Stubborn Mule, page 2
"Stop changing the subject," she laughed, running her fingers through her cascading locks absentmindedly. "And the makeup is homemade because the stupid shops are either closed or just selling this new natural stuff that's like rubbing a stick on your eyelashes."
"I thought that was what you and Jen did now? Sticks and charcoal and all manner of gunk." I caught the darkening expression and added, "But it looks awesome. You're so pretty. Now, about these phones. You can't tell me you believe their crap about weird wave particles or whatever it is they're trying to spout. Whoever heard of there being no signal because of that?"
"Oh, and your theory is better?" she teased. "That the world governments want to send us back to the dark ages on purpose so they can control our every move?"
"Exactly! That's just what they're doing. They're making excuses for everything and using global warming as the reason. Well, the planet has cooled two degrees since they put everything into place, so we're back where we should be. Everything's working like it should, but they're still pulling this crap."
"Soph, you know as well as I do that they have to maintain the temperatures, and they have to ensure we don't make the same mistakes we did again. That's why no cars, no plastics, no single use anything, and no pollution."
"Tell that to the bloody farmers trying to keep their cows alive as nobody's allowed a bloody steak. Tell that to the millions of people with no jobs because there are no factories. Tell that to everyone who's starving because they can't even buy food. And don't even get me started on the damn money thing. I can't keep up."
"It's credits, same as it has been for years. Just credits."
"That are worth next to nothing. It's ridiculous. People even look at me funny if I ride my bike now. What's with that?"
"You have a point about that," Phage conceded. "I am worried about what they're teaching Jen at school. It's gone a bit far. They're pushing for them to walk, and woe-betide anyone that wears anything synthetic. What are they meant to do, throw it away? Imagine the grief she'd get then."
"It's brainwashing. I'm all for a clean world, but there's an agenda here."
"Soph, you've been saying the same thing ever since I first met you. There's no agenda. What would be the point?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "To control us. To take over our lives, make us do what they want. Let the rich and powerful clowns own us just because they want to. Who knows how the minds of these maniacs work. Like I've always said, anyone who volunteers to be a politician or leader of a megacorp should be banned immediately. You've got to be twisted in the head to want that kind of power. They should let regular folk do it."
"But they wouldn't know how to. Stop being silly. Do you want a coffee?" Phage ran the tap and partially filled the kettle to the two cup mark.
"Yes please. At least we have water. But I'm not liking that it's rationed now. And that's another thing, why—"
"Hush." Phage placed a finger over my lips and smiled softly. "I know you're anxious, missing Jen, and worried about your decision, but you're ranting. You have been for days. Stop it. You don't even mean half of what you're saying. You're just venting, trying to find an answer to things that we'll never understand. This is our life. Enjoy it."
"Sorry. I do enjoy it, so very much. I'm so happy it makes me want to punch myself, like it's all a dream, you know? Maybe I'll wake up and discover I'm in the fucking matrix with wires in my head and some gross machine poking me up the bum to study me."
"If this is the matrix, I never want to leave." Phage stood on tiptoe and kissed the tip of my nose. It was warm, wet, and kind of odd, but it still sent a tingle into my favorite place to get a tingle, and I asked, "Maybe we could have an early night?
"It's two in the afternoon," she giggled coquettishly.
"Then let's call it a siesta. But without the sleeping." I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively and Phage squeezed my bum.
"I could not sleep," she chuckled, her cheeks flushing, the heat running down her neck and below her vest.
"Me too," I laughed.
Hand in hand, with conspiracy theories, missing daughters, lack of good steak and wine forgotten, we raced down the hall of our utterly oversized and bloody awesome house, heading for the stairs. Ignoring the shouts and banging from the basement—Shey Redgold was in the middle of major renovations, yet again—we whispered naughty things to one another, excitement building.
"Fuck!"
The letterbox I'd sealed shut with 5mm steel plate bolted to the timber door exploded in a dangerous spray of metal and wood shards, catapulting us back onto our asses as smoldering shrapnel sank into our flesh.
