the arms. Richard sat up and shook his head to clear it. The giant was barely able to restrain Doyle, and a couple of other men standing nearby finally stepped in, each holding one of Doyle’s arms.
“Is this your idea of not causing trouble?” Tucker yelled down at Richard.
“He was protecting me,” said Carrie. She pointed at Doyle, “This moron attacked me.”
“Fuckin’ bitch!” screamed Doyle.
“Take him away,” said Tucker, pointing at Doyle. “Let him cool off somewhere for a while.”
Richard got to his feet.
“You’re asking for it, man,” Tucker said, turning to face him.
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Carrie. “We were minding our own business.”
“Well, trouble seems to have a way of finding him,” said Tucker, still glaring at Richard. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, this one time, for Carrie’s sake. You’d better not test my good nature again.”
Tucker strode angrily away. Richard shakily brushed himself off.
Carrie turned to him, “I’m impressed,” she said, openly smiling for the first time. “You took a big chance helping me. If Tucker had been in one of his moods they probably would have executed you.”
“I couldn’t just stand there. Thanks for sticking up for me – again. Looks like Doyle’s really got it in for me.”
“It’s not just you. I had something like a relationship with him for a while. I’ve been done with him for ages now, but he refuses to accept it.”
They got some food and walked back to her space to eat. In the distance, to their left, someone played a tranquil melody on a flute. The breath-filled notes echoed off the walls and drifted all around them.
“Have you been living here a long time?” Richard said, sitting beside her on the bed as they ate.
“I used to live in Vancouver – with my husband. It wasn’t that long ago – or was it? I guess it was, actually. After he died, I couldn’t scrape together enough money to support myself. I didn’t want to end up as one of the endless swarm of hookers fighting to stay alive in East Van, so I took off and came out here.”
“Your husband died – does it bother you to talk about it?”
“No, not really – it was a long time ago now. I got married early – I was only eighteen.”
“How did he die?”
She smiled thinly. "He was killed by a dead horse."
"What!"
A shadow seemed to fall across her face. “Allan, that’s my husband, joined the US army to fight in the resource wars against the Chinese – I guess it was almost five years ago. He couldn’t find a job, and we needed the money. He made a pact with one of his army buddies. They vowed that if either of them was killed and the other survived, the survivor would come and explain to the dead man’s family what had happened, and do whatever they could to help them.”
The flute player’s melody turned to a minor key and softened to a whisper. Carrie paused, as if collecting her thoughts, then continued.
“Ray, Allan’s buddy, lived on the East coast of the US. How he made it here I have no idea. It must have cost him a fortune. He would never tell me the details, but I know he flew here – you can imagine.
“Anyway, he kept his promise. He came to see me and told me what happened. Allan was a member of a unit that was sent to investigate a dead Chinese horse lying at the side of the road on one of the supply routes. It was reported to be carrying some equipment they thought our guys could use," she stared down at her dinner plate.
"They're using horses?" said Richard.
"The Chinese are, apparently. Maybe they both are. I haven't heard anything lately, but I know the fuel shortages were really bad a few years ago. They're probably worse now. Even back then the Chinese were in a bad way, resource wise. From what Ray told me, their technology was fifty years old. They didn't care. They thought they could win with sheer numbers. They may be right.
“Allan’s unit went to investigate this
“Is this your idea of not causing trouble?” Tucker yelled down at Richard.
“He was protecting me,” said Carrie. She pointed at Doyle, “This moron attacked me.”
“Fuckin’ bitch!” screamed Doyle.
“Take him away,” said Tucker, pointing at Doyle. “Let him cool off somewhere for a while.”
Richard got to his feet.
“You’re asking for it, man,” Tucker said, turning to face him.
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Carrie. “We were minding our own business.”
“Well, trouble seems to have a way of finding him,” said Tucker, still glaring at Richard. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, this one time, for Carrie’s sake. You’d better not test my good nature again.”
Tucker strode angrily away. Richard shakily brushed himself off.
Carrie turned to him, “I’m impressed,” she said, openly smiling for the first time. “You took a big chance helping me. If Tucker had been in one of his moods they probably would have executed you.”
“I couldn’t just stand there. Thanks for sticking up for me – again. Looks like Doyle’s really got it in for me.”
“It’s not just you. I had something like a relationship with him for a while. I’ve been done with him for ages now, but he refuses to accept it.”
They got some food and walked back to her space to eat. In the distance, to their left, someone played a tranquil melody on a flute. The breath-filled notes echoed off the walls and drifted all around them.
“Have you been living here a long time?” Richard said, sitting beside her on the bed as they ate.
“I used to live in Vancouver – with my husband. It wasn’t that long ago – or was it? I guess it was, actually. After he died, I couldn’t scrape together enough money to support myself. I didn’t want to end up as one of the endless swarm of hookers fighting to stay alive in East Van, so I took off and came out here.”
“Your husband died – does it bother you to talk about it?”
“No, not really – it was a long time ago now. I got married early – I was only eighteen.”
“How did he die?”
She smiled thinly. "He was killed by a dead horse."
"What!"
A shadow seemed to fall across her face. “Allan, that’s my husband, joined the US army to fight in the resource wars against the Chinese – I guess it was almost five years ago. He couldn’t find a job, and we needed the money. He made a pact with one of his army buddies. They vowed that if either of them was killed and the other survived, the survivor would come and explain to the dead man’s family what had happened, and do whatever they could to help them.”
The flute player’s melody turned to a minor key and softened to a whisper. Carrie paused, as if collecting her thoughts, then continued.
“Ray, Allan’s buddy, lived on the East coast of the US. How he made it here I have no idea. It must have cost him a fortune. He would never tell me the details, but I know he flew here – you can imagine.
“Anyway, he kept his promise. He came to see me and told me what happened. Allan was a member of a unit that was sent to investigate a dead Chinese horse lying at the side of the road on one of the supply routes. It was reported to be carrying some equipment they thought our guys could use," she stared down at her dinner plate.
"They're using horses?" said Richard.
"The Chinese are, apparently. Maybe they both are. I haven't heard anything lately, but I know the fuel shortages were really bad a few years ago. They're probably worse now. Even back then the Chinese were in a bad way, resource wise. From what Ray told me, their technology was fifty years old. They didn't care. They thought they could win with sheer numbers. They may be right.
“Allan’s unit went to investigate this
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