The soft light generated by the incandescent bulbs high above my head illuminates the skin on my folded hands. They rest on my lap, intertwined together and entirely unmoving. At this point, I’ve intimately learned every crevice, fold and recess of the flesh overlapping my muscle and bone, because my eyes haven’t gone anywhere but my folded hands for nearly half an hour.
I… killed a man.
I mean, I didn’t break his neck myself, but I stabbed that baryonyx in the leg, and that gave Pierce the opening to…
My hands finally release themselves, rising to my forehead. My fingers run through my hair, upheaving glistening droplets of sweat that seem endless. Even this medical clinic waiting room is a damned oven in this days-long heat wave. I shudder involuntarily, suppressing the urge to scream as the words keep repeating themselves in my head.
I killed a man. I killed a man. I killed—
“Hey, kiddo. How ya holdin’ up?”
The sudden voice and clap on my back from a colossal, firm palm cause me to jump. I spin toward my assailant, raising my arms reflexively to protect against what my brain convinces me is about to be a lethal assault, but instead I’m greeted by the warm smile of Charles Rossi. He isn’t offended by my skittish and defensive gesture in the slightest.
“It’s alright, Samuel. Everythin’s gonna be fine. Just take a breath, okay?”
I do as he asks, releasing my posture and drawing in slow, steady breaths to calm my heartbeat. My shock quickly shifts to embarrassment and fear; I didn’t even notice the triceratops sit next to me. If he had been an enemy, perhaps that t-rex that we left out cold or some friend of Murphy’s who came across the carnage we caused… I could be dead right now.
As dead as that bartender. As dead as Murphy.
Except for the two of us, the small waiting area is empty. The last thing Pierce said to me before he passed out in the car was the address of this small clinic. I would have taken the two of them to the Metropolitan Hospital, but I assume he had a good reason for wanting to come here. My best guess is they know the folks who run this clinic, and maybe those folks wouldn’t ask questions.
Charles clears his throat. “I spoke with the doctor. Pierce is still under. He lost a good amount of blood, but he’s stitched and bandaged up. Martin is awake, and the doctor is convinced that he doesn’t have a concussion. However, the nasty lump on his head seems to be preventing him from recalling most of what transpired.”
I blink. It’s the first time I’d heard the diplodocus that’s been extending kindness to me referred to as anything but Marty. My mind wanders to the small box containing that crescent moon pendant that he gave me. Told me to give it to the gal I’m dating. I feel my cheeks redden slightly, but before I can think on it any further Charles continues.
“Samuel. What, exactly, happened today?”
My eyes meet his again. He wears an expression of stern authority. I can’t tell if there’s concern behind those purple orbs, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he wants me to answer, and answer truthfully.
I oblige his request, proffering every detail I remember from the moment we walked into Murphy’s 8-Ball Lounge until our conversation here. I recall the dingy lighting, smoke-caked surfaces and surly demeanors of all three dinosaurs that were… handled. The bartender’s erratic movements, the tyrannosaurus’s constant glances at Pierce before he crept forward to attack, and Murphy’s lackadaisical attitude leading up to their assault.
I told Charles that I called out to warn Pierce of the t-rex’s lunge, but after that… I hid. I was terrified. Creatures twice my size were pummeling and lacerating one another not even twenty feet away. I didn’t have a gun, and it was literally my first day on this job. Hell, it still is my first day. What was I supposed to do against power and fury like what I witnessed?
It wasn’t until the fighting was nearly done that I was able to find my feet. The tyrannosaurus was unconscious. So was Marty, though I worried that he might have been more than unconscious given how hard that bottle smacked into his skull, and the deinonychus bartender’s neck had been broken mid-flight toward Pierce. But Murphy, who had been briefly knocked out, was back on his feet and tore into Pierce’s exposed back, bringing him to his knees. The baryonyx was gloating over Pierce when I stepped out from behind one of the unbroken pool tables.
I lower my head in shame before speaking honestly to my boss of exactly one day. “I ran toward the door. Murphy was so distracted with Pierce that he didn’t see or hear me. My hand was on it, ready to push it open and sprint down the street in any direction, to end up any place but there. I… I was scared, Charles. I knew that if I tried to intervene, I’d end up dead.”
He looks at me without emotion; neither sympathy nor scorn reside in his eyes. “I shall guess by the fact that the three of you are still alive that you did not run.”
“No. I didn’t. And for the life of me, I can’t tell you why.” Going against every fiber of my survival instinct, I speak candidly. “Pierce hates my guts. He doesn’t view me as anything but an inferior species. He spent all day making snide remarks and instilling a sense of worthlessness in me. Marty’s actually respectful and even showed me a kind gesture, but he clearly takes his marching orders from Pierce and from you. And you, Charles…” My conscience screams at me to dash toward the exit of this clinic, to escape from this place like I so desperately wanted to escape the pool hall, but I clench my fists and press on. “You offered me a job and more money than I’d ever made before, when refusing the offer would mean my death. What choice did I have? And now that I’m your employee, you’ve saddled me with the man who was holding a gun to my head just last night and talking about how much he wanted my brains on the gravel beneath my knees. So why the hell did I grab a pool cue, break it over Murphy’s back and skewer him in the leg? Why’d I save Pierce and Marty’s lives when my own seems to be of so little value to them, and to you?”
Charles crosses his arms and lowers his eyelids. I watch the gears turn in his head as he processes my words. His breathing is steady, giving the illusion of a monk deep in meditative thought. After a moment, his eyes reopen and refocus on me. “I have risen to the rank I presently hold within the Herdsters for one reason, and one reason alone: I am a good judge of character. Those who report to me, those who respect me, those with whom I break bread and share drinks… they are all people who I value and respect in return. I do not offer respect to just anyone, and you are someone with whom I am still very unacquainted. But there’s a reason I offered you this job. It wasn’t to keep you quiet, or keep you on a leash. It’s because I could tell that you are a good man, and someone capable of loyalty and respect.”
I glance at the floor, pondering his words. Is that all true? I mean, I think I’m a good person, but… “I… killed a man, Charles. How does that make me a good man?”
He purses his lips and lowers his brow. The upward-curved horn on the tip of his snout glistens in the soft illumination of the room. “You acted in self defense. You protected the lives of Pierce and Martin. It was a regrettable situation, and I am sorry you were put into that spot, but the nature of the world we live in is that sometimes we must defend ourselves against wickedness.” I fidget in my chair before he continues. “The Herdsters offer a valuable service to many organizations all around not just this city, but the entire country. We are an organization of justice that fights for the rights of those who have no voice by themselves. We stand against the tyranny of employers who would underpay, overwork and abuse their labor force. Because of that… we make enemies. There are people who do not want us to succeed, and we must occasionally defend ourselves from those attacks.”
I think back to Murphy and his reasoning for attacking us. It seemed like he just wanted the money we had collected, but… was there more to it than that? And more importantly… “Is that what happened with that human in the alley? Eggsy?”
Charles’s expression almost imperceptibly sours. He lets out a sigh. “What happened with Egbert was regrettable, and Pierce acted out of line. Egbert should have been brought in and questioned, not handled in such an inelegant manner on the street. We are not murderers or criminals. But… to answer your question more directly: yes. Egbert was an enemy of the Herdsters. He tried to steal money not from us, but from those that we serve. That was money from people like Sal Fontana, dues they contribute so that we can help them when they need our help.”
