Bulletproof Heart

Chapter 5

I jolt awake as though I've been burned. I lay in my hole in the ground, covered by my blanket of branches, and pant up at the sky as the cold sweat on my skin cools.

As the initial panic wears off, the bitter cold sets in, digging in through my skin to settle deep inside my bones until my joints are stiff with it.

I groan, my breath hanging in the air, and stand up, pulling my bag over my shoulder and stepping out of my hole. I have to start moving, otherwise I'll freeze to death.

I stumble across the land, tripping over tangles of roots and branches with my numb feet. My breath hangs in the still air, and I stick my hands deep in my pockets to keep them warm.

I spot something on the horizon, something orange and glowing and warm-looking. I move towards it, hoping its friendly fire.

Like a moth to flame, or whatever. A Whitenoise to flame.

The closer I get to the campfire, the more I can make out the figures huddled around it. I count three different people. I can tell that the colors of their clothing, illuminated by the fire, are too bright to be Drac-issued uniforms, and I can feel myself relax a little.

Other zone runners. Good.

However, what's not good is the way they're all pointing ray guns at me.

I can't make out their features, as they're silhouetted by the light of their fire.

My hands come up. "Don't shoot?"

I hear a laugh. "You know," a voice crows, "we simply must stop meeting like this!"

Next thing I know Fun Ghoul is grabbing me by the hand and pulling me closer to the fire. Jet Star is sitting across from the campfire, and to the right of him is someone I don't recognize.

"Damnit, Whitenoise, you're freezing," he frets over me, rubbing my arms like he's trying to get the circulation flowing again.

"I know," I say through chattering teeth. "'s kinda why I came over here."

"Kobra," Fun says to the other person present, a skinny guy with an angular face, "this is Whitenoise Explosion. She's good people. Whitenoise, meet Kobra Kid."

Kobra looks me up and down in an appraising sort of way, like I'm a product being hocked on the black market.

"Hello, Whitenoise," he says, slow, like he's choosing which words to say.

I wave at him with numb fingers.

"Here," Jet Star says, pressing a can full of warmth into my hands. "Drink this."

I obey, and take a gulp of the drink inside. It's coffee, dark and bitter and a little spiky, and it burns my throat in the best way possible on its way down.

When I've finished swallowing, I turn to my saviors.

"Thanks, you guys."

Fun bats a hand. "No, shh. It's no problem, really."

"What were you doing out there in the cold?" Jet asks.

I shrug. "It got dark." I take another sip of coffee. "I didn't have anywhere to go."

Fun pats me on the back, almost making me spill my coffee.

"Well, Whitenoise," he says. "You're welcome to share our fire tonight."

"Thanks, but you don't have to--"

Fun makes an abortive gesture. "No, no, no. Zip it. You're staying. You'll freeze to death if you don't."