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Feb. 23rd, 2006 05:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mikkenekoI didn't want to leave them in the truck. Going on the freeway with the wind to cool off with is one thing, but sitting in the motel parking lot the truck was nothing more than a big metal box to turn into an oven. First thing I tried to do was put them in the cab while I checked in, but that didn't work too good. As soon as they saw me walking away through the glass, they went wild. Didn't seem to want me to go at all. Lucky they were too little to break the windows, even when they thumped on them, and they didn't seem to figure how to unlock the doors. I saw one of them kind of chewing on the door handle. The other two were plastered up against the driver's side window, watching me walk off.
Then one of them started crying again.
I stopped in the middle of the lot. "Ah, hell," I said, and went back to get them. I didn't much like the thought of checking in at the desk with three wild kittens in tow -- but at least that meant nobody in the parking lot would see them and wonder what was up.
At the check in desk I had to do a bunch of fast thinking, and faster talking. The old lady at the desk was the bored kind of sort who had nothin else to do but gossip about the people who stayed in the motel. I'd bet a dollar to a dime that if I was all too closed-mouthed about it, she'd be on the phone with her cronies before the day was out talking it up.
So I spun a nice little story. "Bout time I took some vacation from the grind," I told her, smiling to keep her from looking too real close at the fake ID I'd gave her. "The old lady stayed home, so I took my son and his friends here and brought them all out to do some fishing."
I had one of the kittens by the hand, figured the dark-haired one could pass easiest for my 'son.' It was a pain doing everything one handed, but just the other two kittens were already bouncing around the lobby, sniffing at the fake rubber tree and poking the water cooler. I just hoped I could get done and get them out of the lobby before they broke anything or did anything really not human.
The check-in lady glanced up at me through her horn-rim glasses. "I didn't think there were any fishing resorts around here," she said.
"Private," I said, smiling whitely to hide the panic. "My buddy owns the Huntley resort a few miles out back." Huntley was one of the exits I'd passed on the way in; I just had to hope she didn't know the area.
Lucky, seemed she didn't. She pushed her glasses up her nose and looked down at the kitten, who stared back at her. "Aren't they a little young for fishing?" she said in this haughty sorta way.
I put on my best insulted look. "Look, lady, I get enough of that from my wife. You start'em young, see, so they grow up knowing what to do. They're old enough to hold a rod, well then, they're old enough to be fishin'! Not like I'm putting a buckshot in their hands and askin' them to hunt quail!"
She sniffed slightly, but just about then one of the other two kittens managed to knock over the rubber tree over onto its side, and that was the end of questions for a while.
I got the whole troop up to the room without any more trouble, though there was trouble on the stairs. First they didn't seem to know what to do with the stairs. Then when they got the idea to climb them, the shoes kept coming off their feet and they tripped. Eventually I had to pick Harry up and carry him on my back, so I'd have one hand for each of the others. And let me tell you, he could cling like a python.
By this time, I don't know whether it was the clothes or just having to tell them apart, but I'd started thinking about each of the kittens with names. I had to be careful to use human names if I thought anyone might be listening, and anyway it was easier to keep track of that way. The bright blond one with the Green Lions cap I was calling Tom. The dark blond with the red overalls was Dick, and then the dark haired one I was passing off as my son was Harry. They didn't know their own names, of course, but at least I could tell them apart now.
I locked the door and settled in all the stuff I had, and put the gun under my pillow. Then it was time to relax and unwind a little bit, because I'd been on the run all fucking day and night with these three monsters. The motel was cheap, but at least they had a little bar, and I found some pretzels and a warm bottle of import beer. Good enough for now. I sat down on the bed with a groan, kicked off my shoes, and dug up the remote for the room's black-and-white fifteen inch TV.
Bliss. Fucking bliss. This was better than a truck in the middle of the woods any day, Greed or no Greed.
Just the thought was enough to send a chill down my back, though, and I only ended up drinking half the beer. I turned on the TV, and switched to the news. Never a good idea to get too out of touch, in my line of work.
The glow of the TV -- or maybe the noise -- got the kittens' attention then, and they stopped trying to climb the walls long enough to come and crowd around it. I didn't see much of the news for a while, what with their bodies blocking the screen and their noise drowning out the announcer.
Eventually, though, the novelty wore off. Tom and Harry came over and climbed up on the bed to snuggle down next to me, and Dick got bored and went off to investigate the bathroom.
I was busy hoping he wasn't gonna flood the whole first floor of the motel, and wondering what I was gonna feed the boys, when the news changed stories and that damn zoo story was up on the screen again.
