The Dragonfly Trench

Previously: Batya hangs out with the other couriers, including a new one named Capital Sam. This crusty old coot tells us about a recent job where he escorted a duplicitous lad to the very ship that Bat needs to infiltrate in the A.M. Suspiciously convenient!

— 55 —

The pod is accessed by a watertight hatch near the canteen. You spin a wheel to open it up, then crouch down to get inside, then shuffle through a cramped tunnel running fifty feet along the sea floor. This opens into a domed chamber originally used for the scientific observation of marine fauna and flora, perched right on the edge of a submarine canyon called the Dragonfly Trench. The room is kitted out with shag carpeting and throw pillows and a hi-fi. And maybe it’s because she just got railed by a small man named Lucas, but Batya finds it almost unbearably romantic.

“That was very quick,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Not too quick, I hope,” Lucas says, doing some post-workout squats. “I was told you enjoy a speedy coupling.”

“I do.” Bat is stretched out on the carpet, gazing up at the dome windows where floodlights illuminate passing bluefish and perch. She has no plans to move ever again. “It was just the right quick, down to the second. I dunno how you did it.”

He lies back down next to her and whispers, “Your body told me what to do.”

“Ew.”

“Now, would milady like—good lord what is that tattoo.”

“Don’t worry about it. And don’t look at it too long.”

“Gladly,” Lucas says, consulting a small crib sheet. “OK, so, next up I’m supposed to tell your fortune?”

“Thing is, Lucas, the way I pictured it, you’d make it feel like a fun activity you just kinda thought of, like off the top.”

“Oops.”

“It’s all right, man, it was a corny idea anyway. I just had this guy Cha-Cha on my mind.”

“Ah, yeah, he does make an impression.”

“Mostly I wanted someone to tell me what to do with my life.”

“Don’t you…work here?"

“I just started a couple days ago. Not sure if I’ll last the week. My sister got me this job, now she’s laid up with a dead knee thanks to me being a stupid idiot. Plus I got coworkers screaming at me and—eh, blah blah, same as always, people not happy when I show up.”

Lucas runs a finger along the tangle of scars near her armpit. “That’s probably normal in your line of business, though, right?”

“Yeah. I did try to bust out, do my own thing. I learned how to fry up some basic grub, thought maybe that’d make people happy. And it did, if they were drunk enough.”

“Sounds like you do know what to do, then.”

“It didn’t stick. Took about five seconds before the old life came back. I shoulda known better. That was the stupid idiot part.”

“Hey, take it from me,” Lucas says. “There’s no such thing as the old life. That’s just a ghost that lives in your head. You’re not locked into anything.”

Bat watches a glittering stream of sardines dart over the dome. She says, “One time, I was maybe twelve or thirteen, me and my sister were on a job. We got hired to kidnap a guy and scare him. But we were bad at it because he scared us more than we scared him, and he got away. We had to report back to the boss, and he wasn’t too happy about it, and he socked me in the face.” Bat twists her lips into a strange grimace, then takes out a bridge of four false teeth and shows it to Lucas. “I wanted gold ones but we were broke, as usual,” she says, lisping a little. “Anyway then the boss went after my sister while his goons held me back.” She slots her teeth back into place. “So I kinda lost my mind a little bit. I beat the tar out of his goons and ran at him. And I had nothing but my hands, and I hadn’t really hit puberty yet, I was kind of a late bloomer so I didn’t have the kind of strength I do now, but whatever, I went away somewhere and when I got back, you know…the boss was down on the floor where he belonged. And he couldn’t talk or see.”

Lucas says, “And then what?”

“Then word got out there was a little cutie who knew how to dismantle a guy. And I started getting more jobs. And I didn’t like doing them but they paid. And I been locked in ever since.”

“Well. There’s no shame earning a living doing something you don’t like but you’re good at. That’s what I do.”

Bat turns to him. “You don’t like what you do? You didn’t like what we just did? It seemed like you liked it.”

“I know, that’s because I’m good at my job.”

“Uh if you were actually good at your job you’d maybe not mention that you don’t like it. Maybe you’re not so great at the wrap-up.”

He nods sadly. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that on your feedback card.”

“I might forget about it if you run another quickie real quick.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“No you wouldn’t!”

“I promise it’ll seem like I’m delighted. Shall I proceed?”

“Gimme a minute, Little Lucas.”

“All right. Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry,” Bat says, reclining on the pillows. She wonders how Mina is doing. She feels guilty for being here in the pod, enjoying herself, ending her dry spell with two functional knees. But then she decides her sister probably has no interest in seeing her right now. It’s for the best, them being apart. Right? Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe them being terrible to each other in the dairy was how it was supposed to go. Maybe they needed a clean break. Maybe they needed the freedom to go it alone, explore their own path, and see just how bad they could screw things up without anyone’s help.

She exhales. She watches the schools of fish, the bubbles from the observatory’s filtration system trickling up to the moonlit surface. She feels her heart rate slow. She’s got the nervous knot in her gut about Mina, and about the job tomorrow, but it occurs to her that she’s not freaking out about being underwater—on the edge of a cliff, no less. For the moment, she feels safe. Safe, that fabricated concept, that slop word, seems real enough, here, tonight.

“Now?” Little Lucas says.

“Now,” Bat says. “You can take a little longer this time. And be a little rougher.”

+++

This has been Chapter 55 of Chokeville, a novel by Josh Fireland.

Next up: That Jovial Drunken Medusa