Somebody in Boots

[dirtywhiteboy]

Years ago, Ruben had wondered how long it would take for the sun to burn him into ashes. It had been a random notion, one he hadn't seriously entertained, but he thought of that time every now and then. For a man who couldn't see himself in a mirror, he was strangely reflective.

It was three a.m. The bars had announced last call an hour ago. Even in Las Vegas, some laws still held. If you wanted to drink after two in the morning, you had to go home or somewhere else.

He was stepping over the legs of the dead man in the alley, heading towards the sidewalk. He'd learned to eat quietly. Someone would probably find the body eventually, most likely an unlucky garbageman. Nevada was warming up, careening towards summer.

There was a pale moon trying to shine down through the light pollution, and Ruben turned his face up towards it. The moon was cold, remote, but it was also kind. It wouldn't burn him.

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[dirtywhiteboy]

"Blood is life, Dorothy. It tethers what's within, keeps it from flyin' away. The soul's the shiny prize, but without the red stuff that flows from the heart, that sparkle fades in a hurry."

Ruben was studying the girl now, having already lost interest in the corpse. He thought he heard his stomach contents slosh when he stepped towards her, but that might have been an illusion. He crouched down close to her, his features shifting back to normal. His eyes were bright, like an overly curious bird.

"What are you?"

[dori_bell]

“I thought you knew.”

He had given her something to think about – blood being life, an interesting perspective since she usually took it without spilling the stuff. If blood was life, so were cells, energy, breath.

The girl ran her fingers through her hair until she reached the damp, sticky ends. Dori sucked on the fine strands until they looked clean. It tasted like a penny.

“Death.”