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]

Ruben's sharp chin was digging into the girl's shoulder, his height making it necessary for him to lean down so that he could watch. He looked like some strange bird of prey because of the way he was perched over her. He saw...something...like a vapor-trail. Having been a part of the dark for nearly six decades, he'd learned that there were more things than vampires that went bump in the night.

When the girl's heart just stopped, like a candle being snuffed out, he was mildly disappointed. He'd expected more of a struggle than that. Still, that was a mighty fine talent Dorothy had. He released the redhead's arms, and she slumped to the left. The music was still playing, and he turned it off because it was annoying him.

"That was beautiful, Dorothy," he said solemnly. "Quiet and deadly, like the sun comin' up."

[dori_bell]

Death didn’t have to be sadistic; sometimes it was downright anticlimactic.
Dori stood up and put a moist hand through her hair. She was winded and wobbly. Her pulse beat just a tad too fast, as if she’d taken a puff from someone’s emergency inhaler and her lungs were full of steroids. The younger and healthier the person, the more jittery she felt.

She gave Ruben an uncertain smile.

“Forty-two years. Three! Forty-three, I mean. I’m right now.”