The Chariot (Part II)

Gabriel tried to keep track of the turns they made, trying to guess the escape route, but it was useless. Driving was a distant luxury for him. They had long passed the roads he walked, the shelters he recognized, where people were being turned out for the morning, and the main drags of his bus commute. Each pause at a stop light seemed too long, as he tried and failed to get his bearings, and check if they were being followed.

Gabriel locked his eyes on the truck’s patina-patched side mirror, expecting sleek sedans and flashing lights to burst around a corner at any second, but they didn’t. The silence was unnerving; his short-lived relief unraveled. He began to question if he made the right decision, getting into a truck with a stranger.

They accelerated, and a few lights later, took an onramp to the freeway.

The city thinned as they drove. The highway unwound beneath them, carrying them away from downtown and toward the industrial district. The cold gray morning lit long stretches of cracked road showing industrial spillover; weathered billboards, warehouse signs, the black water of the seaport in the distance.

Gabe cracked the passenger window just enough to smoke without letting the February cold tear into the cab. The wind snatched at the ember, tugging it brighter, then dimmer again.

He hadn’t stopped shaking yet. Not completely.

Tatsu drove like he owned the lane, steadily, unhurried, with both hands on the wheel. He kept his eyes straight ahead on the lane before him. Wind slipped in through the cracked window, occasionally whipping his long black hair back from his face, and rustling his red box braids.

Gabe watched the road blur past and tried to decide where to start. Questions piled up, until he thought he might choke on them.

“Why me?” he asked finally. “I mean—why did you help me?”

Tatsuki didn’t look over. “I told you yesterday,” he said pointedly. “We gotta look out for each other. I see a raid posted, I see a kid in the crosshairs, I try to help.”

Gabriel let that thought settle, hope budding in his chest. Tenderly protecting it, he mulled over his next question. The truck hummed steadily beneath them, while Tatsu drove in silence.

“So, you came back for me?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “You were too stubborn to call or text last night. Figured you were too dumb to stay home too, and I was right.”

The rock song on the radio bled out, and was replaced by a familiar jingle. Gabe’s jaw snapped open to retort, but Tatsuki reached for the volume knob. “Hold that thought.”

“You’re listening to FM 99.9, keeping you informed on your commute—”

Gabe frowned, stubbing out his cigarette in a used water bottle with a sizzle. He rolled up the window, to listen.

“—The Charon Safety Commission reminds residents that routine compliance checks remain in effect citywide. According to CSC risk-assessment models, undocumented others continue to present a statistically significant public-safety concern…”

Gabe’s hand flew out, fumbling for the dial. Tatsuki scolded him loudly, the truck swaying with a squeal as he reached over to correct it. Gabe shrank back, dodging his touch and surrendering. The broadcast crackled back:

“—human-passing classifications may delay identification and increase the likelihood of secondary exposure. Incubi and succubi, while rare, must be reported…”

Tatsuki glanced sideways, just once, then he turned the volume back down. Gabe had folded in on himself, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight like he could disappear if he tried hard enough.

“That’s you, right?” Tatsu said, calmly.

Gabe stared at the dashboard. 

“That’s your hunch?” He asked, words muffled by his sleeves.

“That’s experience,” Tatsuki replied. His gaze rested on Gabriel’s hands, as he tucked them up into his jacket sleeves as tightly as he could. “I’ve been around others a long time. You tend to pick up on things.”

Gabe swallowed, retreating into the shell he had created. “I figured if I kept my head down—”

“You’d get lucky?” Tatsu exhaled sharply. “Yeah. That’s not how it works. Especially for… your kind.”

Silence settled back in; Gabriel felt it like a weight. Traffic thinned. The air smelled faintly metallic, like cold water and diesel.

After a moment, Tatsuki said, “We got a bit of a drive. You wanna talk about it?”

Gabe shook his head, almost immediately.

Tatsuki’s mouth tacked up at an angle. “Must be tough, being an incubus.”

Gabe shifted in his seat, burying his head between his knees. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, okay…” Tatsuki sighed. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“So what now?” Gabe asked, voice thin. “You dump me somewhere, forget you ever saw me, and call it a favor?”

Tatsu snorted. “Nobody rides for free.”

Gabriel almost laughed, realization smacking him like a brick. He knew there would be a catch; he hadn’t been rescued. He’d been repurposed. He was just angry he didn’t see it coming.

The other shoe had dropped, smashing his little bud of hope beneath it.

His fingers fretted at the inner seam of his sleeves.

“You gonna sell me, then?”

That earned him a real laugh—short, barking, and unexpected.

“Probably could,” Tatsuki replied. “Succubi are a dime a dozen, but I could get a huge offer for a male incubus. Wouldn’t have to work for a year.”

He gave Gabriel a sidelong glance, to see if he flinched. He didn’t; just tried to will himself even smaller, curling in upon himself.

“Nah. We’re going to headquarters.”

The word landed heavier than it should have. Gabriel’s head peeked up from his cocoon.

“Your… office?” Gabe said.

“Something like that,” he replied. “Some place you can lie low. Work for me a bit, till we’re even—then we’ll get you on your feet, a fresh start.”

“I never asked for this,” Gabriel sat up, glaring at him. “I never agreed to work for you.”

Tatsu glanced at him then, quick, and sharp. “I can still stop at a brothel. They’d be salivating.”

Gabe stiffened.

“Just do a few jobs for me. You might like it.”

Gabe turned his face toward the window, jaw tightening. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“It should,” Tatsu said. “You slipped through clean. You’re getting a job that isn’t whoring or dish washing. You’ll help me help other dumbasses like you. We survive. Everyone keeps moving.”

“Fuck you,” Gabe said quietly.

Tatsu smiled at that, just a little.