Crimson Rain (16 page)

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Authors: Tex Leiko

Tags: #Fantasy

BOOK: Crimson Rain
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C

mon, sleepyhead! Wake up!


I

m trying to! Stop hitting me, you frickin

lunatic! Damn it, you can be a beast!

he shouted back, less than playful.


Yep, I sure can. Now, get a shower and change. There are clothes that might fit in the dresser
across the hall in the
other
guest room
. I

ve started breakfast and I need to get back to it before it burns. What if I was an intruder, by the way? You would be dead for certain. Some good that gun would have done you under your head.


When you shook me awake, I knew it was you! Of course I wasn

t going to go for the gun. Knowing you, you would have had me disarmed and been pistol whipping me with it before I could even take the safety off!


True. Now get showered and dressed. You

ve got a big day ahead of you,
Doctor Max Hall, MD.


I get the feeling you

re making fun of me when you say
Doctor Max Hall,

he said as he rolled his legs over the side of the bed and stood.

He opened his arms wide one more time, letting his pectorals stretch. He yawned loudly and bent down and touched his toes. He despised mornings, but somehow, yelling at Crimson had put him in a better mood to face the day. He

d started out angry when she was hitting him with the pillow, but as he yelled, he began to feel playful, almost like he should hit her with a pillow back in good spirits.

Max was always awkward
,
though
,
and didn

t quite know how to treat girls who roughhoused with him. He liked Crimson; it was obvious, and he was beginning to feel a bit like a jerk for yelling. He knew he

d sounded gruffer than he meant.

As he continued to stretch, Crimson proceeded on her way out of the room. She was wearing tight blue jeans with a pattern on them of flames and dragons. She had
on
a short
,
camisole
-
styled shirt
that was burnt orange in color
that showed her midriff, and a tan shawl that covered
only
her shoulders and the upper portion of her chest.

Max loved her style. It was always unique. He had already seen her in three completely different outfits and he couldn

t help but imagine what else she might have in her wardrobe. As she got close to the doorframe, only about a foot away from him, his body was overtaken by a sudden spark of playfulness. Without warning, he leapt toward her, tackling her to the floor unexpectedly.

They both hit the short blue carpet that covered the floor with a thud. The breath was slightly knocked out of Crimson as they hit. She would have retaliated quickly and put him in his place if it wasn

t for the fact that he was giggling like a child on top of her. She contorted her body and rolled facing him.


Guess I deserved that, eh, doctor?

she asked, eyeing him playfully.


Sure did. Sorry for being so grumpy, but you woke the beast in his cave.


Good to know the beast takes a long time to awaken before he pounces. Not to kill the playful atmosphere or anything, but I need to go attend to breakfast before it burns.


Nope. You

re at my mercy now,

Max said as he got his hands ready to tickle her.

W
ithout warning, she leaned up and bit his bottom lip, hard.


Unhand me or else I

ll show you a real beast,

she mumbled. Her words were muffled by the fact she had his lip between her teeth.


Okay, okay,

he said, putting his hands up in surrender as he stood.

She clung with her teeth to his lip until she had it stretched as far as she could.
Right
as he reached the threshold, she released him, allowing him to stand all the way. With that, she extended her arm and Max helped her to her feet. He showered and she finished cooking breakfast.

When he had come out to the kitchen, he had picked out for himself a pair of tan slacks he had found in the guest room and a collared button
-down
blue shirt with white pin striping. It was simple, comfortable, and looked professional enough for his clinic. Not that any of his patients would even care, but he did.

They sat at the table in the living room of the house. It appeared to not get a lot of use. There was room for about six people to sit
. H
owever, there were
only
two plates of food out on one corner of the table. Crimson had already decimated most of her food and he felt as if he had some catching up to do. He sat down and began eating. It was still warm so he knew he hadn

t delayed too long in joining her
.
S
he
is
a
really
quick eater
, he thought
.


So, I knew you in high school. We even had two years at the same college. You never paid any attention to me. You were always popular, and you never seemed to care for anyone but yourself. What made you change, Max?


Who says I

ve changed?