I bite my lip, feeling my hands tremble in my lap. “Charles… I just don’t know if I can do this. After today, after what I did… I don’t know if I’ve got it in me.”
He places a gentle hand on my shoulder and offers a warm smile. “Samuel. Despite what you may think, you aren’t being forced to work for me. I want you to be my employee, but you aren’t a prisoner here.”
“But you’ve got my address. My social security number. What would stop you from—“
He lowers his snout, peering at me as though over the top of glasses he does not wear. “Are you someone who’s trying to bring harm to the Herdsters or our clients?”
“N-no, of course not.”
“Then there’s nothing for you to be worried about.” He rustles my shoulder slightly with the hand that still rests on it, clapping it once before withdrawing his arm. “I’d ask that you take the night to think it over, at least. If tomorrow comes around and you’re still convinced that this isn’t the path for you, I’ll call Sal and get you your old job back. I’ll even talk to him about getting you a raise, though I doubt you’ll make the same there as you would here, even with a pay bump.”
I do my best to return his smile. “Thank you, Charles. I’ll… think it over.”
He places his hands on his knees, hoisting himself up to his feet. With a few steps he crosses the waiting area, peering around the corner into one of the two small exam rooms. He gives who I presume to be the nurse in Pierce’s room a small wave and nod of acknowledgment before turning my way once more. “Regardless of what you might think of your character or your actions tonight, you saved the lives of these two men. You had the choice to run away in that pool hall… but you chose goodness and justice. That more than proves I was right in my assessment of you, Samuel. Have a good night.” With that, he pushes through the clinic’s exit toward the sunset-soaked street, the bell suspended above the door emitting a brassy jingle in his wake.
I resume peering at my clasped hands; they still tremble, but at least they’ve come somewhat under my control. After a few minutes, I rise from my seat, cautiously moving toward the same room Charles had poked his head into.
Pierce lies on an examination bed properly sized for his gargantuan form, close to eight feet long and about half as wide. His tail dangles off the side and the spikes on its tip rest on the linoleum floor. If it weren’t for the steady thrumming of the heart rate monitor attached to him, I’d mistake his motionless sleep for rigor mortis. Numerous sutures and bandages cover his arms and shoulders, many slightly discoloring themselves with the further leakage they prevent.
A compsognathus turns toward me, brushing the bangs that poke from beneath her nurse’s cap away from her cheek. “He’s still unconscious and likely will be for some time. We’re keeping Mr. De Luca here for the evening, too, as a precaution. You’re free to leave, though, Mr. Lawson.”
I give the nurse a nod before turning toward the door. Before I can leave the building, another voice catches my attention. It’s quieter and a bit more labored than normal. “Hey, Sam.”
I take a few more steps down the hall and peek through an open door to a second exam room. Marty lies on his side on another impressively-sized bed, holding an enormous ice pack to the top of his head. With his posture and long neck, it almost seems like he cradles his own face between his arms. I give a weak wave. “Hey, Marty. How you feelin’?”
He smiles with some effort. “Like I got hit over the fuckin’ head with a bottle of booze. At least, that’s what I think happened. I can barely remember a damn thing.”
I step into the room. No nurse or doctor is present. “Yeah, that’s what happened. I thought bartenders were supposed to pour the drinks into glasses for ya, not clobber ya with the merchandise.”
He chuckles briefly, though the action clearly causes him discomfort. “Needless to say, I won’t be offering my patronage to that particular establishment no more.” He shifts the ice pack, briefly making visible the enormous lump underneath it. “Doctor said I ain’t concussed, but I sure as shit got a nasty headache.”
I offer him another smile. “Well, why don’t I let you get some rest? I—“
“Sam, listen. C’mere.” He releases the ice pack with one of his hands to beckon me over. I oblige, taking a few steps deeper into the room. “I heard what you said to Charles. This place ain’t exactly big, or sound proof.” My eyes widen, but he quickly waves a comforting hand. “Don’t worry about the staff here, they’re friends of the Herdsters. That’s why Pierce had you bring us to this clinic.”
He takes a deep breath before focusing his gaze intently on me. “What you did today… was a good thing. I was out cold for most of that fight, so I didn’t see you get the upper hand on Murphy, but if you hadn’t done what you did… I wouldn’t be here talkin’ to you right now. He’d have killed Pierce, then me.” He glances down at the floor between us regretfully. “I’m sorry that we put you in that spot. I knew Murphy was an asshole, but I didn’t in a million years think he’d be capable of trying to pull what he did, and if I had known, I wouldn’t have put you at risk like that.” His eyes focus on me again. “But now, with all things considered, I’m thankful you were there. If you weren’t… my little boy or girl would be growin’ up without a father.”
I try to offer him a smile but my lip quivers. Marty sighs before continuing. “I know this was a hell of a first day. And please believe me when I say, this is not the norm. We can get rough with folks, but only sometimes, and only when it’s absolutely necessary. Like Charles said to you, we’ll defend ourselves when it needs doing, but we aren’t thugs.” He shakes his head. “It’ll take some convincing to make you believe that after the way Pierce treated you, I know. And I’m sorry that he’s been so cruel to you. It’s just…” He purses his lips. “I don’t know that it’s my place to tell you this, but I don’t think he’ll ever tell you of his own accord. I’d ask that you keep this between us.”
He gestures with his head toward the open door behind me. Understanding his meaning, I reach behind myself and gently push it shut. Marty sighs again. “Pierce had a brother. His younger brother, Francisco. Called him ‘Franky’. Franky worked for the Herdsters, too. Pierce had gotten him a job doin’ mostly the same thing we do, collecting dues and helping out with pickets and functions as needed.” He frowns and his eyes go out of focus, looking beyond me to a memory. “He was a good guy. Reckless, and loud, sure… but he was a good guy. Always had a joke to crack, no matter the situation. And you could tell Pierce really loved him.”
The pieces slowly fall into place in my head before Marty even clarifies. He refocuses on me. “His brother was killed. And the man who killed him… was a human.”
Now my eyes go out of focus as I process what he just said. Before I get too far into my own head, Marty raises his free hand again. “I know that this isn’t a good excuse for him being the way he is. I don’t agree with his philosophy that humans are inferior to dinosaurs. I know things were different between our species not that many years ago, but if I needed any sort of convincing that humans are just as capable and worthwhile as us dinosaurs, you provided it today. And I really hope that Pierce sees that, too. I’m only telling you this because I believe that you’re a good man… and deep down, past all that bitterness and resentment he still harbors, I believe he’s a good man, too.”
I scratch the back of my neck as I consider his words. As quickly as I want to discard the excuse… can I say that I would be any different? If my younger brother was killed by a dinosaur—if I had one, that is—would I be forgiving and understanding, especially after how I’ve been treated by so many dinosaurs over the years?
Marty shifts the ice pack on his head again, snapping me out of my introspection. “Like I said, I don’t tell you any of this to expect you to give Pierce a pass for his shitty behavior. I just want you to know that his attitude is his own, and it doesn’t reflect how anyone else views you, myself included. I know people out there can be assholes, and I’m sure you’ve gotten burned your share of times. But… I hope that you’ll consider me a friend, seeing as I consider you a friend now.” He smiles genuinely and extends his free hand toward me.
