Mario Acevedo - The Nymphos of Rocky Flats

A black van marked Federal Taskforce/Homeland Security, swerved around us and halted in front of a fleabag hotel on the opposite side of South Santa Fe Street. The doors of the van sprang open and out bounded five officers in black SWAT gear, masks, helmets, and shotguns at the ready. They queued in a tactical stack at the lobby door and, on the leader’s signal, scrambled in.

Another officer climbed out of the van’s cab and came our way. The torso narrowed from the healthy swell around the bosom to a trim waistline, then filled out again to a nice set of hips. Obviously a woman. Her leather overalls were cinched with a belt that held a small holster and pistol. She bent down toward my window and tapped the glass.

I depressed the switch and lowered the window.

She raised her mirrored sunglasses to the rim of her black helmet and showed me vampire eyes. “Hi, Felix. Wendy,” Carmen said. “We’re acting on a tip that the vânätori are here in the U.S. as illegal terrorists.”

“As opposed to legal terrorists?” I asked. “The van is a nice prop.”

“It’s no prop. The new local district coordinator for federal counterterrorism is family.” Carmen unsnapped the chinstrap and removed her helmet. Shiny black hair cascaded loose. She ran her tongue over her fangs. “We’ll be interrogating, then disposing of, the vânätori .”

The five officers emerged from the lobby, dragging Dragan, Petru, and Teodor, who were cuffed and blindfolded. Dragan shouted for help. One of the officers pulled the blindfold up and Maced him in the eyes. Dragan howled in pain. With his mouth agape, another officer jammed a rag down his throat. The officers shoved the vânätori into the van and climbed in. There was scuffling and the whack of batons on flesh. I smiled at the sounds. Give those human bastards a whack for me .

Carmen replaced her sunglasses. “Care to join us? Felix? Wendy? Get your last licks in?”

“I’ll pass, though give Dragan my regards. I’m sure that you’ll have fun without me.” I raised my hand, Wendy’s fingers still clasped to mine. “Besides, we’re in the middle of our own fun.”

Carmen smiled and creased the dimples in her cheeks. “Hmmm, I could join you later.”

Wendy said, “Three’s a crowd, Carmen.”

“Crowds can be fun.”

Wendy replied, “We’ll take a rain check.”

Pushing away from the door, Carmen laughed. “I’m not used to brush-offs. Take care, Felix. Wendy. Adiós .” She walked toward the van and wiggled her tight, leather-clad buns.

Carmen slammed shut the rear doors of the van and got in the cab. The van rolled away, roof lights flashing.

I started the Cadillac and cruised north.

Wendy squeezed my hand. “I’m going to miss you.”

“What do you mean? I’m planning to stay here in Denver…with you.”

Wendy sighed. “I’ve lived long enough to know that nothing’s ever permanent.”

“So what gives?”

“The Araneum’s sending me to Indianapolis.”

“Oh.” I let go of her hand.

Wendy kissed my neck. “Don’t act so glum. We’re not apart yet. I’ve got a month before I go, and that’s plenty of time for lots and lots of goodbye sex.”

A former infantry and aviation officer, Mario Acevedo lives and writes in Denver, Colorado. He has worked as a military helicopter pilot, engineer, and art teacher. www.marioacevedo.com

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