For a minute I panicked, groping around with my free hand for the remote. I don't know whether it was some crazy fear that the cops could somehow reach me through the television, or a little less crazy fear that the kittens would see their Alphonse parent on the screen and freak out. But Tom and Harry didn't seem to notice what was on the screen at all, or connect it with themselves and their parents; they weren't even looking at the screen when the grave-sounding newscaster flashed to a video of the Alphonse.
The last time I'd seen that Alphonse, he was drugged half out of his mind, flat on the ground and clinging to the body of his dead mate. I've seen a lot of Elrics in my line of work, and a lot have been pretty sad looking, but I thought that one took the cake.
But this was even worse. The Alphonse wasn't fighting, or even grieving. He was just.... lying on his side, curled up in the middle of the enclosure. He didn't move an inch the whole time the shot was on him. I woulda thought it was a photo still, except that he blinked sometimes, and he was breathing.
Shit.
The grave-looking newscaster was talking now to a plump little blond piece of work about Elrics, Alphonses and the grieving process. It's all what everybody knows about Elrics, of course -- monogamous pair bonding, blah blah, mate for life to raise their young, yadda yadda yadda. Most of the time if one of the pair dies it's the Edward, since Edwards are always getting into fights. It's what they do. If an Edward does somehow outlast its mate, it usually will make it alone, sometimes it can even mate again.
But if an Alphonse loses its mate, it dies. Just lays down and... dies. Like this one.
Shit.
I had to pull away from Tom and Harry -- no, the kittens -- in order to get up off the bed and pace. The motel was a "No Smoking" motel, but that was just too damn bad. I wasn't going to leave the kittens alone to go outside to smoke, and I sure wasn't opening a window for them to fall out of. I settled for opening it a crack, and lighting up and sitting down right in the draft.
I hadn't thought too hard about what I was going to do with the kittens, really. Hadn't had the time. Too much work to do just staying out of sight. One man alone can vanish easy, but one man and three noisy, rare, weird-looking baby animals? Not so much. I couldn't run forever, not from the cops and not from Greed. There was no place I could get rid of them, or at least no place I would.
But what else could I do? Their father Edward was dead. Their father Alphonse... was dying. Dying, but not dead yet. If he got his kittens back, somehow, would he pull out of it? I didn't know. I'd never dealt with parent Edwards before. The newscasters hadn't said. They thought the kittens were dead and gone too, even though the cops were still looking. They didn't have much hope for real; once Elrics vanished the odds of them turning up again were low. And beating the bushes for the usual rounds wouldn't turn up much, because none of Greed's cronies had any word on them either.. Nobody knew where they were. Nobody knew what had happened to them. Nobody knew except me.
Shit.
I found myself staring at the cig, which had already burned down in the draft from the window. I ground it out on the windowsill and went back to get my papers and maps.
It was time I paid a visit to a friend.
Then one of them started crying again.
I stopped in the middle of the lot. "Ah, hell," I said, and went back to get them. I didn't much like the thought of checking in at the desk with three wild kittens in tow -- but at least that meant nobody in the parking lot would see them and wonder what was up.
At the check in desk I had to do a bunch of fast thinking, and faster talking. The old lady at the desk was the bored kind of sort who had nothin else to do but gossip about the people who stayed in the motel. I'd bet a dollar to a dime that if I was all too closed-mouthed about it, she'd be on the phone with her cronies before the day was out talking it up.
So I spun a nice little story. "Bout time I took some vacation from the grind," I told her, smiling to keep her from looking too real close at the fake ID I'd gave her. "The old lady stayed home, so I took my son and his friends here and brought them all out to do some fishing."
I had one of the kittens by the hand, figured the dark-haired one could pass easiest for my 'son.' It was a pain doing everything one handed, but just the other two kittens were already bouncing around the lobby, sniffing at the fake rubber tree and poking the water cooler. I just hoped I could get done and get them out of the lobby before they broke anything or did anything really not human.
The check-in lady glanced up at me through her horn-rim glasses. "I didn't think there were any fishing resorts around here," she said.
"Private," I said, smiling whitely to hide the panic. "My buddy owns the Huntley resort a few miles out back." Huntley was one of the exits I'd passed on the way in; I just had to hope she didn't know the area.
Lucky, seemed she didn't. She pushed her glasses up her nose and looked down at the kitten, who stared back at her. "Aren't they a little young for fishing?" she said in this haughty sorta way.
I put on my best insulted look. "Look, lady, I get enough of that from my wife. You start'em young, see, so they grow up knowing what to do. They're old enough to hold a rod, well then, they're old enough to be fishin'! Not like I'm putting a buckshot in their hands and askin' them to hunt quail!"
She sniffed slightly, but just about then one of the other two kittens managed to knock over the rubber tree over onto its side, and that was the end of questions for a while.