"Put me out! Put me out!" screamed Phage as her vest burned and she batted desperately at her hair.
Ignoring my own blistering arm, I slapped at the spreading flames with my hands, then tore off my shirt and wrapped Phage's head tight as the rug suddenly ignited beneath us. I pulled her away from the fire, then snatched the end of the rug and quickly rolled it up, dousing the flames before they had a chance to really take hold.
"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching out for Phage to grab my hands.
"Fine, I think," she grunted as I hauled her to her feet and she removed the shirt. "Soph, you're burning!" Phage patted my shoulders, desperate to stop the tiny shards of molten metal and splintered wood causing more damage.
"Can't even feel it," I growled, more concerned that she was okay.
"There, that's better." Phage stepped back and inspected me, then frowned and reached out and rubbed her hands over my long hair with trembling fingers. "That's the last of it. Told you growing it this long was dangerous."
"Hey, yours is longer than mine. Although, a lot less gray." I smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn't working.
"You like looking grizzly and unkempt. It's your thing."
"True. Gotta hide these rugged good looks somehow."
"You're more handsome than ever. Big muscles, chiseled jaw, and all those veins."
"That's only because I'm losing weight because there's no steak," I laughed, my adrenaline dissipating now I knew Phage was alright and not unduly scared.
"It suits you. And for the first time in my life, I have a totally flat tummy. But that's not the point," she said, snapping back to our present predicament. "That is." Phage pointed at the Necronote hovering in front of us.
"It looks like it was hit by a cannonball," I sighed, studying not the note but the splintered hole in our front door. "I'll get a few planks and fix it up for now."
"Soph, you're going nowhere," snapped Phage, grabbing my arm.
"There's a hole in the door," I protested.
"And your Necronote is defying the laws of physics and waiting for you. You know you can't beat this. You have to take it."
"I do not."
"You do. I wish it were different, but you can't ignore it."
"I can, and I will. Just watch me." I grabbed the rolled-up, smoldering rug, and stormed back into the kitchen, heading to the rear garden to get my tools and some wood from the workshop.
I heard the whoosh of paper as it sliced through the smoky air just in time to turn aside. I got a nasty cut to my cheek, but at least my head remained where it should be. Cursing under my breath—mixing it up as I did plenty of out loud swears—I lunged for the door, yanked it open, ignored the heat that hit like a smack in the face with the aforementioned smoking rug, and threw the offending article outside.
The Necronote tore at my ear in a frenzy, forcing me back into the kitchen. I batted at the paper, but it dodged and weaved like a welterweight on fentanyl and drove me back into the hall where Phage was standing, shaking her head.
"Just take the bloody thing," she ordered.
"No. It's just teasing."
"You're being stubborn and childish. Take it!"
"Don't wanna, and you can't make me. Neither can you." I jabbed a finger at the note and glared.
The note drifted lazily between us then turned as though facing her, not me. Impossible, but that's the impression it gave. It darted forward like a stalled car, then reversed a little and spun to face me again. It bobbed up and down, questioning my intent, testing my resolve, but I merely grunted and shook my head.
"Phage," I said calmly, "you might want to run very fast into the snug and close the door even faster. Don't argue, just do it. Now!"
Phage sprang at the open doorway. She almost made it, but the Necronote twisted sharply and rocketed at the closing door, blasting right through it. Phage screamed in shock as I hurried forward then swatted the note aside.
"Take it," she ordered.
"No." I loomed over the fallen paper, crisp and pure white like it had been freshly laundered, and told it, "It's me you want, so come here. Leave everyone else alone. You coward."
The note bristled at the insult, but it was wily and knew how to push my buttons, so it shot at Phage, narrowly missing her eyes. It turned sharply then flew back at her, pointed edge aimed at her right eye. Phage's hand shot up just in time, the corner wedged between her fingers, then she slapped her other hand over the note from behind, scrunched it up, then threw it into the fireplace.
