James Axler – Trader Redux

Trader used to say that a chance around the next bend in the road was always worth waiting for.

EVENTUALLY IT WAS OVER. The women, sated by their pleasure, had gathered up their clothes and left the room. Three of the guards had also gone, with only Arkadin remaining behind.

“Want some water brought in for a wash?” he asked.

“Go fuck a dead stickie, you grinning bastard!” Trader was sitting on the side of the bed, peering at his lower stomach and groin, wiping away a thin smear of blood.

“Words don’t do no good, old man,” Arkadin replied. “Trying to help is all.”

Ryan stood, wincing at the stickiness that held him to the blankets, stretching to get some of the discomfort out of his body.

“Sure. Water’d be good. Hot if you got it.”

“We got it.” He turned toward the door. “Listen, all you have to do is sit quiet and do like the little ladies tell you. Baron can’t live forever. I don’t want to take orders from them two. Soyou could be barons here.”

“Not what we want!” Trader had the chilling light in his eyes, and Ryan worked to calm him.

“Could be right, Willard,” he said. “Let’s just take it easy. Get cleaned up.”

“Take a blowtorch to get me clean of that triple slut.” He punched his right hand into his left palm. “All right, all right. Get us some hot water and soap, sec man.”

“No point trying the balcony,” Arkadin said. “And there’s men at the door all the time.”

“What’ve you done with our blasters and knives?” Ryan asked.

“You’ll get them back, in the baron’s time. Until then they stay in his room.”

“Gettin’ dark,” Ryan said.

“Lamps on that table. I’ll send in some extra oil for them with the water.”

In the background they heard the shuddering cough of a gas wag starting up.

“What’s that?” Trader asked.

“Evening patrol.” Arkadin paused with his fingers on the handle of the door. “These bad quakes mean some changes to the land. Baron likes to know what they are.”

The door swung open, and they could see the instant attention of the four armed men outside.

“One thing, sec man,” Trader said.

“Sure.”

“This bullshit about husbands and weddings.”

“It’s not bullshit. You still don’t believe it?”

“Those women want to marry us?” Ryan laughed. “Why us? Fireblast! Doesn’t make sense.”

“Does when you realize we don’t see many outlanders. Mostly poor trash. Times are getting hard, boys, and husbands are real scarce.”

“So when are we all going to enjoy this happy event?” Ryan asked.

“Didn’t the little girls tell you?”

“They were much too busy fucking to do much talking,” Trader snapped.

“Day after next. Be a rehearsal noon tomorrow. Then it’ll be all systems go.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

As he knelt down, Doc’s overwhelming fear was that he wouldn’t be able to get it up, or he’d get it up and not be able to keep it up, or that he’d get it up, and then come in three-eighths of a second.

He was also conscious of the cold northerly wind blowing up his bare ass, his boots creaking in the sand and the shuffling of Judas in the undergrowth.

Most of all he was aware of the attractive middle-aged woman who lay spread and waiting for him.

As though she sensed his doubts and fears, Sukie reached up and gently cupped him in her hands, smiling up at him. “All right?” she whispered.

“Oh, indeed, yes,” he replied, feeling himself full and hard. “Oh, yes.”

“OUT BEYOND THE DARKNESS there are no stars.”

“How’s that, Doc?”

“Forgive me, my dear lady. I was not aware that I had put my thoughts into words.”

“Sounded like a poem.”

“My poor brain is so filled to overflowing with half-remembered quotes and memories that I can no longer distinguish one from another.”

“It was lovely.”

They were lying under the blanket, spoon-fashion, her buttocks pressed against him. To Doc’s bemused amazement they had already made love three times.

The first had been hurried and intense, both of them clinging together like drowning sailors, snatching at the moment with a fierce passion.