I close the distance between us with one step and accept his handshake. “Thank you, Marty. I’d like that very much.”
His teeth become visible past his grin. “Alright, my ploy worked! Now that we’re friends, you gotta get me and Tina a present for our baby shower!” I blink in momentary confusion until his raspy chuckle clues me into the joke. I give him a light smack on the arm, earning another laugh followed by a whine. “Hey, no fair beatin’ up the injured guy!”
I shake my head and chuckle as I take a step back. “Speaking of, did your wife get told you’re here yet? Or Pierce’s… you did say he’s married, too, right?”
“Charles said he’s gonna give them a call for us. I told him to tell Tina not to worry, I’m just gonna spend the night here for observation, should be good to go by tomorrow. As for Pierce… well, Bianca might be comin’ by to visit him.”
I guess Bianca is Pierce’s wife. I nod to Marty. “Alright, Marty. Is there anything else I can do for you before I head home?”
He turns himself onto his back with a heave and a groan. “Could you ask the nurse to get me some more ice on your way out?”
“You got it.” I pull open the door to the room, fulfilling my new friend’s request with the nurse before heading toward the exit. Passing by the chairs in the waiting room, I notice a small rectangular package resting atop one. I scoop it up, recognition rapidly coming to me as I pull off its lid to reveal the crescent moon pendant that Marty had given me. I put two and two together; this wasn’t in here before, so Charles must have retrieved the day’s money from Pierce’s car and found this in the back seat while doing so. He didn’t know which of us it belonged to, so he just left it on the waiting room chair.
I hold the small silver moon in my hand, running a thumb over its smooth surface. A smile forms on my lips as I think about Aubrey for the first time in several hours. I remember the date I have with her tomorrow night, imagining the look on her face when I give this to her. Though… is it too soon to be giving her gifts like this? It’ll only be our second date, after all. My smile fades away as my conscience begins wrestling with itself as to the proper timetable of appropriate gift-giving during the courtship of a woman.
My feet carry me outside the clinic as I continue battling my id. I’m getting swept away with thoughts of Aubrey when I… after everything that happened today, happened. The words of both Charles and Marty ring in my head, but I still fight against the reality of my actions. You can make arguments that I acted in self defense or that I’m a “good man” until you run out of breath, but the fact remains… I helped kill a guy. Was his life worth less than Pierce and Marty’s? What about the bartender?
Several blocks down the sidewalk, I stop and stare at my reflection in a shop window. The man who looks back at me is the same one as before, the same one I see every morning in my bathroom mirror… but somehow, he looks different. More hardened. Like some piece of him was removed that can’t be given back. He tries his hardest to smile, but it doesn’t look genuine.
Is Aubrey going to want to be with a man like this?
My mind swirls with contradiction and confusion. On the one hand, Charles treated me with dignity and kindness and Marty offered me his friendship. On the other, I know that these men are capable of dealing in death, even witnessing it firsthand today. They claim to not be mobsters or murderers, that they only defend themselves and their clients… but if that’s so, what about Eggsy? Sure, he was stealing money, but did that mean he deserved to be shot dead in an alley? Why not report him to the police?
On top of that, Charles told me that I’m free to leave the Herdsters, but is that actually true? After what I’ve seen, would I ever truly be safe? If I decided to quit and go back to Sal’s, would I have to look over my shoulder, constantly dreading the bullet that would bring my story to a rapid close? Could I even flee the city to somewhere safe, or would I always be in danger? I mean, I don’t think their organization’s reach is quite Gorewellian, but Charles did say they operate in every major city. I might just be a loose end that’s easier to tie up with a tap to the back of my head.
And even if I could run away, getting safely to some backwater town where they couldn’t find me… that would mean giving up Aubrey, wouldn’t it? Why would she follow some guy she just met to another town? And wouldn’t I just be putting her at as much risk as myself?
I stare at the box in my hand again, imagining the crescent-moon pendant resting against her collar. A vision fills my mind of her devastated eyes staring at me as I tell her about my plans to run away, confused and questioning. Her hand wraps around the necklace before tearing it off, casting it on the ground as she curses at me for wasting her time and breaking her heart. I can only sit with my head hung, unable to tell her anything due to the danger it would put her in. She’d abandon me just like I’d be abandoning this God-forsaken city and the rotten mess I’ve gotten myself into.
It seems that I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t. At the very least, I still have a date with her tomorrow night, and despite the scrape at that pool hall today I don’t have a mark on me. It’d make things a lot harder if I had to explain a black eye or broken nose to her on our date, and it’d be infinitely more awkward if I was dead.
Raptor Christ… I need a drink.
—
As Charles asked, I slept on it. And the next morning I found myself standing in the front lobby of the Herdsters building again. It was a restless night with a lot of things blasting around in my mind as I tried to sleep. Even the glass of rum I stopped for on the way home didn’t seem to alleviate my anxiety. The only notion that helped me find slumber was that I’d get to speak with Aubrey during our date. I coulda called her last night, but I figured it would be better to discuss things in person. I’m also uncertain as to how much I can reasonably tell her, but having someone to talk to about this stuff is better than nobody at all. As much as I love Saxon, the walking carpet isn’t exactly a conversationalist.
I aimlessly mill about for a few minutes before Marty pokes his head around a corner. If he still has a lump on his head, it’s concealed by the flat cap he wears. “Hey, Sam. Come on over here, will ya?” I oblige, trotting over to the diplodocus. “Pierce and I usually muster at the parking garage entrance in the morning. You’re welcome to meet us there instead of standin’ around the lobby lookin’ lost.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, sure. Sorry about that. I’m still getting used to how things work.”
He gives me a clap on the back, his immense strength nearly sending me toppling. “You’ll catch on! I’m just glad you came back after all that excitement from yesterday.” His words cause me to stop; he turns and cocks his head. “What’s wrong?”
“Yesterday… those guys at the bar… we—“
“We defended ourselves.” He steps closer, speaking quietly. “They tried to rob us, and they tried to kill us. We did what we needed to do.”
I look up at him with a frown. “What happened after we left? Y’know, with… with them?”
Marty blinks before glancing around. His tone is still hushed. “Everything is taken care of. Don’t worry about it.”
I feel my pulse start to quicken. “But, wouldn’t the police—I mean, we killed those—“
He hastily pushes me into a vacant office nearby, craning his neck around to ensure nobody became interested in our conversation. He brings his head down within inches of my face. “Sam. Everything’s gonna be okay. I understand you’re still rattled. It’s never easy when a fight goes down like that, but you did what needed to be done. And so long as you’re with the Herdsters and you do what we need you to do, nothin’ bad is gonna happen to you. You got that?”
He awaits my confirmation of his words, offering a stern but compassionate look. Despite the pang of nerves that jab my mind, I feel oddly comforted by his kind tone. I manage a nod, which he reciprocates before speaking again. “Alright, buddy. I’ll be with you all day today, so don’t let it get to ya. And if you need to take a breather, sit down, get a cup of coffee or whatever, it’s no problem.” He gives me a sly grin. “And don’t you worry, today’s gonna be a real treat. You get to witness the finest feature of the International Brotherhood of Herdsters in full swing: bureaucracy!”
