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Rose Loaded Gun
Akis Linardos
Barman looks at me weird when I order smoked whiskey. No wonder. Girl like me walks into a bar, heeled boots clacking on the floor? Folk around this planet seem shocked enough I wander round in jean shorts showing hip. Bunch of old ladies cursed at me, too. Maybe thought I didn’t hear them, maybe didn’t give a rat’s ass if I did.
Maybe they couldn’t know about earworm technology, allowing me to pick up conversations through walls.
Bartender brings my drink, and I say, “I’d like rose on my whiskey.”
Codephrase. Rose is a zombifying drug spanning galaxies. Once we traced the source, Trixie infiltrated without me. This codephrase was the last thing she transmitted before going MIA.
I screwed up three relationships before. Won’t lose Trixie to some drug trafficking mafia. Being alone in the universe is a gnarly thing.
Barman leans forward. Stinks of tobacco. “What’s a girl like you want with the Rose?”
“Girl’s business.”
A raspy chuckle. “Downstairs. Through the door saying staff only.”
I gulp down my whiskey. It tingles the fake tooth connected to the earworm, sparking with electricity. Hate how it soils the flavor, and hate that the Federation can trace my location with it.
But well, if I remove it, planet will be swarmed with Federation space ships.
Hard to trust an ex-convict like me.
#
Basement smells like dude’s armpit.
Two men waiting in line, and on a cedar desk two men sit on opposite sides. Customer and dealer I figure. Customer’s an old fellow and the dealer’s face reminds me of a squirrel. Not the cute kind.
Behind the desk, there’s a man-sized painting with a woman clad in a waistcoat and wearing a bloodred tie.
Customer leaves, and as he shuffles by his grin twitches, and his grip shakes, wrapped around the plastic sack full of rose-colored powder.
Line moves on. A man claims a position in the queue behind me.
I tongue the earworm connector. A susurrus beyond the painting as if the painted woman whispers. There’s a room adjacent to this one, behind her.
Last customer leaves, and it’s my turn. Man behind me breathes against my neck. Raspberry breath.
I kick him in the nuts, and unholster my pistol, aiming at the squirrel-faced dealer. I step over so both are in view.
“What’s this?” squirrel-face says.
“What’s it look like?” I cock my gun to the man grabbing his nuts on the floor. “That your zombie, ain’t he? He stinks of Rose overdose.” I nod to the painting. “Open it. No games. My mood’s already sour.”
A familiar woman’s voice comes from the painting. “Give me the gun.”
A hole pierces through the painting and something flies through. Lands over my left breast with a sharp sting.
Syringe-shaped bullet. Red liquid squeezes through my skin, and congeals inside my veins, stinging like a prickly vine.
Painting bangs open. Two wardrobe-sized men frame a woman whose heels clack-clack-clack on the wooden floor. Pink lips, anchor tattoo beside her left eye.
The painful tendril spreads from my breast up my neck, to my lips. “Trixie?”
Trixie walks toward me. Is she zombified? No. Her heartbeat’s normal. She carries a gun. She carries herself like a leader.
“Trixie, What the f—”
My lips hang. Numbness.
“Sorry, love.” She brings the gun up to my face. There’s a tube on the back side, filled with bullet-sized syringes. “The Rose is sweeter than the Keiki you peddled all those years ago isn’t it? But a heavy dose is overwhelming.”
That makes four. Four relationships screwed up.
But hey, not my fault this time.
#
Tied in a chair, the thorns have subsided and I’m no longer paralyzed. Room she put me in is illuminated by a single lantern. Smells like wax.
Been like what? Thirty minutes here? First ten was me trying to understand what made her turn criminal and distribute zombifying drugs across the universe. Daddy issues and a Messiah complex. Then it was her trying to convert me. And she still won’t shut up. “You’re not above this. You peddled drugs before.”
“I paid for my crimes,” I say, thinking of Charlotte, the girlfriend that ditched me all these years ago when she discovered my side-hustle. She was too good for me. “I’m paying still.”
“Federation will never see you as reformed. They see you as a minion.”
“Piss off.”
“Come on, love. The Federation failed. You know this. Look at this planet. Isolated from the rest of humanity. Devolved to primitive cultures.”
“And zombification is your solution.”
“A first step. One dose to give them a taste. Three to hook them. Ten to control them.” Her face close to mine, I can smell her strawberry lips. “Speciation and fragmentation ruined humanity. But we can remake it. You and me.”
A naughty idea strikes me. “I did love you, you know.”
“I know.”
“Still do.”
“I figure.”
She’s closer now. My lips swell, reaching toward hers.
As she kisses me, I tongue the earworm connector off my tooth and into her mouth.
#
Federation spaceships swarm the planet an hour later. Maybe that was a bitchy thing to do, but no honor among thieves and all that.
#
I lean back on the seat of my spaceship, fiddling a Solson whiskey bottle.
“Are you all right?” the ship’s AI asks. “Betrayal is hard.”
I sip whiskey from the bottle, tongue my teeth to savor the sweet smokiness of it. “Better than ever.”
“My sensors say that’s a lie.”
I flip the bottle in my hands, stare the label. A black cat stranded in a desert. But cats give no damns about loneliness, and why should I? Maybe a cat needs time alone. Maybe the universe ain’t as gnarly as I think.
“Well, you know what?” I wheel her toward the nearest planet civilized enough to have a decent bar. “Your sensors can suck it.”
May 31st, 2024
Akis is a writer of bizarre things, a biomedical AI scientist, and maybe human. He’s also a Greek that hops across countries as his career and exploration urges demand. Find his fiction at Apex, Dread Machine, Gamut, Apparition Lit, Heartlines Spec, and visit his lair for more: https://linktr.ee/akislinardosvailable in print and digitally)
more stories here
Also look out for:
Karl Dandenell’s Ruby, Throat and Gold – a dark fantasy about the arrogance of a usurper and the sweet revenge of a master of his craft.
Sean MacKendrick’s Keepers: mighty artwork designed to be seen from space -for a very good reason.
Kai Delmas’ Under Fire, Under Steel – robot armies and human dilemmas.
Lyndsey Croal’s – Space for One, a sci-fi tale about hard choices and living with the consequences.
Holley Cornetto’s The Orchard of Dreams, a wistful fantasy.
Or over a hundred other free flash fiction stories.
Wyldblood 15
Wyldblood 15 is available now
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Fifteen tales or adventure, intrigue and mayhem in the latest Wyldblood collection. Some are from names you may have seen before – Tiffani Angus, Michael Teasdale, David McGillveray, Kai Delmas – and some may be new to you, but all know how to write a finely crafted science fiction or fantasy tale. Available in print and digital formats.
From the Depths
Our latest anthology is packed with tales of the murky deep. We’ve got fifteen stories stuffed with selkies and sea monsters, pirates and meremaids, intrigue, adventure and more. Available in print and digitally.
ISBN 978-1-914417-15-3
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