By Simon Drax
September 8, 2009
(Be sure to check out The Simon Drax Blog for Simon's Weekly Rap with Mori Kim Marr)
* * *
Fritz writhed on his back, dying.
His chest jerked with short, hitching spasms, his mouth thick with rising blood. His vision fogged, blanked entirely, then returned; through a dimming haze Fritz saw the newcomers cluster above him.
The robot: “You practically disemboweled him, Mori.”
The young guy with the sideburns: “Good!”
Some weird lady with white hair, eyes icy in judgment as she looked down at Fritz: “And we thought you needed help, Mori.”
“Mori!” Fritz coughed.
He reached weakly, gagging on the blood swirling in his mouth. “Mori…”
“Save it.” Mori leaned into Fritz’s darkening field of vision. She angrily shoved her arms into the sleeves of her jacket; she brushed back her hair with a quick, almost savage motion.
“Mori… help me. These people…”
Mori glared at him, her brown eyes large and unblinking, scared yet defiant. Her hand went to the cut on her neck. “Forget it, Fritz. I’m with them, now.”
Then Mori frowned. Her mouth dropped open in a half circle—compassion? She spoke urgently to the robot…
Fritz issued a gargled word, he reached for Mori, but his grasp fell short, his chest seized with a final spasm, and he went spinning out of there. The image of Mori’s face was the last thing Fritz took with him, down, down… into the dark.
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