Mis-colored

"I want to follow you forever," Jasper said, following behind Andre, dragging a red toy wagon full of very sharp implements and assorted nasty objects.  She was a quiet girl, except for saying that a lot, which Andre could abide.  She looked oddly studious; out of place in her carefully kept but slightly out of fashion clothes and large circular glasses.  A post apocalyptic librarian following a large black man in a suit.  Plus the wagon. He laughed.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.  "Why does that make you laugh.  I'm supposed to."

"No, I was just thinking.  You look like a post-apocalyptic librarian."  She blushed.

"It's not bad." She smiled a little too proudly, and he amended the statement.  "Like... it's not good or bad.  But it's not bad.  Just odd."   Too much; she frowned.

"I'm not sure I like being called odd."  The girl always made him feel guilty.  Like the worst big brother ever. He sighed.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."  She shrugged, a gesture of "no-harm-done."

"It's OK.  You do it a lot, though."  He nodded.

"I'm not really used to being around girls."  She frowned again.

"Not that I think of you like a girl, either.  I mean, I wouldn't do anything with you.  Not that you're ugly, you're not.  I'm just saying when you're with me-"

"So you mean-" she asked eagerly.  It was so odd, she was like a little kid.  A very dangerous little kid.

"No, you can't 'follow me.'  I don't even know what that means.  But it's fucking creepy."

"I'm useful," she said seriously.

"That's becoming obvious," he shivered.  She frowned.

"I don't like you being afraid of me."

"Deal.  Bitch-you-are-scary," Andre said very slowly.  She frowned and nodded.  "I know it's not your fault," he added, touching his hand to her back affectionately.

"I don't like her," she said, shivering.  She clutched herself as though it was cold (it wasn't,) the outlines of elaborate scar designs peeking out from the slightly prudish neckline of her blouse.

"I don't like her either.  But she's damn useful."  Andre stopped at the top of the road.  She squinted and rubbed her eyes a little in the sunlight.  The parking lot was filled with shamblers; it looked like the pharmacy was still open.  "Doors look OK.  I can push them around in those cars and she'll be... well maybe not safe but-"

"Andre, I don't like her," Jasper said.  Andre shrugged.

"Japser, she's going to come out regardless.  Might as well make her useful."  Jasper nodded, and sat by the side of the road.

"You know anyone could come by here," Andre said, and Jasper shrugged.

"Sun's already going down."  Andre pulled his machete.  Jasper knelt and bit her lip, quivering.  She wasn't afraid, but it all made her feel very uncomfortable.  Like a roller coaster that runs just a few circles too long.  She closed her eyes and prayed.  Then she sighed with relief.

"I think we're good!," Jasper said excitedly starting to rise.

"Bull-shit 'we're good,'" Andre said, pressing the machete against her neck hard enough to leave a thin red line of blood.  She frowned.

"Andre, it's really OK tonight."  He nodded, then pulled his Bulldog.  He didn't pull back the hammer, but he pressed it to her forehead.  She knew he'd do it if he had to.  They had that sort of working relationship.

"Bullshit, Ryder.  Don't you game me." Andre waited patiently.  Jasper sighed.

"Hello, Red Ryder," Andre said.

"You're a dick," Jasper/Red Ryder said, falling back down to her knees.

"Yeah, yeah.  Parking lot, interior of the building."

"That's going to take all night!" Red Ryder groaned.

"A few good hours of it.  But you'll follow me in there tomorrow.  So think about it less as doing what I want than as 'life insurance.'" Red Ryder shrugged, selecting two miss-matched knives from the wagon.

"I'd go blunt," Andre said.

"Baby, I love it when you talk shop," Red Ryder said, rolling her eyes.  She came out of the wagon with an aluminum tee ball bat.  She appraised Andre.

"I have the drop on you.  Besides, who'd look after Jasper."

"I don't know what she sees in you," Red Ryder said, suddenly touching her arm and raising an eyebrow, "You haven't-"

"No," Andre said simply.

"I wouldn't be super-mad at you if you have," Red Ryder said.

"Just regular mad," Andre said.

"Just regular mad."

"No, I haven't."  Red Ryder nodded and went back into the wagon, coming out with a meat hook.  Andre looked at her quizzically.

"For... like... hook and then the bat?" She said.  She mimed what she was intending.  It looked awkward.

"You watch too many movies.  Does it always have to be two?"  Red Ryder shrugged.

"Kinda.  One handed fucks up my symmetry something awful."  She went back into the wagon and came out with length of steel rebar.  Andre shrugged.

"You could do worse."  Red Ryder nodded, giving the two weapons a few test swings.

"You might find a gun down there."  Andre said.

"Maybe."

"You could try it, but let's be honest... for the time being, no one can look after Jasper like I can."  Red Ryder nodded again.  "How far could you get before the sun came up?  Even if you got the jump on me first thing, could you make it in twelve hours?"  Red Ryder tilted her head.

"I have to try.  It's not right, what you're doing."  Red Ryder said.  Andre thought it over.

"It's not exactly wrong either.  I do look after Jasper."

"Would you if you didn't have me to blackmail?"  Red Ryder said skeptically.

"Probably not so well, no.  But I do like her."

"This is like doing time for another person's crime."  Andre laughed.

"And what are you in for?"

"Weakness," Red Ryder said with a sigh.


Andre frowned, trying to decipher the dream.  Jasper was curled napping in his arm.  She was in her underclothes, her dress too stained with gore to wear comfortably.  They'd found a small stream and he'd helped her wash off the blood, and then laid in the moss to take a nap.  The dead things were kept easily at bay, and things were quiet.  But the dream was unsettling.  He never knew if he could trust them; the "business-man" kept a lot of secrets.  Even when you're being lied to, knowing that is something.  But not much.  He frowned.