I cock my head, unsure of his meaning until he leads me out of the office and a bit further down the hall toward two signs adorned with large letters: “Roscoe Truckers Association Voters Here” and “Stegen Island Cab Company Voters Here”. The signs flank two doors leading to separate rooms; within each, folding tables blanketed with paper, pencils and ballot boxes are tended to by dutiful Herdsters employees. The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeates the space between the rooms, affording the otherwise sterile environment a welcoming feeling.
Marty gives me a nudge to pull me out of my enraptured state. “Pretty exciting stuff, I know. We usually don’t do two-fers like this, but it just worked out this way. The fellas from both companies should start rolling in around nine and will probably keep trickling through until four or five.”
I half-register his words, distracted by my attempt to locate the origin of the delicious scent of caffeinated goodness. He seems to catch on to my distraction, stepping through the door to our left. He has to lower his neck slightly so his head doesn’t collide with the top of the threshold. His large fingers find the handle of the object I was unconsciously searching for a moment ago, a coffee pot brimming with freshly brewed alertness. He pours some into a thick paper cup and hands it to me. I glance at the coffee in my hands, then back up to him. “So… what are we gonna be doing today, then?”
He pours a second cup for himself, speaking after he takes a swig. “We’re gonna be glorified hall monitors. Keep an eye on things, point folks in the right direction, make sure nothing gets out of hand.”
I wince. “Out of h-hand?”
“Oh, no. It won’t be anything like that. In fact, I imagine the worst that might happen is there’ll be a few fellas poking around outside trying to snipe some of our members. Basically, an organization can only switch unions with a vote, so competing unions will try to entice people with promises of better rates or bigger benefits.” He scoffs. “They can’t even come close to the Herdsters, but they still try to sucker ‘em. Today’s vote ain’t about that, though. These two companies are newer to our union, so they’re voting on their own internal leadership. Pretty big companies, too, so we’ll have a lot of guys comin’ through here today!”
I cautiously blow on my coffee as he explains, waiting for it to cool down so I don’t scald my tongue with roasted bean water. Before yesterday, I’d hardly known a thing about the Herdsters or other unions for that matter, let alone how they operated. As I filled in my new hire paperwork, Charles explained a fair amount of what they do and what my role would be, though most of it went over my head. Contracts, work conditions, fair compensation, pickets, collective bargaining… they were a myriad of phrases that made some sense on their own, but when combined into an organization of this size made my brain hurt.
Marty and I spend a little more time chatting with one another. I ask about Pierce; Marty tells me that he’s conscious as of this morning but still in pretty rough shape, so he’ll likely be at the clinic through the weekend resting up. I don’t necessarily wish ill upon the guy, but I am glad to have a little time away from the stegosaurus and his unending hatred toward me. Marty’s words from yesterday echo in my mind, about the circumstances surrounding Pierce’s brother and his untimely end, but also his implication about Pierce potentially coming around to me. If it’s possible… it’d definitely make things a hell of a lot easier on this new career path I’m still uncertain about.
After a few minutes, some dinosaurs begin wandering into the building, looking for their appropriate voting area. Marty leads me outside the front entrance so we can keep an eye on the primary ingress point; according to him, that would be the most likely place for competing union representatives to loiter and try sweet talking our members. However, the only use of our vigilance is to point voters toward where they need to go; we see neither hide nor hair of any honey-tongued competitors all day. Marty eventually backpedals, saying that it’d be pretty ballsy for those jokers to come ‘round our turf and try to stir up trouble.
In a futile gesture, I wipe the completely drenched handkerchief across my forehead and silently curse Marty for the bright idea of having us stand in this horrific heat all day. It certainly put extra pep in the step of our visitors as they hustled to retreat indoors and into properly conditioned air. One fella mentioned that the weatherman suggested it might make it to the triple digits today, and I believed him. Heat like this might be common further west in the dusty deserts, but our fair city with all its conductive steel and paved walkways is quickly becoming a pressure cooker.
As the work day draws to a close, the last of the voters trickling out and the signage being brought down, Marty gives me a clap on the shoulder. “Ya did good today, bud. Like I said, a nice, easy day that hopefully helped settle you down a bit.” He begins turning away before pausing and shooting me a sly grin. “I just remembered. You said you got a date with that gal tonight, didn’t ya?”
I blink, not recalling having brought it up to him today. It takes a moment for me to remember mentioning it in the car yesterday when he gave me that necklace. “Y-yeah. Supposed to meet up with her at seven.”
His grin widens and he winks. “Good luck, champ! Not that you’ll need it, I bet you’re a smooth one when it comes to the ladies.” I can’t help but chuckle, knowing all too well that I am certainly not smooth. “I’ll expect a full breakdown on everything come Monday. You can’t keep being mysterious, not after I’ve prattled on about my Tina and our little incoming bundle of joy all day. You gotta return the favor and give me a little juicy detail on the love life of Mr. Lawson!”
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I offer a polite smile and wave before heading out. “Have a good night, Marty.”
Truthfully, his penchant for chatting was quite helpful today. It kept me distracted from the anxiety of my second date with Aubrey, though I still felt twinges in my gut whenever the thought of her crossed my mind. I could tell Marty was doing a little probing of his own, attempting to get me to share a bit more about my pursued relationship, but I held my tongue and managed to sidestep the conversation. As glad as I am that he considers me a friend, I have no clue how the bombshell of me dating a velociraptor gal would go over with him, or anyone else within the Herdsters.
Or Pierce, for that matter. Hell, he might just kill me on the spot if he found out that I was pursuing a dinosaur with my caveman impurity.
The trip home takes me a bit longer than it did back when I was working for Sal. I have to take a couple buses to get to and from the Local 237, unlike simply being able to walk to work. Not that I’d mind a change of pace like this for a job that’d get me some more money, but I’m still not sold on the Herdsters. Yeah, today was peaceful and quiet, and maybe Marty’s right that most days aren’t bloody. But I never had to stab a guy in the leg and watch my coworker break his neck at any of my previous places of employment…
There’s nothin’ for it right now. I’ll just have to talk to Aubrey about it.
But how much am I gonna tell her? The aspiring cop who went charging headfirst toward gunfire with a bad knee—what is she gonna think if I tell her I helped kill a baryonyx? Despite not being an actual police officer, she’d probably arrest me on the spot. If I do get into a serious relationship with her, would I ever be able to tell her something like this? And what if more violence goes down in the future? What if I get hurt, or come home covered in blood? Is it worth the secrecy and dishonesty just to make enough money to provide for us? Can I even get out anymore without putting myself or her at risk in doing so?
Raptor Christ. Why’d this all have to happen like this? Why can’t things just be easy?
The bus lurches to a halt at the nearest stop to my home. I climb out, dejected and disheartened by my current fucking mess of a situation. My watch informs me that it’s a little past six. Considering the place I invited Aubrey isn’t too far from my apartment, I should have enough time to freshen up, take Saxon out and then walk myself over to the restaurant.
Dinner and a movie. A classic combo for an aspiring couple. I’ve got no clue what’s playing at the theater, but they usually run movies until the wee hours of the morning on the weekends, so we shouldn’t have a problem getting a ticket to something. Whether it’ll be any good, who knows? But I’ll be spending that time with Aubrey.
