Cycles

[Jimbo san]

Dawn came, and the first rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon illuminated the rundown scum pit that is The Den. Home to several thousand people, it is a thriving community built on crime, slavery, drugs, prostitution and the black market.

Right in the centre of this town lies The Hole, an anarchic den where lowlives hang out and swap stories, and indulge some of their darker delights. The funny thing about it was that it never closed, the barman and his wife taking it in turns to run the bar, him taking nights, her taking the day shifts. This suited them perfectly as they hated one another, and they owed many years of happy marriage to this lifestyle.

Hannah sighed and took another long drag of her cigarette. She was 17, medium height, with long legs and strawberry blonde hair. She made sure to keep herself trim, as she needed to in her profession. She was a prostitute. As far as she was concerned, there was no stigma attached to the profession, it was usually easy work with reasonable pay and flexible hours. And she needed the money, as Metzger the slave master had taken her sister for non-payment of debts owed to Frankie, the owner of The Hole. When she had complained to Frankie, he had just told her the only way she could raise the money owed, a startling seven hundred dollars he had supposedly loaned to her, would be on her back. So far she had collected four hundred dollars in several months. It wasn’t as if the customers didn’t pay well, it’s just that she had been evicted from the last place she lived in, and Frankie had taken her in as nowhere else would, and his rates were not cheap.

She tossed the cigarette to the floor and ground it under the heel of her boot. She noticed a man eyeing her up in the corner, so she went over and introduced herself to him. His name was Half Johnson, jokingly named so by his parents because he was a twin. She asked if he was interested in what she had to offer. He was very keen indeed, and she led him off to a side room, avoiding the glare of Sheila, Frankie’s favourite prostitute. Sheila was in her early thirties but looked much older. Her hair was beginning to grey, and her skin had lost its lustre. She hated Hannah because she did much better business.

It wasn’t great. It wasn’t awful. She lay below Half Johnson, dutifully moaning and gasping in the right places, studying his face. She made a game of it, watching the men’s faces and silently mocking the gurning most of them made mid orgasm, all the while making encouraging noises for their edification. There he was, on top of her, pumping away at her and then he jolted, his face bunched up (but not too much, so he earned top marks from her), he made a short, low grunting sound and flopped down on top of her, exhausted and spent.

*

Yes, I am ashamed of it. I’d never been to a prostitute before, but I was lonely, you know? I’ve been on the wagon drives for near three months now and, well, you know, a man has needs, right? Well, anyway fairly soon afterwards I left The Hole, and met up with the rest of the team. Their faces were amused.

‘Hey, Halfie you sly old dog, we saw you disappear with the whore!’ Said Gabby, the youngest caravan driver with a knowing grin plastered on his face.

‘Aw hell man, it wasn’t anything really.’ I said.

‘Well, what would Charlene back in ol’ NCR make of it?’ Asked Preach, another caravan driver, but also an ex-preacher from New Reno.

‘Don’t tell her, please!’ I implored the others, but I saw from their faces that I was getting nowhere.

‘Don’t you think your wife’s got a right to know?’ Said Lurker, a hanger-on who travelled with the caravan to trap Geckos.

‘Aw man…’ I moaned.

‘Don’t worry pal, we’re only joking, every man has the right to a bit of illicit tail now and then, eh?’ Chuckled Gabby.

But the seed of guilt had been planted in my head. We set out for Redding, walking alongside the brahmin who were steadily pulling the caravans. It took us about a week or so, and when we finally arrived in town we decided to head into the nearest building for a drink, a bar and casino called Ascorti’s.

*

‘Wrong move fuckers!’ Screamed a female voice, and bullets rained upon the men entering the saloon. They were brahmin drivers, totally unaware of what was going on inside the building. It was over in a second, and they all fell under the automatic gunfire, killed instantly.

The scene inside Ascorti’s was one of total chaos. In the firefight which had erupted when Blade and his girlfriend Jen had drawn guns inside the casino, a strictly “no weapons� zone, and fired at the security, many people had been killed. They had been indiscriminate in their aim, and customers lay dead all around them, lying side by side with the corpses of all the guards. The gaming tables had been turned over in the mad stampede for the door which had ensued when the fighting had started, and gaming chips lay on the floor like little islands in a sea of blood. Ascorti was the only one left alive, whimpering and cowering in the corner.

‘Ascorti, open the goddamned, motherfucking vault, move it!’ Yelled Blade.

Ascorti got up and walked across the room in a daze. It was all unreal, it had to be. He couldn’t be here, in his casino, walking through puddles of his customer’s blood, about to give away his whole fortune. It just couldn’t be true. He unlocked the back room with shaky hands, and proceeded numbly to the vault. He twiddled the dial and after a few seconds or so, it clicked, there was a louder clunk, and he opened the vault door.

‘Thanks shithead!’ Said Blade, as he shot Ascorti repeatedly with his pump action shotgun.