I got the whole troop up to the room without any more trouble, though there was trouble on the stairs. First they didn't seem to know what to do with the stairs. Then when they got the idea to climb them, the shoes kept coming off their feet and they tripped. Eventually I had to pick Harry up and carry him on my back, so I'd have one hand for each of the others. And let me tell you, he could cling like a python.
By this time, I don't know whether it was the clothes or just having to tell them apart, but I'd started thinking about each of the kittens with names. I had to be careful to use human names if I thought anyone might be listening, and anyway it was easier to keep track of that way. The bright blond one with the Green Lions cap I was calling Tom. The dark blond with the red overalls was Dick, and then the dark haired one I was passing off as my son was Harry. They didn't know their own names, of course, but at least I could tell them apart now.
I locked the door and settled in all the stuff I had, and put the gun under my pillow. Then it was time to relax and unwind a little bit, because I'd been on the run all fucking day and night with these three monsters. The motel was cheap, but at least they had a little bar, and I found some pretzels and a warm bottle of import beer. Good enough for now. I sat down on the bed with a groan, kicked off my shoes, and dug up the remote for the room's black-and-white fifteen inch TV.
Bliss. Fucking bliss. This was better than a truck in the middle of the woods any day, Greed or no Greed.
Just the thought was enough to send a chill down my back, though, and I only ended up drinking half the beer. I turned on the TV, and switched to the news. Never a good idea to get too out of touch, in my line of work.
The glow of the TV -- or maybe the noise -- got the kittens' attention then, and they stopped trying to climb the walls long enough to come and crowd around it. I didn't see much of the news for a while, what with their bodies blocking the screen and their noise drowning out the announcer.
Eventually, though, the novelty wore off. Tom and Harry came over and climbed up on the bed to snuggle down next to me, and Dick got bored and went off to investigate the bathroom.
I was busy hoping he wasn't gonna flood the whole first floor of the motel, and wondering what I was gonna feed the boys, when the news changed stories and that damn zoo story was up on the screen again.
For a minute I panicked, groping around with my free hand for the remote. I don't know whether it was some crazy fear that the cops could somehow reach me through the television, or a little less crazy fear that the kittens would see their Alphonse parent on the screen and freak out. But Tom and Harry didn't seem to notice what was on the screen at all, or connect it with themselves and their parents; they weren't even looking at the screen when the grave-sounding newscaster flashed to a video of the Alphonse.
The last time I'd seen that Alphonse, he was drugged half out of his mind, flat on the ground and clinging to the body of his dead mate. I've seen a lot of Elrics in my line of work, and a lot have been pretty sad looking, but I thought that one took the cake.
But this was even worse. The Alphonse wasn't fighting, or even grieving. He was just.... lying on his side, curled up in the middle of the enclosure. He didn't move an inch the whole time the shot was on him. I woulda thought it was a photo still, except that he blinked sometimes, and he was breathing.
Shit.
The grave-looking newscaster was talking now to a plump little blond piece of work about Elrics, Alphonses and the grieving process. It's all what everybody knows about Elrics, of course -- monogamous pair bonding, blah blah, mate for life to raise their young, yadda yadda yadda. Most of the time if one of the pair dies it's the Edward, since Edwards are always getting into fights. It's what they do. If an Edward does somehow outlast its mate, it usually will make it alone, sometimes it can even mate again.
But if an Alphonse loses its mate, it dies. Just lays down and... dies. Like this one.
Shit.
I had to pull away from Tom and Harry -- no, the kittens -- in order to get up off the bed and pace. The motel was a "No Smoking" motel, but that was just too damn bad. I wasn't going to leave the kittens alone to go outside to smoke, and I sure wasn't opening a window for them to fall out of. I settled for opening it a crack, and lighting up and sitting down right in the draft.
I hadn't thought too hard about what I was going to do with the kittens, really. Hadn't had the time. Too much work to do just staying out of sight. One man alone can vanish easy, but one man and three noisy, rare, weird-looking baby animals? Not so much. I couldn't run forever, not from the cops and not from Greed. There was no place I could get rid of them, or at least no place I would.
But what else could I do? Their father Edward was dead. Their father Alphonse... was dying. Dying, but not dead yet. If he got his kittens back, somehow, would he pull out of it? I didn't know. I'd never dealt with parent Edwards before. The newscasters hadn't said. They thought the kittens were dead and gone too, even though the cops were still looking. They didn't have much hope for real; once Elrics vanished the odds of them turning up again were low. And beating the bushes for the usual rounds wouldn't turn up much, because none of Greed's cronies had any word on them either.. Nobody knew where they were. Nobody knew what had happened to them. Nobody knew except me.
Shit.
