Undertow by Joss Dey

Author:Joss Dey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joss Dey
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Part Two

Breaking the Surface

Chapter Thirteen

Fel stood in front of the Launch Pad clammy and shivering, though a heatwave had Halo City PD’s arrests for public nudity at an all-time high.

The dim light of a flickering street lamp made the clientele entering the Pad look dead before their time. Shadowed eyes, hollow with longing and gangly stop-motion limbs, these were the Pad’s elite.

A prostitute and his intoxicated John approached the abandoned ten-story office building. The former headquarters of Judas County’s power company, Halo Lighting and Power started losing revenue soon after the collapse. After the war, the power company couldn’t keep up with the hundreds of legitimate and bogus remedies for power flooding the market. When the CEO’s attempt to burn the building and collect the insurance failed, an unfulfilled demolition order and terminal neglect helped the Launch Pad to be born and raised it to the premier drug house in Halo City.

The hooker blinked at Fel in confusion then laughed. “I thought you was a cop,” he said, fingering the hem of his tight belly-shirt.

“Police?” the John slurred, the moon glinting off his balding head.

“No, baby. Just one of my work colleagues,” the pro laughed.

Maybe fifteen, the hooker didn’t blink a heavily-lined eye when his John roughly palmed his genitals through his very short cut-offs.

“You sinking, sweetheart?” the hooker asked Fel. His gaze sympathetic as he took in Fel, shivering and sweating at the same time and scratching at his scalp and skin like he had a jerk weed rash. “Oh, you are.” He covered his heart with a limp hand. “You poor motherfucker. Well, go on in before you collapse!”

Fel clenched his teeth against his tremors. “Can’t.” He thought of Dragon and staggered away from the burnt-out drug den.

“Sure you can, baby—oh, you ain’t got no money, do you?” the prostitute pointed at Fel then covered his mouth with his fluttering fingertips as if being unable to afford illegal drugs was a sin. “Jimmy—that’s my boo—will give you an advance for forty percent of your daily take.” His eyes widened as an idea came to him and he nodded happily. “I’ll just dash inside and find him for you, ‘kay?”

“Jesus! Help me, please,” the John cried out, startling the exquisitely-dressed couple stepping carefully over a pile of what looked like rags fitted with size twelve boots as they made their way into the Pad.

“I will, baby, I promise. Just lemme find Jimmy first.”

“Please, Jesus. Please,” the middle-aged accountant (or insurance salesman or federal employee) begged, falling to his knees in front of the hooker. “Don’t leave me.”

Jesus sighed as if servicing this John was akin to solving world famine, and unzipped his shorts and pulled out his surprisingly enormous cock. “I would never leave you, baby. Here you go.” He fed the bulbous head of his penis into his client’s mouth. “Have some of this. Ahh,” he moaned when the man engulfed his entire length. “That’s it, baby.”

Fel turned from the scene that was too much like a crystal ball and sprinted east to the Yorktown.

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