The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 10: Ain't No Sunshine (Part 3 of 6)

The bright lights of Bourbon Street stretched into a kaleidoscope of blurring colors. Emily forced herself not to squint. Her contacts were still in her bag, drying out in the trunk of Nikki's car. If she had any idea that helping Amy would lead her further east instead back home, Emily would have slipped them into her purse before they entered the marina.

It was far from ideal to work half blind but it probably helped her look as drunk as she was pretending to be—so long as she didn't squint too much. Keeping her glasses on wasn't considered. The old rules were too ingrained. She had to occupy her role completely. So her glasses were in her purse and she was dressed ten years younger than she should be.

When she'd left the hotel, Emily had been self-conscious about her bare midriff, but the outlandish and horrific dress of the other revelers put her at ease. Compared to some of the people out that night, she was practically prudish.

The street was filled with bodies staggering from inebriation. Many clung to plain plastic cups or silly neon colored vessels a yard long or shaped like a hand-grenade. The buzz of music spilling out from the clubs and screamed conversations created a tinnitus rattle in Emily's ears. You'd think it was some big event. New Year's Eve. D-Day. The Saint's winning the Super Bowl. But it was just an ordinary Saturday night. This was why Emily had always loved New Orleans and why she chose to ditch the stolen car she'd picked up in Houston here and stop for a couple of days. She was nearly out of money and on Bourbon the pickings were easy. These tourists came here from their dull, straight-laced lives and threw all the rules away. They behaved with total abandon and were the perfect low lying fruit to scrape together some quick cash.

She'd already lifted eighty bucks from a conventioneer on the corner of Toulouse and an uncounted money clip from a shitfaced hipster who plowed into her nearly knocking her over. He did it so it looked like a drunken accident, but by the time he steadied himself, he had managed to cop a feel. It had caught her by such surprise she almost slapped him instead of rooting through his pockets while he was distracted. Almost. So long as it wasn't only a wad of ones, the pervy grope would be worth it.

She approached a group of middle-aged men outside a club smoking and asked if they could spare a cigarette.

Doing this alone was risky. If she had a partner she could slip him the loot so she'd never be holding the evidence. Each stash she tucked away was a time bomb. And only going for cash would move things along dreadfully slow. But she had no leads on a fence, so watches and jewelry did her no good at all.

Emily figured they'd need a few hundred before they could hit the road again. Living on the run as often as she had, she knew the math. A few hundred meant a thousand or two. The longer she took to collect the money, the more food and accommodations would eat away at the earnings.

Rooms weren't cheap. Not even the shithole they were staying in. Amy was pretty disgusted by it. Said the smell was unbearable. Pretty damn picky for someone raised in a metal box, Emily thought.

The tension between her and Amy was higher than she expected. The whole sulky, angst ridden teenager act had grown tiresome fast. It made her dread what she'd face with Aaron in a few years. Amy had been happy and well-adjusted in The Music Box—well, as well-adjusted as one could expect, anyway. Out here, she just seemed miserable. Maybe she was better off in confinement. Perhaps she'd be happier if they just returned to the underground lab. But that wasn't an option.

But there was more to it than that.

Emily was growing increasingly uneasy about being out there. What was supposed to be a couple of days away from Aaron was turning into a week. Lauren was getting bitchy about the extended babysitting stint too. Part of Emily wanted to hop on the next plane back home. But something tied her to that girl.