he watched me dust myself off before they tossed my pack at me and ushered me toward their vehicle, a heavily painted and decorated Trans Am that stood out even in the darkness. The flashlight lit up the hood of the car where a huge black spider was emblazoned on it. They squished me into the car and one of them tossed a bandana at me.

“For the trip to base. Until we know we can trust you, you should put that over your eyes.”

“Fine.” I pulled the thing over my face and tied it tightly behind my head. One of them waved his hand, the subtle shadow passing where I could see my hands if I looked at my lap.

“Can you see anything?” One of them asked.

“Just my lap. No worries.”

“Good. Let’s roll.”

Without a second thought the engine roared to life and we sped off toward whatever base these four Killjoys called home.

________________________________________________________________________

The ride was quiet and quick back to their base and I could tell they didn’t want to talk to each other with me around. It didn’t faze me much since I didn’t trust them either so instead we sat in silence listening to the static broadcast of the notorious pirate radio host Dr. Deathdefying. I listened closely to every word on the station from the banned music to his cryptic messages to the killjoys in the Zones. Their language was something I couldn’t really get a grip on and I knew it would take a while before I really caught on to the killjoy lingo.

When we finally got to base they didn’t remove my blindfold until I was fully inside. Their space was small and very close together. The place was cluttered with so much life and color I just stood there as they made themselves comfortable in the space around me. Each one of them had their own unique look and I found myself staring as they stripped their leather jackets and sprawled out on various chairs, couches and the floor.

“You don’t have to stand in the door,” the short one said from his spot on a battered love seat in the corner of the living room. I stared at him to memorize his features. He had a kind smile and a young face. He looked about sixteen but his eyes said otherwise. The hazel depths showed age and experience and his shaggy dark hair fell in clumps around his face. He was dressed in a loose black shirt, a green vest resting on the arm of his chair as he pulled a leg up to remove one of his boots.

“Yeah, we’ve got plenty of places to crash,” the tallest one of the group smiled at me from their small kitchen area. His jacket was black and emblazoned with the same black spider and American flag on their car. His face was covered in stubble and his eyes betrayed the crinkle of age. A curly streak of gray in his hair gave him away as the oldest of the group.

“Here, sit. Let me introduce you to the gang,” The one called Poison came up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. I tensed but he didn’t seem to notice because he pushed me into the room and sat me down on the couch beside a blond man with a yellow tiger printed shirt and fingerless gloves. Poison sat in front of me on the cluttered coffee table and smoothed his hands through his bright red hair. A few streaks of color lined his defined jaw from sweat and the hint of dark drown stubble matched the closely cut sides of his hair. He’d obviously kept his hair in a Mohawk like style before it got too long. The blue Dead Pegasus jacket he’d unzipped revealed a simple black t-shirt but the yellow ray gun still strapped to his hip wasn’t lost on me.

“I’m Party Poison,” he smiled and pointed to himself. “That’s Korba Kid,” he motioned to the blond beside me who flashed a quick closed lipped smile before picking up a Murder magazine beside Poison’s thigh and flipped through the pages.

Poison pointed over my shoulder at the curly haired man who’d sat down by the door and was strumming a guitar. “That’s Jet Star.”

He waved and smiled before returning to his strumming and I glanced back to Party Poison. He pointed over his shoulder with a smirk and said, “And that’s Fun Ghoul, the one who got a little flashlight happy in the desert.”

“Nice to know that, thanks.”

“You got an alias? Or a real name?” Fun Ghoul asked, kicking off his second boot and pulling a radio transmitter into his lap.

“Yes.”

“And?”

The four men looked up at me and I blushed. Not even in the City did I get much attention from men other than my brother. He’d refused to have me married so they delegated me as unfit for child bearing and stuck me with the mechanics. But I knew I was fertile enough to raise a family. My body still functioned like the average female but his word was law as the sole man of our household so I remained celibate and untouched.

My cheeks flushed under their expectant stares and I folded my hands in my lap and stared at them. “I don’t think giving you my name is a safe thing to do.”

“Smart girl,” Fun Ghoul muttered and I glanced up to meet his eyes.

“Then what should we call you?” Jet Star asked and they all took a moment to wonder.

Telling them my real name was just as dangerous as me learning theirs so I figured it was a fair trade. Taking the moment of silence I delved into my own mind trying to remember anything that would help them put a name to my face. When nothing came Poison pulled my gun from the seat of his pants and held it up in the light.

“Well, this means you’re a Reaper.” He pointed to the scythe symbol on the handle.

“That can’t be right though. There hasn’t been a Reaper since the start of the war.” Fun Ghoul piped up but Jet Star cut him off.

“She said she didn’t steal it, though.”

They all rounded on me once again and I bit my lip. Never had I felt so scrutinized.

“Where did you say you got this?” Poison demanded.

“My brother. He gave it to me before the Dracs got us. After we crashed. It’s my gun. I know that much.”

He watched me for a second before nodding and spinning the gun a few times around his finger. “Did he tell you anything about it? Where he’d gotten it? How he’d gotten it?”

I shook my head. “All I know is that my brother had it and gave it to me. That’s my gun I just feel it. Although, he did call me something before he died.”

“And that was?” Ghoul asked.

“Rev?”

“Short for…?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

“There’s gotta be more than that.” Fun Ghoul shook his head.

I didn’t want to disappoint them but my still partially medicated brain wasn’t giving me anything. I felt the tears prickle my eyes and bowed my head to keep them from seeing my weakness. All I could think about was my dying brother. Seeing the life leave his body and the monumental rage I felt just knowing I couldn’t have prevented it. I needed to know who I was and why we had been forced out of the city in the first place.

