The Tales of Twisted Felix Katt (Book 1)

Against the Dying (NaNoWriMo)

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.- Dylan Thomas

“You have got to be kidding me!” I shouted out, my smooth running gait turning into a pain filled hobble as every movement I made jarred the small slug that had come up and bit me in the hip. I was one hand’s breadth away from pulling a Van and getting shot in the ass. Close, but no cigar. Still, it made every movement forward a screaming agony, and I didn’t dare stop running so I could do a proper pout and temper tantrum. I was too busy fleeing the massive flock of friends the bullet in my hip brought with her.

Even with my bleeding self slowing us down, we made it around the edge of a building before the rest of the bullets found their mark. This isn’t like it the holo-vids where the heros avoid death by bullet because their enemies have gone to the storm trooper school of shooting. These guards could hit what they fired at. I’d been wanged by a stray shot, and my scream of pain had grabbed us more attention. They were looking for us when we skirted around the building, a half second after Rorick cleared, near a hundred bullets peppered the wall.

I was just distinctly hoping that whoever had been left alive to fire at us didn’t assume we were the assholes who set off the bombs. Because if they thought we were the guilty party, no one would stop chasing us, and then everyone would be after us. And between Van and I, we had enough of an arsenal in our bags that people would believe we were the perpetrators. This day just keeps getting better and better.

On the flip side, the moment we weren’t in immediate danger of being riddled with holes and other uncomfortable phenomenon, Rorick grabbed me and pulled my pants off. Now before I could get all excited by that turn of events, he poured a healthy dose of antiseptic into the bleeding wound, and stuffed the edge of his hand into my mouth so it would muffle my screams of pain. Leaving the side of his hand in my teeth, Rorick dug into the wound with his big, blunt fingers and grabbed the slug, throwing it aside. Just the fact that he could do that let me know that the wound wasn’t all that serious. I’d probably worn a ricochet or else the bullet would have gone deeper. But the fun with the hole in my hip wasn’t over yet ladies and danglies! Oh no, now that the wound had been doused, probed and doused once more for prosperity, I got to have a sticky shoved in it.

A sticky is a self expanding bandage that is a synthetic polymer imitating skin. What that means in injured idiot terms that I can understand is that it plugged up the holes so you didn’t bleed to death. The point was to give you more time to get to the doctor. In my case, this was all the medical attention I could receive, so I wiped the tears of pain off my cheeks and pulled up my big girl pants. I rubbed Rorick’s hand where I’d bitten down, but I hadn’t even broken skin. Resisting the urge to kiss it better, I dropped his hand and let the big man haul me to my feet.

“This reminds me of the day we met.” Van snickered, obviously enjoying the fact that she wasn’t the one with a bullet hole in her pants. I felt a smile quirk my lips as I realized that she was right.

I’d had Rorick for over a year by this point, and while things hadn’t gotten entirely comfortable between us, we’d gotten used to each other. He knew that I was a Runner, and that the jobs I took would range from the top secret to the highly illegal, and he was all for helping out. It surprised him the first time I gave him a cut of the profits, and we’d ended up in a huge argument over the fact that he was technically not allowed to own anything. The latest Run was a simple charter, a group of religious fuzzy wuzzies who wanted to go to Gaia, the central planet that was all about the Goddess.

I’m about as spiritual as your average lettuce leaf. I’ll use her name in vain, I’ll cuss, curse, scream it during sex and when I go under the knife for anesthetic but I won’t step foot into one of her Houses. For one, I wasn’t welcome because I was a lowly Runner. For another, I didn’t want to be surrounded by that many hypocrites. So you can guess where I found Van.