Lower CoSMOS-Life of Lance Vier #6

“Now is the time we settle our differences.”

            My brain overloaded. All these people somehow are connected to me and my father who I never met, and knew nothing about. In front of Gothia, time stopped. Not that she controlled it, but the memory stayed firm as if I lost movement altogether because I began to cry more human tears. Uncontrollable. As much as I wanted to move my eyes away from her, I cried, yet they dried out as they left. They were locked onto hers, her beautiful endless eyes. And again, I was in them. Over and over. In her eyes, deepening inside the blackness of them as if a continual fall would not release me.

            “I am sorry!”

            Falling to my knees, I put my hands together and I pleaded with her. When Pibb called out to me to follow, he made a steady stride away, not bothering to check if I was behind him. Familiar with this woman, it is understandable he wanted to get away.

            She wouldn’t forgive me for something I never did to her regardless of my pleading.

            “My God! What have I done to you!” The words left my mouth and I still had no control over them nor was I aware of why they left my lips.

            “Lance! Shit, Lance,” Pibb noticed my state. I couldn’t do anything but stare at her. She changed to me. From the grounds near Diablo Red’s hangar, I was taken to a cramped space, hearing Pibb’s call. But inside the darkness, I pressed against something that would not allow me to move.

            “How’s it going?” she said. Gothia did not match up with her exterior. It brought some relaxation.

            Pibb’s voice faded.

            “Hello?” She said. There was too much confusion in my head to answer her.

            The darkness terrified me but the voice was close. The air of each word she spoke grazed my nose.

            “Somehow this is turning out to be a bad idea. I’m probably your mother’s age,” she said.

            “Where’s the light?” I said.

            “Ha!” She snorted and sucked in no air afterward, “It’s dead. That’s how it works. Much better down here. No noise. Peace. No people. I am hoping you’re good company. Light dies in here. Everything does.”

“What is that smell?” I said.

            My arms pressed tight on my sides and my shoulders in agony from the small dark compartment. The woman was next to me, my fingers touched the fringes of her garments.

            “Your bastard father would sadly approve of our being this close. Sick bastard,” she said, “I know. You’ll like this without me saying where we are. I can listen to it for hours and hours. Listen.”

            A thump hit the top of our compartment. Then a metal scraping sound, then another smack.

            “The cool thing is, it’s always the first scoop no matter what,” Gothia said.

            I didn’t answer. The people were new to me but spoke as if we were all close friends. These were still strangers. I barely identified Pibb, anyone else I made up my own mind about.

            “I finally get company and you can’t say anything?”

            From there, light returned, and I flung away from her, eyes open to the field again and thrown a great distance from where the miserable Gothia stood. I landed on the ground. After regaining strength, I lifted myself with my forearms. My head turned to Gothia. Confronting her was a woman Gothia’s height or a tad taller, two swords drawn in either hand. She wore a traditional samurai outfit with large metal rings around her wrists. I was too far away to hear their speech.

            A blasting propulsion noise came from above, I pulled myself up and glared toward the sky. Suspended above, a two-door gray sedan, the vehicle descended; strapped to the back, Pibb’s hand gave a thumbs up.

            “Come on,” he said.

            At Pibb’s side, on the bottom of the vehicle, room for one more. Putting the straps on, I didn’t have time to take on the physics of the car flying upright, perpendicular to the ground. Gothia and the samurai continued their stalemate.

            “Get on, kid. Or we leave you with the sulky one,” a loud voice said, as if able to via a loudspeaker in a used car lot addressing the time for an employee meeting. Two handles allowed you to grasp tight while the vessel sped away. We stared at the ground and the hangar in the distance. The Samurai argued with Gothia, jumping a few steps back to distance herself. Pibb turned his head to me to talk but his words muffled in with the passing air until I became accustomed to the sound.

            “Is it odd to think about my chair at home right now?” Pibb said.

            That was all he offered, but for the first time, I did notice a minute grin.

