(A moment of peace, the calm in the eye of the storm.)
Just a few short hours ago, there‘d been a clatter of metal against glass, the whine of motors rotating through a thick sludge, the wet thunk of an awkward body, a snip and rustle of evisceration, the rasp of metal on metal, and a clang of slamming doors.
“I think we’ve done all we can for now.” Karen wipes her brow and surveys the damage. “When are the troops supposed to arrive?”
Lula, at forty, was too old to be a whore, and too smart to be a madam. Scratching a living from the arid Oklahoma soil did not appeal to her.
She never did cotton to book learning. At least, not the kind of learning offered at the town’s one-room school house. It squatted at the edge of town like a carbuncle, Continue reading “Lula at Forty”
Hands on hips, furious, pleading, she is at the end of her rope. “I know you have it. It was here just a second ago, right on that coffee table.”
He looks up at her from their communal couch, brows raised, close mouthed, hands clasped and resting in his lap.
She strode down the corridor, Gravboots beating a driving rhythm, her Sikshooter clanging warning bells off her generously curved hip. Ready for transport down to the moon, Arizon’, she suspected the Space Cowboy Coalition was playing them for fools. No profit, but maybe an adventure. She’d arranged her own transport.