Battery City Rebels: Part One

Later that night, Indigo headed back down to the basement to get some sleep. She curled up beneath the scratchy blankets and tried to will herself to sleep. But her mind was on edge after spending the day at the church and going through everything that once belonged to her and her father. She’d learned a long time ago to not hold much value in sentimental items. There may come a time when they’d have to leave at a moment’s notice, and it would be best to not be tied down by sentimental objects. She carried her father’s pendant around her neck, which was the only thing that mattered. If any of his possessions carried a piece of his soul, it would be that necklace. She could give it to the mailbox shrine and hope the Phoenix Witch took his soul to the afterlife.

She knew that Midnight would have wanted her to give away his things since he had no use for them now. But it hurt nonetheless to know that someone else would wear his shirts, use his things, and never know the importance of the item’s previous owner. She supposed it was that way with all things. Who was the last person to wear her boots? Were they important too? The boots a gift from a parent or a loved one? Carried for sentimental value until the person was ghosted and the boots scavenged? Somehow finding their way to someone who didn’t care to notice where they came from or what made them special? Just that they fit. That was the only significance of them now.

The pain of it made sleep difficult. It ached deep inside her until she finally began to drift off. Only to wake up a short while later to the light flicking on above her head. She sat up quickly, ready to jump into action in case this was an alarm.

But it was just Ghoul lugging something into the room. A blanket was thrown over his shoulders, making him look almost comically beastly.

“You know, you should be more alert when you’re sleeping. I made a lot of noise the whole way down here. Kobra was yelling at me,” he said. She shaded her eyes, wincing from the sudden brightness of the light.

“I am alert. I just knew it was you.” He tossed the object onto the floor, making an even bigger noise. And then shut the door, obviously not caring if he woke up his sleeping friends across the hall.

“Bullshit.”

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t take another night on that couch. I know I’m still young, but I don’t think anyone’s spine is supposed to be shaped like that when they sleep. I’d rather sleep in the dirt.” It was a cot, she realized. He must have taken it from the church. Midnight had several of them just in case anyone ever needed to stay for long-term recovery. He pried it open and set it up on the floor beside the bed.

“Those cots aren’t much better,” she informed him.

“Better than springs poking me in the ass. Besides, I hate sleeping upstairs. It makes me feel vulnerable. I know no one can see in the windows at night with the lights off. But the doors make me feel exposed. I like to have more walls between me and the entrance.”

“Makes it a little hard to get out if there’s a fire.”

“I’d rather die in a fire than at the other end of a Drac’s gun. And the backdoor is right next to the basement door. Someone could easily get down here and out, and I’d never know. You’re obviously not very alert when you sleep.” She watched him silently for a moment as he made himself a bed.

“Why do you care?” He set a misshapen pillow on the cot and turned back to her.

“Well, one, this is my home. If anyone can get in, that’s a problem. Two, there’s a little girl upstairs that we all vowed to die to protect. And three, you know damn well why I care what happens to you.” He looked sleepy and grumpy. In a way that suggested he probably had managed to fall asleep until the pain became too much.

So she just stared back, willing him to say something else. He didn’t. He went to turn the light off, sending her back into blindness now that she’d adjusted to the light. She heard him lie down on the cot and pull the blanket over himself. So she laid back down on the pillow, keeping her eyes on his shape in the dark.

“You don’t know me well enough to care about me,” she stated.

“Maybe not,” he admitted. “But I’m attracted to you. And maybe that’s making me stupid, but I still don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Waste of a breeder?” He laughed.

“No, it’s obviously that sharp tongue.”

“Just wait until you see what else I can do with my tongue.” There was a pause. She didn’t know what he was thinking.

“See? You say things like that and then wonder why I don’t want you to die.” She smiled, grateful that he couldn’t see it.

“Then I think the two of us might be in trouble.”

“No fucking shit.”

She moved onto her back and tried to go back to sleep. He said nothing else. And she wondered if he was awake. And if he was, what was keeping him up? Was he as aware of her as she was of him? Or had he drifted off the second the conversation ended?

In the morning, they woke to Kobra’s door opening and closing across the hall. Fun Ghoul immediately got up and went to turn the light on. He’d taken his shirt off in the middle of the night, exposing all of his tattoos. Some were clearly things he’d picked up either before or during the war, even though he must have been so young. But others obviously came from the aftertimes. They were symbols and words that only made sense to the culture that had grown from the ashes of the old world.

He caught her staring. A dark eyebrow rose in question.

“Tattoos,” she explained.

“Right. I’m sure.”

“You’re a little full of yourself, you know that? Very confident. To the point of being conceited.”

“It’s not like I have much to lose, is it?” He smiled and pulled his shirt back on. “You could be full of me too if you wanted.” Then he winked at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Depends on how well you play your cards, Ghoul.” Now he smirked. He went to fold up his blanket when someone knocked on the door. Kobra didn’t wait for an answer. It popped open, and he stuck his head in, glancing at the two of them.