"What's wrong, Andre," Jasper said, large eyes peeking out from his shoulder.

"Nothing, go back to sleep."

"Why don't you tell me about your dreams?"  He hesitated.  "I tell you about my dreams."

"It's just-"

"I don't tell her anything about what we say!" Jasper said.

"I believe you," Andre said.

"No, you don't." Jasper said, pouting a little.  He ruffled her hair.

The hatred flared.  He pushed ignored the information his body fed him.  He didn't care to hear any any more.  The guitar and the coat were enough.  He was a serious operator.  Dangerous.

"Just... OK, listen.  Someone's coming."

"One of the bad men," Jasper said.

"We're all bad," Andre said, picking up the machette.  In the distance, a wolf howled.

"Just wait!" Jasper said, wrapping his arms around his.  "Maybe he'll go away!"  Andre pulled away and stood, brushing the moss and dirt off his brand new suit.

"Nobody just goes away anymore," Andre said, letting the hate rise in him this time.  No use trying to contain it anymore.  He let it fill him up.

"She'll be here in just a few minutes, Andre!" Jasper said, going to her wagon.

"I know, but not soon enough." Andre said, "He's just down the hill.  Plus she's not exactly my biggest fan.  Complicates things.  I've got this.  You see that drainage pipe?"  Andre pointed to the large pipe fed the creek a few dozen yards upstream.

"The sewer?" she said hesitantly.

"Yes, but it's not the sewer.  It's drainage.  Like, runoff and stuff.  Not that bad.  Rainwater."  Andre said.

"Rainwater," Jasper said seriously.

"Now listen.  You get two knives."

She did.

"Now, you don't go for his balls," Andre said.  "Anyone peeks their head into that drainage ditch, just ignore their boybits.  Go for the eyes.  Man can't do nothing if he can't use his eyes." She nodded.

"If you get one in, just run.  Even if she's close.  You let Ryder worry about Ryder.  You look out for Jasper.

"Andre, if you'll just wait a few minutes, she'll be here," Jasper whispered sadly.

"That doesn't exactly make things better for me," Andre said, "Get in the pipe."

"She doesn't hate you, you know," Jasper said.  Andre nodded.

"I know.  But she doesn't trust me with you."

"She doesn't know you."

"Thanks.  Get in the pipe.  If you see any face but mine, stab it."

"You should learn to trust people," Japser said.

"I've got the rest of my life," Andre said; only semi-ironically.

She nodded.  He turned toward the road, machete in his grip.  He let his anger flow out in waves towards the one with the wolf.  He puffed his chest out.  He flexed.  He broad-casted: I'm a gentleman with whom you don't fuck.  The reply was similar.  He stepped over the road, and confronted the man with the guitar.



"Jesus fuck! What is wrong with you people!" The man in the patchwork coat growled, pulling the the pen knife out of his bloody socket.  Blood ran down the finish of his Johnny Cash black guitar.  Red Ryder held a kitchen blade; but Fen held Red Ryder.  His jaws held her by the throat.  A Fender; Red Ryder approved.

"Fen, off."  The said, collapsing against pipe wall.  "She's just a dumb kid.  's not her fault.  My names Demitri.  My friends call me... well, shit, who's got friends left.  But they called me that too.  And you are?"

Red Ryder thought for a moment.  Then she fell sobbing into the rainwater.

"Aww, shit," Decker said, doing his best to help that he could considering his condition; Red Ryder thought that was sweet.  Still...

"I'm fine!  Are you OK?" Red Ryder asked.

"Not exactly.  But it's fixable.  Kinda," Demitri said.  "I just ain't gonna be so pretty."

"Still, it's your eye!"

"Don't worry about it.  Listen, there's something I gotta tell you about your friend."

"I'm sorry," she said, "He said to.  With the eye,"  Ryder stammered.

 "Let's just not talk about it," Demitri said, "Ugh and I got sewer water in my guitar."

"Rainwater," Red Ryder said.

"Not exactly better by much, but OK.  So your friend.  He was kind of different."

"I know," Red Ryder said quietly.

"I had to kill him," Demitri said.

"I know."   She was surprised that it made her a little sad.

"So you know about the..."

"Kind of," she said.

"What's your name," Decker said.

"Jasper," Red Ryder said.

"Those glasses kind of make you look like a librarian," Demitri said.

Red Ryder frowned.  Jasper had told her about that.

"Thanks.  A friend used to say that," Red Ryder said, a tiny tear rolling down her cheek.

"Hey, sometimes..." Decker hesitated, digging into his pocket to pull out some newspaper; he wiped her cheek "Sometimes good people don't do such good things."

"You don't have to comfort me," Red Ryder said politely.

"Good, cause I'm not exactly good at it."

"You do OK," Red Ryder said.  "Going south?"

"I go all over.  Musician," Demetri said.  They sat quietly for a while.

"So, I have a delicate question to ask you," Demitri said, finally.

"Andre's body," Red Ryder said.

"Yeah, I mean if not... you know... no big deal."

"You don't talk to a lot of girls, do you?" Red Ryder said.

"Not as many as I used to," Demitri said, neither proud nor humble.

"Andre would have liked you," Red Ryder said.  She said it was all right; Decker went to retrieve an eye.  Red Ryder estimated the time.

 Just enough time to decide what to do about the musician.  Settle things one way or the other.

She sat down on the edge of the wagon and thought about what was best for Jasper.