After attending to Saxon, I take care of my personal hygiene, washing my face and dabbing a bit more cologne on my neck and wrists. I wanna look sharp, but not too sharp, so I go with a checkered button-up shirt and some black slacks. Not as snazzy as the jazz club, but not lookin’ like a beatnik either. I hesitate at my hat rack, considering tossing on a familiar flat cap before I decide against it. I’d rather let the top of my head cool itself as much as possible against this wicked heat, so I give my tangled mane a quick pass with the comb before heading out.
The scorching rays fail to relent in their merciless onslaught upon the poor citizens of Old York City even as the sun begins its slow retreat into the west. It’s easy to tell that everybody is sick and tired of the heat at this point, with sweat-covered brows and annoyed scowls adorning both the humans and dinosaurs I pass on my way to the chosen date spot. While I can certainly sympathize as I dab away the moisture on my face with my handkerchief, I can’t help but wear a smile as I stroll, the fluster of my work situation being temporarily silenced by the prospect of this evening.
I’m gonna do everything I can to make this work. I might have been dealt a tough hand with this Herdsters business, but I’m not gonna let it discourage me. Aubrey is too special of a woman to let slip away.
Just as the mental image of her form fills my mind for probably the seven hundredth time today, the real deal comes into view on the horizon, appearing like a shimmering mirage from the reflected heat from the concrete beneath us. She stands outside the entrance of my chosen dinner location, Lucky Louie’s Malt Shoppe. I put a little hustle into my step, getting within about fifty feet before she turns my direction and notices me.
Her mouth instantly widens into a smile, making my heart skip a beat. She lifts a greeting hand. “Hey, Sammy!”
“Heya, Aubrey! I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, especially in this damned heat.”
She shakes her head, her smile not faltering in the slightest. “Not at all, I only got here a couple minutes ago.” Her eyes fall upon my outfit. “You look sharp as always, Sammy!”
She puts me to complete shame, being draped in a jaw-dropping single-piece dress the color of dark peaches. A row of evenly spaced buttons travel all the way from her collar down to the hem that rests just at her knees. A thin, similarly-colored belt hugs her narrow waist and contours to her subtle but seductive curves. Her arms are free of sleeves, granting vantage to her slender blue arms that just a few nights ago held me close as we danced and, later, as we kissed. Her hand raises, brushing aside some of her short blue hair that intrudes on her line of vision, further unveiling her sparkling citrine eyes to me.
She is beautiful.
Only now does her smile falter slightly, her cheeks reddening as she glances to the side nervously. “W-well?”
I snap out of my daze. “Oh my God. I’ve been sittin’ here staring like a freak! I-aw, geez. I’m sorry. Y-you look really nice, Aubrey.”
Her smile returns and her cheeks redden more deeply. “Thank you. I hoped you’d like it.”
I dart forward to draw open the door to Lucky Louie’s. She bobs me a polite little curtsy before stepping into the diner. Several booths with red lining on the seats span the windowed wall, and a bar with red-topped circular stools faces the kitchen. The smells of sizzling beef patties and bubbling oil fryers permeate the quaint restaurant. Some decade-old swing music echoing from a jukebox tucked against the far wall competes with the sound of an enormous metallic contraption that churns ice cream and flavored powder into delicious concoctions. It seems that particular juggernaut is working overtime today as the majority of the shop’s patrons crowd around the bar, slurping down their own tasty malts or awaiting delivery of one from the frazzled teenager fulfilling their orders.
I wouldn’t call myself a frequent of this establishment, but I’ve eaten here a handful of times. It’s also not exactly a glamorous date location, but I didn’t want to go too overboard so early in my courtship of this woman. With the money from this new job I’d happily take her somewhere much fancier than this; on a scorcher of a day like today I figured a frozen treat would suit us just fine.
We scoot ourselves across from one another in a booth, the squeak of the faux leather recalling an unpleasant memory when I sat across from the triceratops I now call boss before I knew whether I’d be dying at his hand or not. However, I can’t linger on the sour memory as Aubrey shoots me another beautiful smile. “This place seems nice, I’ve never been here before.”
I return her smile before turning to observe the other customers and staff. All humans. A few shoot wary glances in Aubrey’s direction, but most focus on their own conversation and malted beverages. I turn back to my date. “It’s a neat little hole in the wall place. You’d just as easily drive right past it and not give it a second look, but their food is pretty good!”
I catch a small glimpse of the feathers at the end of her tail swaying under the table, but before our conversation can continue a waitress wanders over to us. The bags under her aged eyes communicate a lack of desire to work here, or anywhere for that matter, and her sour expression clashes with the cheerful pink and white stripes of her aproned dress. She scans me, then Aubrey for a long moment before arching her eyebrows. Her several-pack-a-day smoker’s rasp rolls past a curled lip. “What can I get for ya?”
My cheeks redden in embarrassment and I glance down. However, Aubrey smiles at the woman. “A cheeseburger and fries would be great, thank you!”
The waitress scribbles on a pad of white paper before turning to me. “And you?” Her tone is curt, and her eyes seem accusatory, as though I should be ashamed for bringing one of them into a fine human establishment like this.
“Uh… I-I’ll have… the same. No tomatoes, please.”
With a click of her tongue, the waitress saunters back to the kitchen. I feel like a total idiot, not having considered the implications of bringing Aubrey to a place like this, especially after—
“No tomatoes?” Her playful voice brings my eyes back to hers. “Am I gonna have to be worried about a picky eater around my cooking?”
It takes a second for my brain to catch up. “N-no. I’m not really picky about much. Just… don’t like raw tomatoes—look, Aubrey. I’m really sorry. I didn’t—“
She lifts a finger to stop me and closes her eyes for a moment as she takes a deep breath. When she reopens them, her gaze meets mine with warmth and comfort, her gentle smile putting me at ease. “Don’t apologize. I did a lot of thinking over the past couple days, and what you said outside of Birdland really stuck with me. Do you remember what you said?”
I don’t have to search my memory for very long before a small smile creeps onto my lips. “Fuck ‘em.”
She nods. “That’s right. I already had my conniption in that jazz club and I was worried I’d ruined the whole night for both of us, but you were a true gentleman and saw past my foolishness. So from now on, I’m not gonna let the looks or sneers bother me.” She reaches a hand across the table and places it on mine. “A fella like you is worth a little discomfort from strangers. You better believe I’m a tough woman, so it’ll take more than that to discourage me from you.”
I know she’s sayin’ words at me, and they’re really nice words, but hot damn my heart is going a mile a minute and I got a lot of blood rushing somewhere it don’t belong right now. I opt to stare at her hand on top of mine, trying desperately to contain the thoughts of what I want to do with Aubrey.
A dry spell really does things to a guy, y’know?
Literally shaking away the lustful notions with a quick flick of my head, I turn my hand over to accept hers. Her fingers squeeze between mine and her yellow eyes narrow ever so slightly, bringing a rapid end to the tenuous internal armistice that I had formed with my libido.
Either my expression is way too telling or Aubrey is practicing to be a mind reader; she lets out a giggle. “This is gonna be fun. I like teasing my friends and getting reactions from them, but with a fella like you… all sorts of new opportunities are opened before me!”
I scrunch up my face, but can’t help but smile. “Oh, is that so? You’re just doin’ this to torment me, huh?”
She gives a wicked grin. “Mmhmm! And you’d better believe I’m gonna revel in it!”