I found myself staring at the cig, which had already burned down in the draft from the window. I ground it out on the windowsill and went back to get my papers and maps.
It was time I paid a visit to a friend.
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-23 09:09 am (UTC)oooh, i love. (quail. *snerk*)
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Date: 2006-02-23 11:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-23 11:50 am (UTC)I LOVE this first person Dorchette piece, I really love how you are developing his charater and calling the kittens Tom,Dick and Harry is a scream =D This is fabu Mikke, don't make us wait super long between chapters! =D
no subject
Date: 2006-02-23 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-23 07:33 pm (UTC)*prods you for more*
no subject
Date: 2006-02-23 11:55 pm (UTC)<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3!
This the scene that I had in my head all along :)
no subject
Date: 2006-02-26 09:34 pm (UTC)I hope the Alphonse lives... but at the same time, I sort of want them to become attached to their temporary caretaker. ;_;
(And buckshot. And quail. *snrk*)
no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 12:55 pm (UTC)But I turned up there that night, about six hours after checking into the hotel, just as night was falling. At that time of night, nobody really notices you in the city; everyone's got their head down and their mind's already home or in the bars or wherever they want to be that isn't here. I picked this place because it was easy to lose yourself, and hard to find anyone else, and Greed didn't have any agents there.
Well, aside from her.
We'd known each other for years, even before we both started working for Greed. She was a fine lady, Martel, chest out to here and hair down to there, at least in the days before she cut it off. The hair, not the rest of it, as I had rather good reason to know.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 01:21 pm (UTC)All old news, though. I went up the creaking staircase to her door, and knocked softly. If she'd seen me, she'd be waiting; if not, she wouldn't open her door to a knock anyway, and you wouldn't wanna attract too much attention in this place.
Sure enough, I'd just gotten to the fourth knock when the door swung open under my hand. I saw a flash of blond, in the hallway lights, and for a weird moment I thought of the poor Edward we killed; then she yanked me into the little hallway and slammed the door behind me.
I started. "Martel, honey, it's so good to see y--"
She punched me in the jaw.
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Date: 2006-09-17 01:31 pm (UTC)I flinched against the wall, nursing my jaw, which probably wasn't broken if it did feel like it. Yeah, her right hook was as mean as ever. "Please baby, keep yer voice down," I pleaded uselessly.
"You've got a lotta guts to come back here, after what you pulled!" she snarled, advancing on me, but at least her voice dropped to a sibilant hiss. "Do you have any idea -- any idea! -- how much shit you're in? Greed's pulled all his muscle into looking for you! He wants your eyes for earrings, Dor!"
I cringed. Coming from the guy who still kept the scalp of one unlucky business competitor mounted on his bedroom wall, that probably wasn't much of an exaggeration.
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Date: 2006-09-17 01:33 pm (UTC)"Help!" Martel fumed, fingers twitching as if longing to close around something. My throat, maybe, or the handle of one of those kitchen knives on the wall. "Help you? Why the hell should I help you? If Greed finds out you're here and I turned you in, it'll be my ass in the fire then! Give me one good reason I shouldn't call him here now!"
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Date: 2006-09-17 01:43 pm (UTC)That stopped her; I could see the fire in her eyes cool down real fast. "If Greed gets hold of you, you'd spill that news fast enough," she snarled, but the heat wasn't in it any more. After a moment, she added, frowning, "So what does this mean? You haven't gotten them to your new boss yet? Or did he chicken out when the hunt was up?"
I sighed. I should have figured. "There is no new boss, Martel. I didn't sell them to anyone else. I..." Just when I finally got the space to talk, I suddenly didn't know what to say. Why had I done it? Even I wasn't sure.
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Date: 2006-09-17 01:52 pm (UTC)"Damn it, it's not like that!" I yanked at my hair, frustrated. God, I'd forgotten how pushy Martel could be. "Will you let me explain? It's not what you're thinking, I swear!"
"Explain what?" Martel's voice was beginning to rise again, her eyes flashing. "So what, then? You stole three of Greed's prize stock and took off in his truck for the hell of it? You just broke the middle of a high-ticket smuggling operation for no good reason? What, did you have a sudden attack of conscience or something? Don't shit me!"
"Yes, I did!" I snapped, harried. "As a matter of fact, I did! That's exactly what I got!"
"You?" Martel's voice rose to a knew high note, derisive. "When did you ever do anything that wasn't for your own precious sake?"
My voice went low. "Since we killed that poor Edward and left his mate to die, Martel. Since I couldn't get those babies' crying out of my head. You remember that sound? Goes right up your spine, doesn't it? Believe it or not, there are some things that are too low even for me."
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Date: 2006-09-17 02:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 02:07 pm (UTC)