Team Human
The rain did nothing to cool Agatha’s temper. She’d just had a fight with her best friend. Her ex-best friend. What did she know? Her dad didn’t die on the frontline. Her mom wasn’t drunk all the time. Her fridge wasn’t empty so she had to beg for scraps from her neighbours, burning with shame and resentment. She didn’t know what it was like.
Agatha tossed her head and scowled at the dirty water running down the gutter. A long black car hissed up to the sidewalk. She saw her hazy reflection in the tinted window – she still couldn’t get used to her new look, then the door opened and a hand reached out of the dark.
Her new friends were so cool. With leather jackets and shaved heads, they looked like a band. Saffron held a glass half full of green liquid. Paisley was smoking a jay. Zeke pulled her into a deep embrace. He stroked her bare arm as the limo streaked through red lights.
The deluge pounded the windows as they splashed across town to the warehouse district and the crazy apartment Zeke called home. It was the whole top floor of one huge brick warehouse on the waterfront with hundreds of windows like eyes in its face.
There was a big hole where doors should have been and the limo drove through into a kind of courtyard where trees grew outta the concrete and vines trailed down from above. The stairwell was damp and smelled of mildew and Zeke told the others to hang back for a while. When they got to the penthouse, Agi started boiling water for a bath while Zeke took off his coat. He peeled off his black t-shirt and inhaled sharply.
Agi saw purple, almost black welts on his back like planets circling a dead sun. She ran to him as he poured a stiff measure of amber liquid into a glass, tossed it back. She rubbed his neck, gently massaging the back of his head, murmuring to him.
With the other hand, she touched his belly, traced along his belt line, slid one finger in and felt the scratchy pubic – He growled and pushed her away, poured another shot then went and leaned his head and forearm against the window.
She didn’t touch him. Yet. They both looked at the river – through the grime and filth it almost looked black. There was a certain grim beauty to it, she admitted it – the cold hard light glinting off the iron water. Dead birds floating, covered in oil. Rafts of detritus – she didn’t wanna think what – floating lethargically out to sea.
Sometimes I wish we never got into this war, said Zeke. His voice sounded strange. Tired. Beaten. But I’m not fighting for me. Or you. But the next generation. The next. What kind of planet are we leaving for our kids? That’s what’s important. It doesn’t matter how I feel. It doesn’t matter how much we sacrifice today as long as it makes for a better tomorrow.
The bath was ready and she guided him to it. Helped him into it. Began sponging the blood. She didn’t care about any of that. She didn’t care what her mom called him or her friends or her teachers. He wasn’t a guerrilla, freedom fighter, hero or terrorist. He was her man, the love of her life. She looked at the back of his head. Then she laughed. It was amazing – the baby just kicked.
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