I do. You were known to be the smartest kid in the school no matter where you went. Everyone knew your parents gave you a boost up in life
;
every bot Synaptix made for intelligence, memory, critical thinking, and more, you had
them all
. It was no secret your parents wanted you to be smart enough to change everything. You knew you were smart and you were cocky and self
-
absorbed, the most likely to be some big researcher and make billions. However, you opened a clinic in the middle of the worst area of this city. A clinic that treats the poor who can

t afford all of
the
modern cures with patients who can barely pay you enough to keep your doors open. How do you explain this? Why not be out there researching more cures and ways to advance mankind? Why not make a big change?


Would I really be making a big change if I were a researcher? Sure, I could come up with a new treatment for some disease, but only the rich could afford it. Am I really changing anything if I do that?
What if I make billions and with the money, open a charitable clinic like I have now to treat the poor? Would the person I put in charge really care for the people who come in? Or will they do it
from a mere
obligation to get a paycheck? If you ask me, I

ll leave the research to the greedy, let them

better humanity, make a difference.

As for me, I would rather be on the front lines. I would rather be the one treating the afflicted with my own hands.


It

s no secret I lived a life of luxury growing up. Even now I have a portion of my parents

wealth that gets me by. I was self
-
absorbed. I didn

t care. I did want to be rich… But then I walked th
r
ough the poor area one day and the things I saw struck me. I know it sounds corny, but I thought to myself,

how could I ever be happy with myself knowing there are people who deserve to be cared for dying in the streets
,
in my very own back yard, so to speak?


Alas, I

ve been thinking lately, and I

ve realized over the last five years, I haven

t made the change I want to. I don

t know what it is, but there has to be a better way for me to help everyone; not just the rich, not just the middle class, not just the poor…but everyone.

His eyes were deep hazel in color and burned with a reflection of sincerity and passion. He meant what he said, and though he had already spoken for a couple of minutes, Crimson could tell he had a lot more to say. There was more to his story; there was more to his passion, but for now, she would leave things as-is.


Very impressive, and it wasn

t bullshit like I was expecting. Well, later when we meet up with Zarfa, I

ll explain what I am trying to do. Maybe you can make a big change.

Crimson finished her last couple of bites
,
stood up, walked over to the sink, rinsed her plate, and left it there.

Just leave it there when you

re done,

she said as she disappeared down the hallway where he knew her bedroom was located.

When she came back, she had a gun on her hip and a plasma dagger in its sheath on her inner right thigh. She was holding another longer plasma blade in its sheath in her hand. Judging by the sheath, it was about the same length and shape as a Wakizashi sword.


A present for you; you may need it. Knowing me is a health hazard,

she stated, tossing it in his direction.

Max grabbed it in the air and smiled.

Like I could even use this thing to defend myself.


You use a scalpel sometimes, don

t you?


It isn

t the same. The patients usually aren

t moving, and they usually aren

t trying to kill me.


Well, at least you know where to aim to kill someone who is trying to kill you. Let

s go, I told Zarfa mid-day and it is already ten-thirty. If we leave now, we can make it to the clinic by eleven. Plus, I am sure you

ve got some patients that would like to see you.


You would think, but even practically free care isn

t being used much these days. It seems strange. When I first started, I treated diseases and conditions daily. Now, it seems like nobody needs me, but I know these diseases haven

t
disappeared;
only
the patients have.


Strange,

she said, as if she knew the answer why.

* * * *

When Zarfa woke in the morning, he was lying on the couch in his living room. He slept there because of the sprawling puddle of dried, rotting blood on his bed. His nose and stomach revolted at the stench of it decaying on his sheets; the flies buzzing around his apartment had no doubt been laying their eggs in it all night long.

Of all the things we killed in the
G
reat
E
xtinction, why couldn

t flies have been one of them?
He gagged on the thought of maggots wriggling around all over his bed. He glanced over to the doorway and saw his backpack with the Psyker nanobot treatments there
,
and his mind raced back to earlier that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he recalled all that had occurred.

How did I hear Badger before I had even met him?

Zarfa stood and looked at the alarm clock by his bedside. Ten-twenty-two; it was about the time he always slept until. With his job of fighting in the underground matches, he usually didn

t finish work and get to bed until two or three in the morning so even though he was exhausted from his now healed injuries, he really hadn

t stayed up much later than he was used to.

Zarfa walked over to his bedside and opened the drawer to the nightstand that his alarm clock rested on. Inside the drawer was an array of boosts; he used them on occasion and felt it best to have one of every sort lying around. He reached in and pulled out a neon yellow one clearly marked

energy

on the label. He popped off the cap, stuck the small needle into his arm, and shot it in.

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