The Pallbearer: Honeymoon Blues Part 4

Rising

The sun was rising when Cassie and I reached the outside. I had never been one that watched sunrises much before Chrysalis. I was too busy watching strange things happening around me to be bothered. This one though, this particular sunrise, got watched.

It was worth it.

Cassie saw it first as we came up the incline leading out of the tunnel we had walked for over thirty hours. Her head tilted to the right as she saw the sky. She stood that way for a moment, even as I kept walking, my eyes on the ground, trying to tug her forward. Then, just as my eyes started to tilt up and look at the thing pouring light across my toes, even as my Brute’s optics were finally deciding to come out of night vision mode, Cassie ran.

The Pallbearer: Honeymoon Blues Part 3

Reverant

I have always been accused as having a lack of proper respect for the important things in life. I think that got started the first time I put my gum in the collection plate. Nobody seemed very amused. I figured Jesus could use some gum. Must suck being stuck on that cross all the time. Y’know, the way I figured it, if his death was stopping us from being in hell, he must be there too. And you know, that only pissed off the priest all the more.

That was fine too though. I quite liked the idea that I wasn’t well liked. Never really felt like polishing the holy pole myself.

But here, here, I think they’d all have to shut their fucking mouths.

The Pallbearer: Honeymoon Blues Part 2

Tunnel of Love

Talking had somehow become a festival of stumbling words and bumbling sentiments. When had I become a tangled mess? When had I become a garbage pile of broken ideas and half-finished thoughts? As Cassie and I made our way down the recently cleared road to the Gray Pack village at the entrance to the tunnel they had come through, we spoke little. I had been fighting for the better part of a year to be with her and now that I had her, I had my tongue cut out?

How goddamned stupid.

The Pallbearer: Honeymoon Blues Part 1

Forté

The walls of my new junkyard district were overrun with refugees. They were rats fleeing a sinking ship for another one that had only begun its descent. Bellmaker’s Errata were almost back to full strength with only two hundred memory chips left to implant into a functioning robot but it wasn’t enough. Even up to the original six thousand they had been before West Worthington’s purges, they had to stop all construction in order to simply monitor the tide of immigrants. Alithea and her mate Nar had their thousands working to try and build shelters for themselves AND the refugees. They too were swamped under our new popularity. That was something to this empire running that I hadn’t considered.

That people would want in.