Vicarious: A Science Fiction Novel by Rhett C. Bruno

Author:Rhett C. Bruno [Bruno, Rhett C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2021-04-12T16:00:00+00:00

14

Waking up dazed and unsure of where I was or how I’d gotten there was becoming a habit. Only this time, I felt like I’d been hit by a hover-car. Something tickled my cheek, and when I went to roll over, a sharp pain radiated down my side.

“You really should try to stay still,” a man said.

Something frilly dangled in my face. I fought through incredible soreness to brush it aside so I could see the man who’d addressed me. He sat across the interior of a small shack, hunched over at a warped desk, hands twisting over each other like he was packing something. The walls and ceiling were made of cheap, corrugated metal that pattered with the rain outside.

“Where am I?” I groaned.

The man stood, and a segmented stick extended from his right hand. When he turned, I noticed the rag wrapping his bald head, covering his eyes and stained with dry blood. It fell loose above the bridge of his crooked nose, allowing the entirety of the Unplugged brand on his forehead to show. I knew that face.

“You?” I attempted to sit. The pain had me reeling instead.

“You remember me?” he replied. “Interesting.”

“What’s going on?”

“I saw what happened. Well, heard… Minah’s man put quite a beating on you, didn’t he?” He slowly approached me, waving his stick out in front presumably to make sure he didn’t bump into anything. In his other hand, he held a tiny bowl.

“And you carried me all the way here?” I asked.

“Dragged. If I’m being honest.”

“First, you try to kill me—now, you’re my savior?” He was getting closer, so I gave moving another try. My sore ribs finally complied, but sitting up made it feel like someone had ignited a fire inside my head.

“Poetic, isn’t it?” He presented the bowl. Inside was a clump of finely ground green herbs and no reprehensible meat mixed in. “Eat this.”

I remained still.

“I had no real reason to choose you last time, and I have no reason to kill you now,” he said. “Take it. It’ll help with the pain.”

He stretched his arm farther, though incidentally, in the direction of my legs rather than my head. When I still didn’t take it, he sighed and dropped it on my lap. Then, using a stick, he shuffled over to a spout like the one in the show bar. A tin cup underneath it was already filled with water, and not nearly as murky as everywhere else in the Outskirts. It took a few tries for him to pick it up before returning to me.

“I’m not going to force it down for you, but I’m tired of hearing you moan.” He placed the cup at the foot of the fraying couch I was on. The blind man seemed relatively comfortable walking with his stick, but squatting took a great deal of concentration. “Stuff tastes like piss, but I promise, it works. Better than any pharma you’ve had.”

“Why should I believe anything a lunatic like you has to say?” I growled.

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