We both share a laugh, earning a few more over-the-shoulder glances from the other patrons, but neither Aubrey nor I pay them any mind. Tonight is for us.
Aubrey suggests we play a fun little dating game she had been suggested by one of her book club friends where we take turns asking each other questions. No matter the question, you had to answer it, and you only got to ask one question before the other person got a turn. You also weren’t allowed to just say “Same question for you”, you had to switch it up and then maybe come back to that earlier one later if you really wanted to ask it.
We pass the imaginary baton back and forth as we learn more about one another, with questions ranging from “Where did you go to high school?” to “If you were a sea creature, what would you be and why?” I got to learn a lot about Aubrey from the game, including that she’s an only child like me, that her favorite jazz song is ‘Walkin’’ by Miles Cratis but her favorite jazz album is ‘Moanin’’ by Art Drakey and the Jazz Couriers, and that she’d be an octopus because they’re “majestic” and also they “can dump a bunch of ink out their ass to run away… when necessary, of course.”
Our laughter is briefly interrupted when the waitress returns with our food, two cheeseburgers, one sans tomatoes. Aubrey’s eyes light up at the display before meeting mine again. “You ain’t asked me what my favorite food is yet.”
I chuckle. “I feel like this is a leading question, but why not? What’s your fav—“
“Hamburgers! I will never say no to a juicy burger.”
“Oh, so you’re saying I made a good call with picking this place?”
She nods excitedly as she takes a bite of the burger, but switches to feigned indignance as she speaks past her mouthful. “Hey, you already asked your question, it’s my turn!”
I raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t it un-lady-like to talk with your mouth full?”
She washes down the meat patty with a swig of water before shaking her head. “I refuse to answer any more questions until I get to ask one.” A contemplative talon scratches at the bottom of her snout as I munch on a few of my fries. “Tell me more about this sudden change of career choice. You’re working for the Herdsters now, right?”
The question catches me off guard, causing me to sputter on the fried potato in my throat. I paw at my own glass of water and gulp some down to allow me to breathe again. Aubrey doesn’t seem to find any deeper meaning in my choke, merely expanding upon her question. “You mentioned it when you called me on Wednesday night, but we didn’t really get to talk that much.”
She’s right about that. I was so frazzled on Wednesday night that all I could manage was to tell her about my new job and then ask her out. I told her I’d explain more on our date; I’m surprised she waited this long to ask me about it. Maybe she was waiting for me to volunteer the info myself and got impatient. She watches me attentively as she takes another bite of her dinner.
“Not much to tell about it, really.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Had a bit of a… fortuitous meeting, I guess. Ran into a fella who works for the Herdsters. He was impressed by my quality of character and offered me a job.”
Aubrey cocks her head. “Well, you’re certainly a character, but what did you do that impressed him so much?”
I smirk. “I thought we only got one question.” She merely looks at me, setting her burger down and folding her hands on the table to await my answer. Guess that rule only applies for her. “I returned some lost money to them.”
This causes her eyes to widen. “You what?”
I really hate having to do this. I don’t like being dishonest, but I can’t tell her everything. I gotta give her a version of the truth. “I came across an envelope that had money that belonged to them on my way home from work. It was misplaced, musta been lost by the fella who collected it. I returned it and got offered a job for my trouble.”
She blinks and shakes her head, trying to piece together the story. “How would you have known the money belonged to the Herdsters?”
“Coincidentally, it was the same envelope Sal Fontana—the owner of Sal’s Butcher and Grocery—had me hand the Herdsters rep earlier. I could tell it was the same one because of his handwriting on it.”
She blinks again. “That… certainly is a mighty coincidence. How much money was in this envelope?”
I shrug. “Dunno exactly, but it was quite a bit. In fact, Charles Rossi gave me a bit of cash out of it as a ‘thank you’ along with the job offer.”
Aubrey’s eyes narrow for a moment and go out of focus before they widen toward me. “Did you say ‘Rossi’?”
“Y-yeah? You know him?”
She crosses her arms and looks down, a finger tapping on her forearm as she thinks. “Not exactly. I spoke with a cab driver about the Herdsters. He seemed to be a somewhat simple fella, but he had nothing but good things to say about the organization. Mentioned the name ‘Rossi’.” I breathe a sigh of relief which she quickly cuts off by looking back up at me. “I also did some digging over the past couple days, about the Herdsters. Did you know they’re being criminally investigated in several states by the government?”
“No, I didn’t.” There’s no half-truth here, I legitimately didn’t know that. I mean… maybe it isn’t that surprising given what I know now, but how far in over my head am I?
“No major convictions have stuck yet, but there have been numerous cases tying the Herdsters to organized crime around the country.” She suddenly looks extremely concerned, reaching past our plates of food to place her hands on top of mine. “Sammy, are you in trouble with them? Are they making you do anything… illegal?”
The whispered word sends a chill down my spine but I quickly shake my head. “N-no! I wouldn’t do anything like that! I’m an honest guy!”
Her eyes remain on mine, seemingly peering into my soul. After a moment, she smiles and nods. “I know you are, Sammy. That’s one of the reasons I like you.” She lets the sentiment linger and returns to her meal, glancing out the window next to us with a dreamy expression as she nibbles on her remaining fries.
Her words practically tear my heart in half. On the one hand, she just said she likes me which makes me want to jump out of my chair and cheer. On the other… I just told her I’m an honest guy right after lying to her about my entanglement with the Herdsters. Is this what my life is gonna become? One where I have to talk out both sides of my mouth to not make this woman suspicious of my dealings? How long will that last before I fuck up or, more likely, she catches on? She’s not a stupid woman, far from it. She might even sniff out my bullshit before we’re even done with dinner.
She turns back to me, a new expression crossing her face. I’m not exactly sure what she’s thinking, but she seems to open her mouth to begin speaking before closing it again and reconsidering her words several times. Finally, she takes a deep breath and gets out what she wanted to ask. “This… might seem like a strange request. And please know, I’m not trying to get you into any sort of trouble, not with you being so new to the Herdsters, but… if I asked you to do me a favor involving your work, could you do it?”
I blink, somewhat vexed by this sudden question. “I mean, yeah, I’d be happy to do anything for you, Aubrey. But… what is it you need me to do?”
She purses her lips. “When I went into the station on Tuesday night, after everything that happened at Birdland, I found out that one of those officers that arrested Miles Cratis is involved with the Herdsters. I’m not exactly sure how, or in what capacity, but I know he was advocating for the Herdsters with some of the other officers. He had pamphlets in his locker.” She taps one of her talons on the tabletop as she thinks. “A lot about it doesn’t make sense. First off, he’s an asshole cop who hurt Miles Cratis and ruined our first date. Second, the police already have a union, one they’ve used for a lot of years. It doesn’t make sense that one fresh-faced recruit would be trying to stir up trouble or get the police to swap unions, especially with all the scrutiny that the Herdsters are under these days.”
She looks back up at me and her voice carries earnest authority. “I’m sorry to ask it of you since you’re so new, but could you keep your eyes open for anything… suspicious? I know you’re honest and you’re not gonna be okay with doing dishonest things for them, but if you see anything involving the Herdsters and the police, could you let me know?” She fidgets. “I know I’m not a cop, but I still want to do my best and if there’s something dirty going on, I need to let the Commissioner know.”
