Fiction: Ray's Honey Pots, Part Sixteen

I open the door to Mr Oberfitch. Of course, he's holding his cat, an elderly ginger tom named Sergeant.

"I heard you talking to those men," he says in his scratchy little voice, "You're as much a tomboy as ever."

I let myself smile briefly. I'm still shaking from resisting Williams' attempts to use The Loop on me.

"I could use your help," I say.

"After all the times you've looked after Sergeant for me, I owe you."

"You don't owe me," I say, "Sergeant is just about the only thing I like about this place." I reach out and pet the cat. He purrs and closes his rheumy eyes. I stop shaking as I feel the vibrations.

"What can I do?" Oberfitch asks.

"Unfortunately, it means putting Sergeant down so you can carry a person," I look at his small, wiry frame and have my doubts, "Can you carry a woman, you think? She's probably one-thirty pounds. I need to get her to the car I've got parked out back, but I need to be able to shoot anyone who gets in my way."

"She in trouble?" he asks.

"We both are," I say, risking honesty, "But mainly she's in trouble because of me."

"Why can't she walk?"

I'm getting tired of these questions. He must notice my slight eye roll or puff of air, because he shakes his head and turns back toward his own door.

"I'll put Sergeant in my apartment and be right back."

When he's ready, I lead Oberfitch to my bedroom. The room reeks of sex, even with the window ajar. Either he doesn't notice or he's just polite, he doesn't say anything but, "Nice quilt."

"We'll wrap her in it so she stays comfortable," I say. He nods and moves to stand at one side of the bed. I notice his hands are gentler than mine, tucking the quilt under her as I push her body towards him. He isn't much larger than her but he picks her up with only the quietest of grunts.

"She's only a little heavier than Sergeant," he whispers. I grin at him.

"Can you make it down?" I ask.

"Yep, so long as we keep moving," he says, already on his way toward the open bedroom door.

I slide in front of him and open my apartment door, gun at the ready. The hallway is clear and I move ahead to check the elevator's numbers, making sure it's not coming toward us. It's resting at ground level, so I move further ahead to open the stairwell door. It, too, is clear. I hold it open for Oberfitch and risk the barest glance at Lucy, still sleeping soundly.

As I make my way down the stairs I wish I'd had the presence of mind to have given Lucy a sleeping pill before taking her sexually, or even in lieu of making her orgasm 'till she passed out, but I had to admit my brain didn't work like that. At least, not when I'm that aroused, not when I'm the monster. Now there's nothing to do but hope that exhaustion keeps her asleep; I didn't even think to pack sleeping pills.

The doors at the second and first floor hallways are closed. I pause at each one to open them, making sure there's no one waiting. The halls are empty, so I continue down the last half-flight of stairs to the alleyway door, Oberfitch right behind me.

I look at him, incline my head toward the wall next to the door. He understands and moves to stand with his back to the wall, minimizing his and Lucy's exposure to whatever might be waiting out there. I crack the door open, pushing it away from me with my foot. Nothing. No sound but the slight squeal of ungreased hinges.

I look out. There's the rental car to the left, the dumpster just beyond it, the plastic slat and chainlink fence beyond the alley. I strain to see the shadows of feet beyond the dumpster but I really can't tell.

"I'll need to put her down soon," Oberfitch whispers.

I step out of the shelter of the doorway, hold the door open with my free hand and peer around the door. Nothing. No one. I can hardly believe it.

Once Oberfitch is past me I let go of the door and move ahead of him again, check around the side of the dumpster to make sure it's clear before I open the door to the back seat. Oberfitch grunts more loudly this time as he strains to get Lucy in headfirst without dropping her ass on the pavement. I race around to the other side, open the other door, and grip her by the shoulders to help scootch her in.

I gently close the door on my side, my neighbor closes the door on his. We look at each other over the roof of the car.

"Thank you," I say, my voice warm and nearly breaking.

He walks around to my side and opens the driver's door for me.

"Something I learned in the war. . ." he says, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" I say. I actually want to hear what he has to say.

"The people who we left behind, the ones we thought we were fighting for, they didn't want to be left behind. They wanted to be right there with us. Part of our job, depending on how you look at it, was to fight for their continued innocence."

"No one's innocent," I say.

"Yeah, that's part of it," he says as he turns to leave. He doesn't look back, just uses his keycard and disappears back into the building.

I get in the car, buckle myself in, start the engine, sync the iPhone to the car's Bluetooth, and verify the ammo's still in the purse on the front passenger seat before heading off.