“You guys seem to know about Reapers. What are they?”

“More like who are they,” Jet Star muttered from behind me. He moved across the room and took a seat on the floor between Fun Ghoul’s chair and the couch. He rested his hands behind his head and looked at me.

“Reapers were the most dangerous Killjoys out there at the start of the war. They were a famous family who got wiped out after Korse began his reign of terror. The first of the Reapers was a guy named Ted Swanson. He and his brothers took out more Dracs and Scarecrows than any of us. They perfected weapons and fought until Korse captured one of them out of pure luck and corrected his family. Their reign ended, we took over and we haven’t seen a Reaper since.”

My heart froze just listening to him explain the origins of this Reaper clan and I bit my lip. Poison noticed before the rest f them and leaned forward. He placed a hand on my knee and squeezed.

“You know something.”

The butterflies in my stomach were enough to tell me to deflect until I could gather my thoughts. So I shook my head and kept my eyes on anything but the four men staring at me. Poison and Fun Ghoul shared a silent glance before the smaller man stood and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Well, until you can remember I guess we’ll just call you Rev.”

“Okay.”

“Now, some medical questions,” he muttered and marched over to me and took my face in his hands. “Have you withdrawn yet?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” I stuttered, trying to prevent him from feeling the hot blush on my cheeks from his sudden contact. It wasn’t every helpful that all four of them were extremely attractive to my virgin eyes and even the slightest sideward glance from them sent a rush of butterflies through me. I had to fight to push the fluttery teenaged hopeless romantic out of my head and focus on survival and remembrance as Fun Ghoul stared into my eyes, his thumbs lifting my eyelids.

“No, you’re still slightly medicated. No worries. You’ll be clean in a few days. The rest of the meds need to wash from your system. It’s gonna suck, but once you’re free you’ll remember more and BL/ind’s hold on you will be completely gone.”

“That sounds refreshing,” I mumbled and Ghoul finally let me go. He stared at me and chewed the inside of his lip before turning to Poison and Kobra Kid.

“Once she’s free she’ll need a new wardrobe. You think you guys can scrounge some clothes from somewhere?”

Both men nodded and Ghoul kept talking. “And she’ll need somewhere to sleep.”

The room went quiet and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks again. It didn’t look like there was much space for them let alone a stranger and a woman at that. They all glanced around at each other before their eyes settled back on me. I caught Poison’s eyes first and he smiled crookedly and sighed.

“She can use my bed until we figure out what to do.”

“Then it’s settled.” Ghoul stood and picked up his boots. “If she starts withdrawal let me know and we’ll move her to my room until she’s clean.”

“You got it.” Poison saluted him as he moved toward a door behind the kitchen.

“Each man gradually gathered whatever clothing they’d shed upon arriving and moved toward respective bedrooms. Jet Star disappeared into a tiny room decorated with old record covers all over the walls a few guitars hanging above a beat up dresser. Kobra’s room was littered with tons of reading material from magazines to old bound books and his walls were decorated with knick-knacks of all types. Posters and pictures and magazine cut outs. I’d only got a quick glance before he slammed the door behind him and then it was just Party Poison and me.

He stripped off his jacket fully and stood up, moving toward the last door off the living room. The door was decorated with pages from sketchbooks depicting all sorts of interesting hand-drawn characters. The symbol on the back of his jacket poked out from beneath the sheets of paper. It looked to have been spray-painted onto the wood.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” he shrugged and pushed the door open to reveal a queen sized bed with rumpled sheets and a small closet. Every inch of the walls were covered with more drawings and magazine clippings like Kobra’s accept his walls were more artful. I’d never seen so much color in one place and my eyes couldn’t seem to focus on just one thing. I turned around to look back out into the living room to give my eyes a rest when I noticed the four posters hanging beside the door.

Each one had the blazing red X beneath the black “EXTERMINATE” bar over their eyes and I knew who they were. They were the Fabulous Killjoys. The men that Korse wanted dead most. The band of miscreants who destroyed a large portion of the City out of spite and even more of the Zones to keep the Dracs from venturing too far into the desert. These men were the most dangerous men in the Zones and felt safer than ever in their little base.

“Rev? You okay?” Poison asked from behind me and I turned to smile at him.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

He nodded and motioned to his bed, “It’s messy but I wasn’t expecting a guest. You sleep here and I’ll take the couch in the living room until we can figure this out.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want to impose…”

He shook his head, “No, that’s not right. You sleep in here. If you start feeling weird or anything, just yell. Ghoul has a bit of medical knowledge under his belt so he’s the one who’ll take care of you when you withdrawal.”

I nodded, “Thank you again, Party Poison. If you hadn’t found me I’d probably be dead.”

He smiled crookedly again and gathered a pillow and a stack of blankets from his closet. As he slipped past me to move into the living room our arms gently brush sending a rush of nervous energy through me. Our eyes met for a split second, his irises a pretty mix of brown and green. He didn’t stop moving, though, and stepped into the living room.

“You should sleep, you look tired,” he muttered, looking down at his dirty socks. His hair fell in his face with an air of innocence and I bit my lip.

“Yeah, I am.”

He nodded and I shuffled awkwardly into the bedroom. “Well, goodnight.”

“’Night.”

That night curled up in Party Poison’s bed was the first night in a long time that I slept peacefully. I felt safe and my mind at ease. I knew I was in the right place.