"Not a good move," I lectured. "There are still embers from last night, and it won't burn anyway."
The note erupted in a whoosh of flames, causing us to beat a hasty retreat.
"You were saying?" she said smugly. Then her face darkened and she screamed, "Do not make me angry. You won't like me when I'm angry."
"You been watching TV shows from the nineteen-eighties again?"
"What?" she snapped, exasperated.
"You know, the Hulk, David Banner. That's what he says before he turns green."
"I don't turn green, do I? I turn into a monster. And I'll break your scrawny back if you don't sort this out."
"Hey, what happened to me being a big hunk of man-meat? Now I'm scrawny?"
"Just deal with it!" Phage glared at me; I just shrugged.
We studied the open fireplace, far from legal nowadays, but we couldn't find an approved stove anywhere, or even an unapproved one. The flames died down, and there, just above the coals, was my pristine Necronote, free of even a speck of soot.
"If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was glaring at me."
"I'll do more than glare at you, you bastard, unless you admit you were wrong and take your note."
"No, I won't," I said, stubborn to the end. "I told you, I'm not doing it ever again. Never. It's over."
"Soph, please. I wish it could be over. You think I don't want it to stop? Everyone does. But we can't. You can't. It's our punishment. Our fate. Our duty."
"We haven't done anything to be punished for. Only what the notes made us do."
"No, we made that choice. We decided. And now it's too late. Take the damn note, or there's no birthday treat. You'll miss out on half a dozen naked hot versions of me doing unspeakable things to you," she teased, tilting her hips and running her hands down her singed vest after throwing me my shirt. "Please, for me. For all of us. For you. Just accept it and be done."
"I know I'm being irrational and beyond stubborn about this, but you have to trust me. The Necrobastards want me for something, and this is my way out. Maybe all of ours. You think I want to put you in danger? But what if this leads to something? Like maybe Jen won't have to suffer how we have? I have to try," I pleaded.
"You mean you're doing this to save Jen? Oh, Soph, why didn't you say so? Do you really think it might change things? Truly?"
"I'm not sure," I said, feeling beaten and desperate. "But we know she's special. Different. She's more advanced than anyone I know, has a bloody dragon and a unicorn. Even your own mother admits Jen is unique. She can hear her sisters, has the eyes that single her out like Peth, and as for me, well, you know that story. Our family is marked, there's no denying it any longer. I've seen way too much for it to be normal, and even I can do things no other Necro can. Certainly no males."
"Talking to your brothers, morphing so far, and communicating with my grandmother."
"Yes, exactly. What if this is the answer? What if it really does mean we can change things? Stop Jen having to kill? Isn't that worth a few cuts and the odd bit of molten steel stuck up your nose?" I looked at the love of my life, hurting so bad inside for putting her in danger, but I just didn't know what else to do. There had never, ever been a way out of this for any living Necro unless you either became a vampire or were given the job of a Constable. Everyone else fulfilled their note or was killed. End of.
"Jen is a very special child," mused Phage. "And you're a special man. Even mother says so. Maybe you're right," she admitted, shoulders slumping. "Let's try. But Soph, don't die. I'll kill you if you do, understand?"
"I understand," I chuckled, feeling like a load had been lifted from my shoulders.
As one, we turned to confront the hovering note.
"What now?" asked Phage.
"We wait."
"For what?"
"Dunno. Fancy a cuppa?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Phage slapped my arm playfully, then considered it and admitted, "I do fancy one. We didn't have our coffee. We were going upstairs, remember?"
"Maybe we could still do that?" I ventured, ever hopeful.
"Seriously? Now? Even after what just happened?"
"Phage, I have told you this many times, but let me remind you. I am a man."
"And?"
"That's it. If we are in the throes of full-blown flu, then we would still try. If I am bleeding out, I'd give it my best shot. If I was being attacked by a horde of angry dwarves because I had their gold down my pants, then I'd still try my best to pause the mutilation for a moment so we could get naked. It's how we're wired."
