Gods Under The Dome

8.1

《A Warm Welcome》

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"If I hear him complain about shit one more time, I'm lodging my boot up his ass!"

"Now, now," I say. Keran huffs ahead of me, her gaze honed on Tujo who wades through brown sludge with the biggest frown on his face. "That looks like a pretty nice pair of boots, I'd hate to see you lose one of them out of anger."

Keran whips her head around so fast the air cracks with electricity. She hisses, mouth snarling.

"She wouldn't lose it permanently," Nol says from my left. "It'd eventually make its way through Tujo's system. Though can you imagine the damage?" He wrinkles his nose and as he does, his fingers graze the flesh of my forearm sending a tingle of warmth through my body.

Keran snaps at him. "You useless-"

"Ugh," I say, cutting her off, much the way I do with Marava. Keran reverts to her arsenal of snarls and scowls. Her indignance might have been cute had it not been for the gun present in her hand. "Half-digested leather and the smell? Keran," she growls at my use of her name. "It's not worth it. Don't send your boot to such a grisly end--"

"Shut," she stomps toward me, her steps flinging sewage my way. Splatters of brown stain my pant legs. Putrid, humid air shoves itself into my nose. "Up," Keran finishes, hefting her gun so the barrel touches the tip of my nose.

At this point, her rough and tumble act is getting a little stale. All these threats she can't act upon without disobeying Della's orders. She's leashed for the time being, which means, much as she wants, she can't pull that trigger no matter how her finger dances above it.

I slap the gun out of my face as though it were a toy. "I told you before," the jovial tone in my voice is replaced by one I hope shows cool determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect them. Even if it means protecting one of their ass holes from your boot."

Keran shoves the gun back in its holster, raises her arms, and screams. It echoes down the narrow tunnel. "For fuck sake's, Della," she yells. "Let me shoot her!"

Della's answer is little more than an echo, from further in the tunnel. The Commander had taken it upon herself to be a scout, in case the Militia roamed the tunnels. "We need one-zero," comes Della's reply. This time, she doesn't seem to begrudge her sentiment. Had the Titav Commander warmed up to me? Doubtful, even though I'd just saved us from being found out. She might just be tempering the edge in her voice because she owes me one.

Keran howls and whips around. When she does, that high ponytail of hers hits my forehead. Brown water sloshes around her ankles and up her calves, spraying the other Titavs as she plows past them.

"She's probably going on ahead to find Della, complain in person," Nol says.

I shrug. "Does that work? Complaining in person? I find well-worded written complaints always get you farther."

Nol gives me a sideways glance and the corner of his lip curls into a grin. "And you know this from experience?"

I nod. "Of course. Wrote hundreds of them." I clear my throat. "'Dear Councilmen of the FUA, mind not making us prisoners in our home? The food, if you can even call M.E.A.T.s food, is disgusting. It's somehow soft enough to disintegrate on the tongue, yet has enough staying power to cement your teeth together. They taste how I imagine a sweat-soaked bed would taste after it's been doused in gasoline and burnt to a crisp.'"

Rima chuckles. Mars shakes her head, despite the softness in her eyes. Maybe shaking her head's compulsory at this point, and doesn't reflect her repulsion of me? Or maybe the repulsion just isn't as strong when compared to walking in shit water. That's probably it.