Busted Flush

Niobe took Drake’s arm and pulled him through the crowd, calling, “Michelle!” Michelle didn’t hear them.

Somebody jostled her. Drake’s arm slipped out of her fingers. Niobe turned to face a tall woman in a skintight leather bodysuit. It wouldn’t have been out of place among the other costumes, except that it covered a body much shapelier than was the norm here. Niobe wondered if the woman was a prostitute.

“Hey!” Niobe said. “Please watch where you’re going.”

The hooker tipped her head at Niobe. She flicked a waist-long black braid over her shoulder. “My apologies,” she said, and melded back into the crowd.

They made their way to the picnic tables. In addition to a cape, the overweight woman also wore plastic armor and a toy sword. She wasn’t Michelle.

“Crap,” said Drake. “Face it. She’s not coming.”

They made another round of the festival, then another. At times they glimpsed other obese women—many of the festival goers weren’t exactly small—in line for rides, or the tour of the Robert E. Howard house, but no Michelle. Drake and Niobe also cruised the midway, where the highest concentration of people lingered.

The sun was low on the horizon when Drake went to go use one of the Porta-Potties. Niobe waited for him. Here, near the toilets and Dumpsters, Barbarian Days smelled overwhelmingly of outhouses and rancid grease.

The crowd was getting louder. Rowdier. Some of these people had been swilling beer all afternoon. Meaning they probably suffered from impaired judgment.

Which gave Niobe a sad, desperate idea.

Drake returned, wiping his hands on his pants. She asked him, “Can you wait here? I want to try something.”

Drake wrinkled his nose, as he had done in Mandy’s car. “It stinks here.”

“Fine. How about you wait for me over by the Tilt-A-Whirl?” She pointed at the ride, farther down the midway. “I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“To get help. I hope.”

Finding a willing partner was easier than Niobe had expected. There was no shortage of men half blitzed out of their minds who’d spent the day staring at bikini-clad women. Additionally, it was getting dark out, so by keeping to the shadows she could ensure they didn’t see her face easily. It didn’t reflect very well on the patrons of Barbarian Days, but Niobe stood in no position to judge.

She met a man calling himself Solomon. He led her behind the Dumpsters, to stand against the tall retaining fence that separated garbage from the rest of the festival.

It wasn’t love, but it was a private degradation.

“Is there anything I can do to help you along?”

“Shh,” he slurred. “Tryin’ to concentrate.”

“This never happen’ before. I swear.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really.”

“Jesus Chris’,” he said. “Thass a tail.”

“Technically, it’s an ovipositor.”

“Ugh. That ain’t helping.”

“Just forget it,” she said. “This isn’t working.”

“Wait. Wait, this is better.”

In the end, Solomon gave her two boys and a girl: Benedict, Baxter, and Belit. Niobe named her new daughter after one of Conan’s many girlfriends, in homage to Barbarian Days.

Benedict, scarecrow-thin with cobalt blue skin and white hair, was a one-man waste-disposal unit. He devoured half a dozen empty bottles while waiting for his siblings to hatch. An ability influenced by his birthplace.

Lithe but muscular Belit had the agility of an Olympic acrobat. Gold-medal material, without a doubt.

The lights on the midway went crazy when Niobe took the youngsters to meet Drake.

“Hope you like it, Mom!” said Baxter.

When they didn’t find Drake in front of the Tilt-A-Whirl, Niobe panicked. They caught him, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left him alone.

Belit somersaulted straight up one of the tall light poles. She scanned the crowd. He’s over there, Mom. She pointed. Buying cotton candy.

Niobe sighed. “That figures,” she muttered.

“Niobe!” A familiar voice came out of the crowd.

She spun around, looking for the owner of the voice. A woman darted through the throng toward Niobe. She waved.

“Michelle!” Relief coursed through Niobe so strongly that it threatened to wash away the last of her strength and leave her collapsed on the midway. “You found us.”

Michelle winked. “Eventually. Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.” She indicated her companion, whom Niobe had disregarded until Michelle introduced her: a stunning woman with long black hair and eyes like silver orbs.

“This is Lilith,” said Michelle. “She gave me a ride.”

“Thank you,” Niobe said.

Lilith looked her up and down, studying her. Niobe shied away from an intense quicksilver gaze. The woman radiated sexiness in waves. Niobe felt like an insignificant bug next to her. “A pleasure to finally meet you,” said Lilith. She even had a husky voice.

Michelle frowned. Niobe hugged her. “You found us,” she repeated. Tears of joy tickled her face. “Thank you for coming. We wouldn’t have lasted on our own much longer.”