"All of you?"
"I think so. It can't be just me."
"You sure? You're the only man I've ever been with, you know that, but surely not everyone's as, er, motivated as you. Not that I'm complaining." Her eyes moved lower. "Soph! You have got to be kidding."
"It's the excitement. It, er, you know."
"No, I honestly don't." Phage shook her head, then with a watchful eye on the stationery note, she eased out of the snug backwards to go make coffee.
"Shame," I muttered. "This is your fault," I told the note. "I could have been naked in my bedroom with my awesome wife. Now I'm stuck here with you. Fancy buggering off for an hour?"
The note flipped edge on, then spat from the inglenook faster than my eye could follow and tore at my throat, ravaging flesh as it sawed manically back and forth.
I couldn't eradicate the image of six naked Phages even as my blood flowed. I honestly couldn't help it. I think it's a sickness, or utterly unfounded optimism. Something like that. Or maybe it is just the fact I'm a man. Either way, I can live with it. What I refused to live with was this damn yearly Necronote.
"Bastard," I swore, just because I felt like it and had plenty of reason. I snatched the frantic note, slammed it to the ground, then stomped down and left my foot over it. It squirmed, but remained trapped, and I giggled with delight at besting it.
Then it almost tore my big toe off and sprang for my face yet again.
"Fine," I admitted, "I'll hold on to you. But I won't open you." I held out my hand and the Necronote drifted lazily into my palm, happy as Woofer with a sausage machine and a roomful of self-slaughtering pigs.
Hardly glancing at the cause of so much misery, I snatched up my shirt, put it back on, then stowed the note in a pocket and fastened the button. With a grunt, I went to have a nice cuppa with my unfortunately still dressed wife.
You can't win them all. But it would have been nice to win something now and then. A medal for instance. I bloody well deserved one. Or maybe Phage did, for putting up with me.
ONE FAERY TOO MANY
"Here's your coffee, you daft lump." Phage smiled demurely, then handed me a steaming mug.
"You said coffee," I moaned. "I thought that meant we had some?"
"It is coffee. It's alright, isn't it?"
"Phage, I know you're young compared to me, but surely you haven't forgotten what real coffee tastes like?"
"I'm trying, okay? I know what it's meant to be like, but it's been harder and harder to get it for years now. We haven't had any for nine months, and it's not so bad."
"No, it's yummy," I said, winking.
We burst out laughing as we eyed the dark liquid.
"It's horrid, isn't it?" she said, eyes sparkling with mirth as what the hell else could you do but see the funny side?
"Truly terrible. In a perverse way, I do enjoy it. But only because it limits how much of it we drink. We should have stuck to tea."
"We should. But it isn't the same. Even that's British, and it just doesn't taste like Indian tea does."
"I like it." I sipped my coffee and grimaced. "What did you say this was again?"
"They reckon it's made from real coffee beans grown locally, but I'm not so sure."
"We just don't have the right climate. Even though it's hot enough, the nights are too cold now, and the winters are worse than ever."
"At least you don't have to go out for days at a time when there's five feet of snow. Every year I almost freeze to death."
"Try dealing with the sun. It's just as bad. At least you get to have a curry."
"Um, where's the note?"
"I took it. It's here." I patted my pocket glumly. The note squirmed then was still.
"Thank you. Does this mean you've changed your mind?"
"No way. Just have faith, okay? Don't worry. This will all work out."
"It won't, you know, but I'll stand by you anyway."
"Thank you."
We drank in silence, apart from the occasional grunt as we held back on complaining. We'd done so much of it lately as the world fell apart around us. Riots in every corner of the globe, water shortages, blackouts, the demise of the ubermarkets, the rise of fascism in many countries. Starvation, rationing, intermittent internet—sometimes down for weeks—phones often not working, propaganda, and mass culling of animals in the name of ecological efficiency, whatever the hell that was, and the admission by all governments that there was no way to power the world by green means at the current demand and all we could do was shut the fuck up and stop turning the lights on.
