Sticky Fingers 5 by J T Lawrence EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:J T Lawrence
- Language: English
- Genre: Horror Short Stories
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
GOOD RIDDANCE
SHENGDU-OCCUPIED AKERATU, 2054
Frankie cycled leisurely along the path through the midnight meadow. The
air was cool on her face, and the moonlight was milky through the eternal
smog that squatted over Silok, in western Akeratu. Soon the field of grey
flowers was behind her, and she saw the outskirts of town. Stuttering
silhouettes of the glass recycling factory, the Dairytech shop, the burned
carcass of the old prison, its black ribs reaching for the sky. Before she
approached the flickering streetlights, she saw Erica and slowed down.
You’d be forgiven for thinking they were twins; two young girls wearing
heavy coats, and breathing masks over their red lipstick, riding bikes with
baskets. They squeezed their brakes and stopped beside one another, cheeks
aflame against the chill of the night swirl. Erica steadied her bicycle,
putting her boots on the ground, then reached into her pocket. She gave
Frankie a cigarette, which the girl tucked behind her ear. With a last
backwards glance, Erica placed her feet back on the pedals, and they both
continued on their separate ways.
Frankie wheeled slowly into town; she was in no hurry. The Six Seasons
restaurant stayed open well past dinner time. She found herself humming
the resistance song—which she did when she was afraid—and immediately
scolded herself and stopped.
Golden light and drunken laughter spilled out of the cracks in the doubleglazed windows of the restaurant. The warm hub was incongruent against
the backdrop of destruction. How do people keep living in a place like this?
Working, eating, sleeping; wearing the masks that stop the acid from eating
your lungs. When things before had begun to look so promising, who would
have thought this would be the future? Of course, it’s not like this
everywhere. Across the Fiume River, the trees are still alive, and the sky is
blue. The water is sweet. That’s what they say, anyway; that’s the whisper
on the breeze. Frankie leaned her bike up against the side of the restaurant
that smelled of soldiers’ piss. It was darker there, and less likely to be
stolen.
Frankie took off her mask and drew the cigarette from behind her ear. She
read the name, written in pen, on the cigarette paper—Bergdorf—then
struck a match and ignited the end, enjoying the quiet crackling sound it
made as she dragged the fragrant smoke into her lungs. As Frankie exhaled,
she thought about her mother, and her neighbour, whose bravery never
failed to strengthen her resolve. Once the cigarette began to burn the tips of
her fingers, she dropped it and ground it into the concrete paver under her
boot. Frankie checked her lipstick in the small mirror she kept in her
pocket. It had been a gift—a silver clamshell of foundation powder. It had
run out long ago, but the mirror still came in handy.
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