“Damn,” he said. “We were taking bets on how long it would take for you guys to go at it.”

“Get the fuck out of here, asshole,” Ghoul said. So the door shut again. Indigo waited until she heard the creak of Kobra’s feet on the ladder.

“You didn’t take part in this bet, did you?” she asked. Hoped.

“No, but I did hear them whispering about it last night. Poison didn’t join in either, if that makes you feel any better.” Of course he didn’t. Because he didn’t like her.

“Tell them not to waste their time.” He gathered up the folded blanket.

“I must not be playing my cards right then.”

“We’ll see.”

“You might want to get up and get dressed.”

“What’s the plan for today?”

“I don’t know yet. We have more inventory than usual. It might be a good idea to restock food supplies. Get some of this stuff out to the masses.”

“I um—I have an idea. If you don’t mind.” He turned to face her, looking down at her lying rumpled in his bed. Her shoulders were bare, showing off her own tattoos. Large designs of flowers that he hadn’t seen in so long, he forgot what they were called. One was blue—the other red.

“What’s that?” he asked. She lifted the pendant on her neck.

“I know it’s superstitious, but—it’s the closest thing to a funeral I can give him. I’d like to go to the mailbox shrine.” He nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I’ll let them know. I don’t know if we can do it today, but we’ll take you over there.”

“I appreciate it.” He turned to kick the cot under the table to get it out of the way.

“You gonna get out of bed?”

“I’m kind of in my underwear.”

“So?”

“So I’m in my underwear.”

“It’s not like I’ve never seen a woman’s legs before.”

“I’m aware of that. Just don’t make any stupid comments.”

“You got it.”

She threw the blankets off and forced herself to get out of bed. Her legs were bare and still sunburned. She felt a little vulnerable, knowing he was looking and not being shy about it. She wasn’t particularly tall, but neither was he. And no one had ever said anything about her legs being an attractive feature. But he looked at them nonetheless.

So she moved closer to him and set a hand on his chest. She pushed him gently against the wall, slid her knee between his legs, and ran her hands down his chest. One hooked into the front of his jeans, the other spread out over his heart. She could feel the heat of his body and the slow, shallow way he was breathing. His eyes narrowed dangerously. It had been a game for them—a slow dance. But now, she’d tipped it just a little bit. She was playing her own cards.

“You know,” she whispered, looking down at his lips and making sure he understood exactly what she was doing. “The first time I ever saw you—I thought you looked so….” She grasped the handle of his gun and pressed it beneath his chin. “Gullible,” she finished. Then she smiled and stepped back, handing the gun back out to him. “You should really be more alert when you’re turned on.”

He grinned and took the gun back. She turned and began to search for something to wear, letting the moment slip away. She’d played her own cards, and she’d won. But he was not going to let it go so quickly. When she stood back up after digging a pair of jeans out of her duffle, he was already right behind her. His chest to her back, his hands moved down her arms, all the way to her hips, and then her bare thighs. He was playing his own cards now. Taking the dance a little step further. Even more than she had. His lips touched the back of her shoulder, and she shut her eyes, just enjoying the simple pleasure of being touched.

“You know,” he said, using the same low, seductive tone she’d just used on him. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.” She moved her hand back, digging her fingers into his hair. He left a trail of kisses from her shoulder to the crook of her neck. If it was a dance, it was coming to an end. There would be no coming back after this. They’d both won. And as much as she didn’t want anyone to win a bet based on how quickly Ghoul could get her into bed, she decided she wanted to be in that bed more.

“That’s because you haven’t seen me in action yet.”

He grasped her hip and spun her around. His lips crashed into hers, and he pulled her flush against his body. She dug her fingers into his hair again. He kissed like a man hungry for something he’d been starved from. Like he was as desperate to be touched as she was.

He only broke it long enough to knock her back onto the bed. Then he was on top of her, mouth wild against hers. She wrapped her legs tight around him, locking him to her, as his fingers trailed down her body and hooked into her underwear. She released him only enough to pull at the clasp of his belt buckle. Until he pulled back and dragged her underwear down her legs. His fingers burned trails on her thighs. Enough to make her shiver. She didn’t care if the rest of the house heard them. They’d danced long enough.

Then someone stomped on the floor upstairs. A deliberate thump that sounded more like a message than an accident. He froze, fingers still tangled in her panties. They were both breathing hard, but he obviously understood something from this message. And jumped off of her.

“Shit,” he said, buckling his belt again. She yanked her underwear back up and jumped to her feet.

“What’s the matter?”

“It means something is happening. Get dressed and meet me upstairs.”

“Are you sure you want to go up there like that?” She reached for her jeans and motioned toward his. They looked uncomfortably tight now. But he just smiled and leaned in to kiss her quickly.

“We have unfinished business,” he decided and turned for the door. She scowled.

“We’ll see.”