I nod to her. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be sure to let you know if I see anything suspicious.”
She smiles and takes my hand again. “Thank you, Sammy. This means a lot to me.”
I return her smile, but realize her request has sealed my fate with the Herdsters. Now I’ve got no choice but to keep working for them, otherwise she’ll figure out something is up. She returns to her nearly finished dinner, polishing off the last bite of her burger and the few remaining bits of potato from her plate.
At this point, there’d only be one clean way out of my arrangement, and that’d be to get the hell out of dodge. I try to put on a playful tone. “Hey, since you got to ask me like ten questions in a row, that means I get a few, right?” She smiles and shrugs, still chewing the last bit of her food. I gulp, wary about the next question I’m going to ask her. “Would you ever consider not living in Old York City?” She cocks a perplexed eyebrow at me past her glass of water. “Y’know, moving somewhere… less crowded, less bustling? A small town.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve already gone past that part of my life, Sammy. I grew up in a small town, and it was boring. Something about this place makes me feel more fulfilled.”
“But what about your dream of becoming a police officer?”
This makes her expression tighten. “What about it?”
“I mean… don’t you think you might have a better shot of becoming a cop for a smaller town? It’d be less of a risk to—“
She doesn’t let me finish. “What, so I can track down Farmer Bill’s escaped pigs and maybe break up a bar fight once every two months? What kind of life would that be? I’d be better off not doing it at all if I’m not gonna do anything useful.” Though I sense some bitterness in her words, she seems to try to rein herself in. “Part of the reason I moved to Old York in the first place was to be somewhere where I could make a real difference. That just won’t happen over in Podunk.”
“I didn’t mean any offense, it was just—“
“I know, Sammy. You were trying to offer an alternative to accommodate my situation. It’s something a lot of people have done for me since…” She trails off, her expression becoming more sullen as her head sinks. Just as I’m about to reach across the table and put a reassuring hand on hers, she lifts her eyes again. They are filled with sorrow. “Do you… think I can be a cop?”
My hand completes its journey, coming to rest on hers. She immediately accepts it, tightening her fingers around mine. “Of course I do, Aubrey. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. You charged into battle like you were gettin’ off one of those landing crafts on D-Day, and that was literally the first time I met you. The amount of passion and zeal you showed when Miles Cratis was bein’ arrested was, frankly, intimidating.” This earns a small giggle past her clouded eyes. “But that’s the kind of woman you are. You’re one of a kind, and I think the police force would be foolish to not let you help protect this city.”
She bites her lip, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Thank you, Sammy. You’re one of a kind, too.”
I want to lean forward and kiss her, but the clatter of our plates being removed by the annoyed waitress breaks both Aubrey and I out of the moment. She glares down at us like she caught two teenagers trying to sneak out late at night before letting out a huff. “Anythin’ else for the two of you?”
I glance at Aubrey who dabs at her eyes with a napkin. “A couple chocolate malts?” She nods at me. “A couple chocolate malts.” My repeated request sends the waitress back toward the kitchen with a roll of her eyes. I shrug and speak quietly. “The staff usually aren’t this rude. Must be the heat.”
Aubrey giggles. “Must be!” She balls up the soiled napkin, damp with a few loosed tears and some makeup smudges. Though the moment for a comforting kiss has passed, she pulls my hands into hers again, beaming her beautiful smile at me from across the table.
I meant what I said about her being a terrific cop, if she was given the opportunity, but… there’s still the one thing. Her physical impairment that kept her from being able to dance with me to the more upbeat song at the jazz club. And if her knee is bad enough that it can’t handle that sorta exertion…
“Hey, Aubrey. If you don’t mind… could I ask about your—“
My question is cut short by the sudden dousing of lights in the restaurant. Aubrey and I both glance above us at the darkened light fixture, then around the rest of the establishment. The music came to a slow end, the record needle murmuring out the dying breath of some poor swing record that won’t complete its rotation. The hums of the busy malt mixers fade out, earning surprised gasps and annoyed moans from the waiting patrons.
I look back to Aubrey. “Did—did the power just go out?”
She stares out the window. “Uhh, I think so, and then some.” I follow her pointing finger out to the street and the surrounding structures. Not a single electric light can be seen performing its duty. The towering building across the road stands black and ominous, only lit by the waning sun and its reflection offered by the early moon. Several windows of apartments above are thrown open, and perplexed heads poke out, surveying the road and the building in which our currently darkened restaurant resides.
I scratch the back of my neck. “Well, this is a new one. Can’t say I’ve ever had a blackout happen during a date!”
Aubrey turns back to me with a smile. “Let’s hope it’s not a sign of bad luck. You’d let me know if you were a walking jinx, right?”
I chuckle. “Well, my uncle is a black cat and I frequently spend my weekends walking underneath ladders.”
“You goofball.” Aubrey looks past me toward the entrance. A few customers have wandered out of the restaurant, while others sit around remarking about the occurrence. “Well, does this mean we aren’t gonna get those malts?”
“I imagine that fella still knows how to stir with a spoon, right? We might as well enjoy the ice cream and wait for everything to come back on.”
It turns out, the panicked teenager was not up to the task of hand-stirring chocolate malts, and the fry cook, presently without power or light in his kitchen, stormed out into the store front to handle the ice cream orders while sentencing the teen to mopping duty. The bad temper of our waitress is now on full display of everyone as she loudly curses after banging her shin on a chair leg in the lackluster lighting. She mutters further obscenities as she limps into the back of the restaurant.
After several minutes, the irritated fry cook extends Aubrey and I the best smile he can as he presents us with two hand-stirred chocolate malts and our check. I quickly scoop up the slip of paper and fetch a few bucks out of my wallet to cover the bill and a tip. Aubrey smiles at me and bats her eyelashes as she takes the first sip of her chocolate treat, speaking up when I sample my own malted delight.
“You know, I am gonna pay for some of our dates. I appreciate you being a gentleman and all, but you’d better not spoil me.”
“Hey, I just got this new job and all. I want to spoil you a bit.”
Her eyes playfully narrow as she takes another sip, but the cold provided by my own malt pales in comparison to the chill that fires up my spine as her ankle brushes against my leg underneath the table. Just as quickly as it made its presence known, it disappears again, the only sign of the wayward appendage being the sassy smile on Aubrey’s lips.
Language has forsaken me. “I—uhh, I was—umm… I was gonna ask—uhh…”
I cannot remember what I was going to ask. There’s really just one thought rolling through my head at this moment, and it ain’t the head on top of my shoulders.
Another fifteen minutes go by as we finish our malts, the delicious chilled beverage doing well to soothe my heated everything. A few more questions pass between the two of us, but our interest in the conversation is frequently sidelined by the world of darkness around us. The power still hasn’t come back on, and most of the other patrons have left. The waitress finally makes her way back out to the front, collecting the check and my payment and offering a smile when I inform her the rest is for her. However, she also lets us know that they’re probably going to lock up in the next few minutes.
Aubrey and I oblige the request, making our way out to the blackened street. The only bright lights visible are those of the headlamps of passing cars, and it seems even the vehicles are making themselves scarce in this strange occurrence. The skyline appears haunting, a distressing level of shadow that I’ve only seen a handful of times. Sure, blackouts have occurred before, but this one seems to stretch on forever. Usually a blackout is a single building or, at worst, a city block or two. But save for the straggling vehicles on the road, everything is just off.