*****

            On our feet, we stood at a table with no chairs to sit on. We exchanged government food, bags of ‘Meat O’ Chips’ and Carnavorius Protein or ‘CP’ cans. The old man driving the car, who wore old ski goggles around his head, stood about five-ten, dyed black hair with grey coming out near his sideburns. He lobbed a can opener onto the table. The slippers he wore scraped the ground with each step. Flung around his sagging once muscular frame, a shotgun with a stock that resembled a giant hand.

            He went through his kitchen cabinets, fridge, and microwave, tossing an entrée left in it last night onto the table.

            “You’re welcome to that, I forgot it was in there,” he said. Some of the ‘meat’ sauce splashed onto Pibb’s jacket. He stared at me and wiped it with his hand and then on his pants.

            “Thank you, Quan,” Pibb said.

            “Yeah. The man can na come. Would I for the, yeah,” the man Quan said.

            “He’ll come around,” Pibb said and took the ‘Meat O’ Chips’ bag and opened it. He grabbed a few of them out and put the bag out for me to take some. I did.

            “The flavor you’ll never truly know,” Pibb repeated the bag’s motto.

            “Wagyu beef?” I stared at the bag.

            “It’s right, have you had it?” Pibb said. I shook my head.

            “It’s the boy’s favorite. I think they should call it piss chips,” Quan said from out of our sight in another part of the home.

            The door to the dank old and dilapidated apartment opened. The small female samurai came in and bowed at the entrance, not once, but twice. The second time she placed her fist in her hand at a low level.

            “Took you long enough, boy. I’m glad you didn’t make me go out there again,” Quan said from his living room. His voice seemed to stay only in the home.

            “Yes, sir. Master Quan,” she said and entered. Her eyes shot to Pibb. She ranged from early forties to mid-forties, with short brown hair, and light makeup. The clothes she wore appeared spotless, still in new condition. Her swords were tucked on her sides. She bowed to me and then stared at Pibb who lowered his head, not wanting the eye contact.

            “You eat all those chips, Pibb and I will kill you. Those are my last bags,” she said.

            “None of that gay stuff!” Quan said mumbling afterward.

            The Samurai rolled her eyes. She turned to me and bowed.

            “Shell,” she said.

            I bowed, wiping my face believing a shard of a chip hung on my lip.

            “How’s life alone, Pibbster? It’s what you wanted,” she said.

            Pibb shrugged, still keeping his eyes from her.

            “Everyone wants that nowadays, but I hear you’re married, Lance.”

            I nodded.

            She batted her eyes hoping for more conversation.

            “I have to give you praise, Shell. You never left the old man’s side,” Pibb said.

            “For you, I would have, Pibb. Temporarily. I am allowed that. But, he never left mine. Had you changed your mind about me, I would not have let him live alone like he is,” she said. The tension between the two made it uncomfortable. I allowed Pibb all the decisions up to now but I wanted to get home before my wife started to pick a new husband.

            “Thank you for helping me,” I said.

            “Thank you for not being like your father,” she said.

            I did not know how to take the jab at him from Shell. She meant every word. I knew little about him but still had the feeling of unease the way she spoke. Like a bitter rival, almost a delight that he is not here anymore; saving her the trouble of killing him.

            “We should be going then and yes, thank you,” Pibb said. Pibb stared at the table, grabbed the bag of meat chips, rolled up the top to prevent the air from making them stale, and put it down. He started forward and Shell’s hands snapped back to her swords. She grinned. Shell glared and me and motioned for me to leave. I exchanged glances with Pibb.

            “Go, Lance. This is something you can’t help me with,” Pibb said.

            The short time I have been around Pibb prevented my feet from moving. I wasn’t one to leave someone behind without knowing. She stared at me again.

            “Ah. No. Nothing like him,” she said. Leaving one hand on her sword and one out for Pibb, she backed up into the living room but maintained a steady focus on us. On entering, the chair Quan sat on squeaked and creaked after he stood; his steps ominous on approach.

            Shell made way for him to move past her and allowed him precedence over both of us.

            “If you need to speak do so slowly,” Shell said.

            “Now is the time we settle our differences,” Quan said and from behind flipped his shotgun forward to grab it, pointed at both of us.