the bitterness of one who's left alone Who: Emilie Galloway and James Hawkins Where: Subway Tunnels What: Rodeo drops off a present for the APD & then gets a little weird with his favorite ghoulfriend. When: Before dawn, October 9, 2018
disarm you with a smile and cut you like you want me to cut that little child inside of me and such a part of you oh, the years burn
i used to be a little boy, so old in my shoes and what i choose is my choice what's a boy supposed to do?
It's something that's always chilled him. They want a live meal. Those gnashing teeth like the taste of fight. Unless a body's still warm, they won't take to it much. After a certain point a corpse becomes scenery. The blood don't pump, the horde ain't interested. It's why Rodeo isn't too worried about a geek picking apart his display like a coon in a trash can. Even the hungriest shuffler wouldn't make a meal of these maggot bags. Several of the bodies have been baking in the hot sun, and they smell like it too. It doesn't bother Rodeo much, but the prospects lending him a hand occasionally show a wince. At least none of 'em have hoarked, which endears them to Rodeo significantly.
The bodies are stacked up in a crude and hasty pile on the lawn. It's just past 3:00 AM, and the Capitol is a sleeping dragon. Any second it could breathe down hellfire on their backs, and their work is quick and imperfect. Not even a grunt is uttered as they transfer the corpses from the back of a black van, then dump a pile of firearms beside them. As much as Rodeo is loathe to part with such righteous weaponry, he knows this is the best use for them. He couldn't trust those cat scratch AK's to fire true, anyhow. Dirty guns, still smellin' like pig shit. Better to use 'em to make a point.
And he's got a point to make. He's sure if the Mayor is in contact with Los Nahuales, they'll hear about how these bodies were left. Not just that they were dumped here, but how it was done. That's fuel for the fire and Olinger knows it. The Mayor is a vengeful god, and he'll proselytize his wrath to anyone with an ear to listen. As a prospect called Toast tosses the last gun onto the pile, Rodeo heads back to the van and drags over a box from the back. He opens it up, drawing out the last piece-- the head cut from the cat questioned by Vic and Bishop. A torn off scrap of cardboard has been staple gunned to the forehead, and Rodeo strides back to the guns to set down the head like a cherry on top.
"Sick," Toast breathes.
"It's alright, man," Rodeo shrugs, pulling off the black gloves he wears and tossing them into the back of the van along with the black sweatshirt he'd been wearing over his clothes. He left his cut at home-- it's bad enough wearing it out of the park right now, he sure as hell ain't gonna go down where Dogs fear to tread wearing a crown on his back. "No worries. Fella had a cross tattoo, so you know he's goin' to heaven."
"That how it works?" Toast snorts.
"Sure does. Everybody knows if you got a cross tattoo you automatically get into heaven," Rodeo nods sagely, shutting the doors of the van as the two other prospects load in from the front. "If it's tribal you get a free chicken nachos appetizer."
"Whatever you say," Toast says, heading for the driver's side door. "See you back at camp?"
"Nah, brother. I gotta stop by a friend's," Rodeo says, starting to head towards the far side of the block where he left Kali. "Tell 'em don't wait up. I'll be back by breakfast."
As the van pulls away from the curb, Rodeo hooks his leg over the bike and starts it up. Kali growls, a hungry beast beneath him as he launches into motion. He crosses the blocks to the entrance into the tunnels he'd met Emilie at nine days ago, when he'd stood at the mouth of the dark with anxious energy tying him into knots. Now his mood is different. It's a slow burn, his movements all hard and focused with the frustrated, restless brooding that dogs him. He parks Kali in a nearby alley where she can't be seen from the street and then heads towards the staircase that leads down into the tunnels, drawing out his phone to text Emilie. Knock knock. Come be my sherpa, baby.