I offer a hand to Aubrey which she accepts readily. “The theater is only a couple blocks away. You okay walkin’ over there?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “I doubt a theater is gonna do us much good now, what with them needing, ya know, electricity to play the movie and all.”
“Hey, smarty. I figure the power might be back on by the time we get there, or maybe we wait around for a few minutes.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“I guess we call it a night and get you a cab back home?”
She ponders my words for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Let’s do that.”
We make our way down the sidewalk, strolling together hand in hand like a young married couple. We pass by several people who mill about outside, perplexed and impressed by the marvel of such a catastrophic failure of our city’s infrastructure. Guess they weren’t lying when they said folks shouldn’t leave their refrigerators open. Maybe one too many grannies without an air conditioner did that and blew the whole fuckin’ city’s power grid.
Still, the darkened skyline affords a strange, otherworldly beauty to the space above and around us. If I was out here by myself I might be a bit freaked out, but with Aubrey by my side it almost comes across as… romantic. The passing cars and chatter of people still offer a backdrop familiar to the city, but the absence of the constant thrum of electricity is noticeable. It offers a certain level of calmness you don’t normally feel unless you’re far away from the skyscraper-laden landscape, surrounded by trees and flowers instead of light poles and buried electrical wires.
We arrive at the theater with nothing but a further darkened sky above us. At this point the sun has fully set, leaving us only with the moonlight and the somehow still hot air around us. I step up to the box office, glancing through the glass to find absolutely nobody manning it. Aubrey raises an eyebrow at me as I turn back to her. “So? How long we wanna wait?”
I feign indignance. “Geez, am I that miserable to be around that you wanna ditch me so fast?”
She giggles before stepping closer to me and planting a quick kiss on my cheek. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m just a little worried that the power might not come back on and that I won’t be able to get a cab back home.” I glance up and down the street, noticing a significant lack of typical traffic for this hour. Even with the setting sun, taxis are normally numerous, but it seems they are going into hiding this evening.
I notice a bench beneath a couple movie posters leading up to the theater’s entrance. I lead Aubrey over to it and offer her a seat which she accepts. The slight overhang of the theater marquee, normally covered with dazzling lights, instead offers even more darkness in the continued outage. With a sigh, I take a seat next to Aubrey.
She glances at me with concern. “Everything okay?”
I shrug. “Well. I’m not sure what to do now. I was planning to give this to you with… you know, light so you could actually see it, but that might not be possible tonight.”
Her mouth hangs open for a moment before she stutters out a reply. “G-give? Give me what, Sammy?”
I withdraw the slender rectangular box from my pocket, having been careful to keep it concealed from Aubrey during our date. “Just something… a gift. Something I thought you’d like. But if you can’t even see it…”
Her eyes dart from the box back up to my face. “U-um! I can actually still see pretty well! Velociraptors have good low-light vision, y’know! Not as good as some species of dinosaurs, but it’s pretty good! And—well—and…” Her fingers fidget on her lap and her tail quivers in anticipation.
I offer her a smile. “Okay. I still think it looks a lot nicer in the light, but… it’ll look nice on you no matter what.” I slowly lift the lid of the box and present the crescent moon necklace to Aubrey.
Her hands instantly fly up to her mouth as she gasps, the trace amounts of moonlight glinting from her saucepan eyes. “OH! Oh, Sammy!” Her trembling fingers lift the pendant from its velvet-lined resting place, her thumb sliding across its smooth silver face. “It’s beautiful. I love it!”
“May I?” Her eyes find mine again as I lift the necklace out of the box and unclasp it. Reaching forward gently, I bring the two ends together at the back of her neck, our faces coming within inches of one another. With the clasp reconnected, the pendant rests just above the collar of her dress, shimmering in the increasingly limited light of the actual moon high above us. I smile at her. “It looks really nice on—“
She doesn’t let me finish the sentence, bringing her lips to mine and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. The gesture, while a little surprising in its suddenness, is entirely welcomed as I return her kiss, bringing my hands to rest on the flat of her back as I beckon her toward myself. She scoots closer, exploring my tongue with hers, drawing in breaths between each kiss. Her eyes close in bliss as we share the passionate exchange, heat radiated amidst the still sweltering night air around us.
She eventually withdraws, placing her forehead against mine as she lightly pants. Her eyes reopen, focusing on mine with desire and adoration. “Sammy…”
My heart leaps at the potential words that might follow her utterance of my name. I wonder if she’s about to say the same thing I want to say to her, that I’ve wanted to say to her. Is the second date too soon to say it? Because to hell with the rules, I know what I feel in my heart.
“I—“
“We’re CLOSED!”
The shrill voice causes both Aubrey and I to jump and spin toward its source. The theater’s door is held ajar and a grouchy tyrannosaurus pokes his large head through the opening. I sputter in response. “Uhh! S-sorry! We were—that is, are you—“
“We’re closed. Can’t you see that the power’s out everywhere? No power, no movies. Now beat it!” With a puff of air from his nostrils, he slams the door. The sound of its lock latching into place offers additional finality where it wasn’t needed.
Of all the rotten timing… I slowly turn back to Aubrey whose look is far off. I expected to get a giggle out of her, but she seems to be in another world altogether. “Geez. Sorry about that.”
Her eyes focus on me, but her gaze still seems distracted. “I-it’s okay. Let’s… get a cab. I should get home.”
I nod to her and stand from the bench; she follows suit. I offer her my hand which she quickly accepts, the redness of her cheeks clearly visible even in the limited light.
We begin making our way down the street back in the direction from which we came. I glance around for any sign of the telltale yellow and black checkers, but see no symmetrical patterned shapes on vehicles for several blocks. Very few cars are on the road at all, and none of them seem to be taxis.
Aubrey appears to be looking as well, but her expression shifts between far off distraction and some sort of flustered annoyance. Her tail that had been happily swaying behind her all night has wrapped itself around her midsection; she cradles its feathered end with her free hand. I consider asking her if everything’s okay, but I can only guess how that would go or if she’d even give me a straight answer. Did I do something to upset her? I don’t think I did; she seemed to really like the necklace that’s still hanging around her neck.
For a moment her eyes meet mine, then quickly dart away as her cheeks deepens another shade.
Is… is that it? Is she…
Aw, geez. That would be going awfully fast, even for two divorcees on a dry spell. I mean, I’m on a dry spell. Guess I don’t know about her. But… is she getting nervous about… that? The possibility of us… I mean, we’re both adults, right? We can decide when it’s right to—
“I don’t see any cabs.” She stops in place, still holding my hand and cradling her tail.
I turn to face her. “Me neither. This is a really weird night.” Her eyes don’t wander away from mine. “Um… how far away do you live?”
“A ways. Too far to walk, at least at night.”
I gulp. The stagnant heat doesn’t relent in the slightest, causing my brow to pummel me with sweat. My heart attempts to burst its way out of my chest and crawl down the sidewalk in search of less stressful pastures. Meanwhile, Aubrey continues gazing at me with her twinkling yellow eyes, diamond irises shimmering and full of vulnerability.
I barely hear myself say the words as they roll past my lips.
“Do you want to come up to my place?”