as deep inside her as he could. Her muscles pulsed against him, and she made another noise for the list of those to achieve again, and then he eased her down to the towel. Leaving her legs to relax on his shoulders, he lapped at her with gentle strokes, coating his mouth and chin in her cum, which tasted salty and sweet, with a slight tang that reminded him of the tamarind candy the shops sold here. He was pretty sure he could live on what she was giving him, especially if it came with her thighs pressed to his ears. But eventually, her fingers found the top of his head and tugged at his hair. He kissed her thighs and crawled up to lie on his back, his good side toward her.
She let her head loll sideways and gave him a goofy smile. “I need to get in trouble more often.”
“You’re a specialist, I bet.”
Her smile widened, and she reached for his face.
He caught her hand and kissed her wrist, before trapping it against his chest. But after a few seconds, she pulled her hand away, and before he could stop her, climbed over him to lie on his other side.
He stared at the sky, the scarred side of his face frozen like normal, only worse because he could feel her looking at him. His fingers dug into the grass at his sides. He itched to get up and run.
“I have a few questions,” she said.
He braced himself.
Chapter 8
He lay so rigid it hurt her heart. She pulled his hand from its grip on the grass and kissed it, then rolled onto her back, knees tented, and held his hand on her belly. His shoulder pressed, warm and solid, against hers. Only a few stars shone in the city sky. The grass under her tickled. She burrowed into it. She needed to say something soon. He was waiting and not happily.
“What’s your middle name?” she asked.
“It was a chemical bomb,” he said.
Her hand tightened on his.
“I’ll just tell you, okay?”
“Okay.”
He was quiet for a moment, then he squeezed her hand back. “It was stupid. So fucking stupid. I mean, the kind of thing they tell you to watch out for all the time. But you can’t watch every minute, and the minute you stop watching…” His ribs pushed against her arm on a deep breath. “That’s the minute they count on.” He shifted, pulling her hand to him. “It was a jar. A clay jar, which should’ve tipped me off because you can’t see through it, you know? Can’t see what’s going on inside. But it looked like every other clay jar I’d seen over there, and there was this dog fighting with a kid down the street. They were tugging on something between them, and I was trying to decide whether I needed to go help the kid get it back, whatever it was, and then wham .”
He lifted her hand, studying her fingers.
“All I remember was the pressure. It blew out my eardrum before I could even hear it and knocked me out cold. When I came to, my buddies were dragging me away, shouting for help. I could only hear out of my right ear, and my vision was all fucked up. It was like I was floating, except I felt like I was on fire.” He curled her fingers over his. “I sort of was.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what was in the jar—pretty much the worst cocktail you can imagine. They told me later some of the chemicals they’d isolated during tests, but I didn’t recognize the names. Hydro-this and chloro-that; I wasn’t very good in chemistry. But whatever they were, they obliterated my uniform and then started eating into my skin. I couldn’t stop screaming. My buddies got some of it on their hands before one of them figured it out. Burned right through their gloves. So then they were trying to pull the shreds of my kit off with sticks and shit. Eventually, someone got me to a medic or the medic found me, and he knocked me out again. The next time I woke up for real, I was in Germany.”
“When?” she asked.
“Three years ago.”
“How long were you in the hospital?”
“Almost a year. Got my sight back, and my hearing. They
She let her head loll sideways and gave him a goofy smile. “I need to get in trouble more often.”
“You’re a specialist, I bet.”
Her smile widened, and she reached for his face.
He caught her hand and kissed her wrist, before trapping it against his chest. But after a few seconds, she pulled her hand away, and before he could stop her, climbed over him to lie on his other side.
He stared at the sky, the scarred side of his face frozen like normal, only worse because he could feel her looking at him. His fingers dug into the grass at his sides. He itched to get up and run.
“I have a few questions,” she said.
He braced himself.
Chapter 8
He lay so rigid it hurt her heart. She pulled his hand from its grip on the grass and kissed it, then rolled onto her back, knees tented, and held his hand on her belly. His shoulder pressed, warm and solid, against hers. Only a few stars shone in the city sky. The grass under her tickled. She burrowed into it. She needed to say something soon. He was waiting and not happily.
“What’s your middle name?” she asked.
“It was a chemical bomb,” he said.
Her hand tightened on his.
“I’ll just tell you, okay?”
“Okay.”
He was quiet for a moment, then he squeezed her hand back. “It was stupid. So fucking stupid. I mean, the kind of thing they tell you to watch out for all the time. But you can’t watch every minute, and the minute you stop watching…” His ribs pushed against her arm on a deep breath. “That’s the minute they count on.” He shifted, pulling her hand to him. “It was a jar. A clay jar, which should’ve tipped me off because you can’t see through it, you know? Can’t see what’s going on inside. But it looked like every other clay jar I’d seen over there, and there was this dog fighting with a kid down the street. They were tugging on something between them, and I was trying to decide whether I needed to go help the kid get it back, whatever it was, and then wham .”
He lifted her hand, studying her fingers.
“All I remember was the pressure. It blew out my eardrum before I could even hear it and knocked me out cold. When I came to, my buddies were dragging me away, shouting for help. I could only hear out of my right ear, and my vision was all fucked up. It was like I was floating, except I felt like I was on fire.” He curled her fingers over his. “I sort of was.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what was in the jar—pretty much the worst cocktail you can imagine. They told me later some of the chemicals they’d isolated during tests, but I didn’t recognize the names. Hydro-this and chloro-that; I wasn’t very good in chemistry. But whatever they were, they obliterated my uniform and then started eating into my skin. I couldn’t stop screaming. My buddies got some of it on their hands before one of them figured it out. Burned right through their gloves. So then they were trying to pull the shreds of my kit off with sticks and shit. Eventually, someone got me to a medic or the medic found me, and he knocked me out again. The next time I woke up for real, I was in Germany.”
“When?” she asked.
“Three years ago.”
“How long were you in the hospital?”
“Almost a year. Got my sight back, and my hearing. They
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