Ballistic Kiss (Sandman Slim 11)

He opens one and says, “You’re going to stay and watch, aren’t you, you ghoul? I take back every nice thing I said. I don’t deserve this.”

“No,” I say. “You probably don’t.”

He twists around on the bed, like he’s rolling around with stomach cramps.

“Shit,” he yells. “What is this stuff? Oh god. It hurts.”

“Hang on. It’ll be over soon.”

I grab Kasabian’s head as the metal armature of his body falls away. I kick it onto the floor and set him back down. He’s moaning now. I can’t tell if he’s awake or having some kind of seizure. It goes on for a few minutes.

Eventually, he opens his eyes. He gets one look at me and puts his hands to his face.

“You prick. You followed me to Hell. Leave me alone. Why don’t you go kick Mason in the ass for a while? I hurt all over.”

“You’re not in Hell, Kas. You’re still in your filthy fucking room. And if you want to kick my ass, why don’t you get up and do it?”

He pulls his hands from his face and looks at them. Then his pudgy body. He wiggles his weirdly long toes.

I point to his foot.

“What’s going on down there?”

“My toes? They’re a family trait, you jerk. They’re from my mother. And why are you staring at my feet?”

“Because you have them.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

He looks at me, still a little suspicious.

“That’s what the seed was for? To give me my body back?”

“It was a wish charm. It gives you whatever you want. Good thing you weren’t hungry. You could have ended up a three-hundred-pound fritter.”

He makes a face at me.

“I don’t like fritters, you mook. Those are your things. I like people food. Now get out and let me get dressed.”

I wipe some of the whiskey off my coat and limp for the door.

“What’s with your leg?” he says.

“An angel kicked my ass tonight.”

“Good.”

Just before the door closes, I hear the absolute smallest “Thanks, man” ever uttered on Earth.

“Anytime, Kas.”

I head back to the flying saucer house.

At least no one has cleaned it when I get there. I knock some rubble off the bed, get under the covers fully dressed, and pop a PTSD pill and a lorazepam.

I dream about somewhere far away and a different life I could have had. Should I have taken the asphodel seed and changed time to stay with Alice? A part of me wants to think that it could have worked out. Us dumb and happy together until we got old. But my whole body hurts, and my side is bleeding, and Kasabian bit my finger. When I rub it, I feel my scars.

Changing time, going back to Alice, and starting over is a pipe dream. I am what I am. A Nephilim. An Abomination. A natural born killer. Playing house a little longer wouldn’t change that. I was always going to end up here. The last of my kind in the universe. At least now there are people who care about me. If I’d stayed like I was twelve years ago, I’d still be a smart-ass and a drunk and useless. Alice would have died anyway, and that version of me would have ended up alone. And he’d have deserved it.