Wasteland King Read Free

dog dipped his long snout in and began to drink as well.
    Oh, man
. “You can’t just
do
that, man! You gotta pay for it!”
    She reached into the case again, little curls of steam rising off her bare wrist as the cooler wheezed. Those two quarts were all the whole milk they had, so she grabbed the lone container of half-and-half—ordered weekly because the bossman said offering free coffee would make someone buy it—and bent back the cardboard wings to open it. The spout was formed with a neat little twist of her wrist, and she lifted it to her lips, all while the dog made a wet bubbling noise that was probably enjoyment.
    Oh, hell no
. “You can’t
do
that!” He outright yelled. “Imma call the cops, lady! You’re gonna get
arrested!
”
    The instant he said it, he felt ridiculous.
    She drank all the half-and-half and dropped that carton too, wiping at her mouth with the back of her left hand. Then she stared at Matt, like he was some sort of bug crawling around in her Cheerios.
    Just like Cindy Parmentier, as a matter of fact, who let Matt feel her up behind the bleachers once but kept asking him to introduce her to Bobby. Then she spread that goddamn rumor about him being a fag, and even Bobby looked at him like he thought it might be true.
    The woman’s mouth opened slightly. She still said nothing. The dog kept sucking at the opened quart on the floor, but one wary eye was half open now.
    â€œAnd you can’t have dogs in here! Service animals only!” He sounded ridiculous even to himself.
    She tipped her head back, and for a moment Matt thought she was going to scream. Instead, she laughed, deep rich chuckles spilling out and away, bright as the gold hoops in her ears. Matt flat-out stared, spellbound.
    When she finished laughing, the dog was licking the floor clean, its nose bumping the empty cartons with snorfling sounds. She wiped away crystal teardrops on her beautiful cheeks, and walked right past Matt. She smelled like spice and fruit, something exotic, a warm draft that made him think of that day behind the bleachers, soft sloping breasts under his fumbling fingers and Cindy Parmentier’s quick, light breathing scented with Juicy Fruit gum.
    The dog passed, its tail whacking him a good one across the shins, way harder and bonier than a dog’s tail had any right to be. Matt staggered. The door opened, early-summer heat breathing into the store’s cave, and Matt ran after her. “
You didn’t pay!
” he yelled, but he slipped on something a little weird underfoot, like the floor itself was moving to throw him off.
    He went down hard, almost cracking his skull on the racks of nudie mags they couldn’t sell inside the Barton city limits.
That
was the real reason this place held on, and once he started working here the kids at school started laughing even more.
    â€œOw!” Matt rolled, thrashing to get back up. Something jabbed at his cheek, and something else poked his finger. Tiny, vicious little stings all over him.
    The bell over the door tinkled again. “Stop that,” the voice said, low and sweet as warm caramel, with a hidden fierceness. Just those two words made the sweat spring out all over him.
    It was a good thing his eyes were closed, or he would have seen the tiny flying things, their faces set in scowling mutiny, their wings fluttering and a deep throbbing blue spreading through the glow surrounding each one of them, spheres of brilliance bleached by both day and fluorescent light but still bolder, richer than the colors of the tired mortal world. Some had gleaming, tiny sewing-needle blades, and their mouths opened to show sharp pearly teeth.
    A low, thunderous growl. It was the dog, and Matt rolled around some more, suddenly terrified of opening his eyes. His bladder let go in a warm gush, and the stinging continued.
    â€œI said,
Stop it
.” Everything inside the store rattled. The floor heaved a little