Satisfied that he was dead, they took the money and split before the cops arrived.

*

His name was Carter. He had been hired by the Sheriff to track down and take out the psychotic couple who had attacked Ascorti’s casino a few weeks back, killing over twenty people. He sifted through the debris of the attack, looking for any kind of clue as to where they had gone. He walked with his head down, examining the floor, and this is when he found something of interest. It was a canister of Jet, the highly addictive inhaled metamphetamine responsible for the sudden increase of violent crime in the wastes. It was one hundred percent addictive, and on occasions lethal. He turned it in his fingers, and saw a distinctive M embossed upon the back of the canister. The Mordinos. They had created Jet, and were the only family in New Reno who knew how to produce it.

He joined a caravan headed for New Reno. He felt that it would be better this way, as if he had arrived in town alone people would be suspicious. If he arrives with the pack, he will be assimilated more readily. They arrived late one night, and he headed to the nearest casino with the others to have a drink. He knew he had to blend in, this place chews up people like him and then spits them out again in pieces, or not at all. He refrained from gawping goggle eyed at the nude dancers cavorting in the casino, although he was mildly distracted when a g-string fell into his beer glass. It was then that he noticed the posters on the walls, wanted posters fitting the description of the people he was hunting.

‘Hey buddy, who’re those people on that poster?’ He asked the nearest drinker.

‘Eh, you knew in town pal? That’s only been the talk of New Reno for the last few days. This couple walks into this casino, right? Old man Mordino’s casino, and tries to rob it. They obviously hadn’t counted on the old feller having so many guards, and they had to haul ass pretty fast out of here. Don’t know where they went from here, though if Mordino catches them they’ll be dancing the hemp fandango in Golgotha.’

Carter nodded glumly and returned to sipping his beer.

*

Mimi sighed in her dressing room. It wasn’t a bad life, being a naked dancer at one of Mordino’s clubs. He was a perfect gentleman, and his men always made sure to protect to protect the girls from the more ardent kind of admirer. She left the dressing room and smiled as soon as she saw Rock. He was a bouncer at the casino, heavily built and not too quick on the uptake. He had taken to walking Mimi home of recent times, and she wasn’t going to complain, because nobody would attack her with him walking alongside her. She knew he harboured feelings for her, feelings he found it hard to articulate, but that made her love him all the more. She loved the way he blushed when she smiled at him, and his gentle touch. She knew she ought to tell him how she felt about him, and she resolved to do it that very night.

They walked out of the rear exit of the casino, into a foetid smelling alleyway. They walked for a bit in silence, both brooding on their feelings for one another, considering what to say. They were proceeding like this when suddenly two people burst out of the shadows brandishing handguns.

‘Don’t move, fuckers!’ Screamed the woman.

‘Give us your cash and we might not kill you. Then again we might, but that’s just the way we are, eh sweetie?’ Said Blade.

‘Damn right sugar!’ Said the gun toting Jen coyly.

Rock’s fists moved in a blur, striking Blade on the chin, sending him flying backwards through the air. Jen screamed and pulled the trigger, but realised too late that the safety was on. Rock’s huge hand closed over hers and he yanked the gun out of her hands, tossing it over his shoulder.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said, and punched Jen in the face. She was unconscious before she hit the floor.

However, he had not seen Blade get up, and Blade drew another handgun and shot Rock twice in the stomach. The gentle giant fell backwards clutching his stomach, and Blade grabbed Jen, slung her over his shoulder and tried to make good his escape. But he had not counted on Mimi. She had picked up Jen’s handgun.

‘You fucking bastards! Die!’ She screamed, blinking hot tears out of her eyes.

She fired fourteen times, emptying the clip. She had never fired a gun before, so the bullets went everywhere. However, one struck Blade in the left shin, and he howled in pain as he fled with Jen on his shoulder. She turned to look at Rock, lying on the floor, gasping and clutching his stomach. Then she realised there was no blood.

‘Bullet… proof… vest.’ Gasped Rock.

‘Oh, Rocky, I thought I’d lost you!’ She exclaimed, and she kissed him.

*

Yep, I’m a bum. I’ve been on these mean Reno Streets for damn near six years now, since losing my job in the Redding mines. It’s times like this that make me feel all warm inside, seeing this couple kissing after even I thought the guy was a goner. Anyways, I watched them walk off, hand in hand, then I decided to go to sleep. I made a sort of roof over my head from mouldy cardboard boxes and snuggled down. Now I admit I had a bit more than a nip to ward off the cold before I went to bed, in fact it was more like half a bottle of some nameless fiery liquor. Then I went to sleep.

The next thing I remember, I’m in a cage on a cart with a whole buncha other people. Turns out some slavers had seen me in the street, and had just taken me. I instantly regretted the drink I had had before sleep, as without that, I might have had the opportunity to escape.

They drove us for several weeks in a south-eastern direction, until we reached the capital of the New California Republic. There we were put into separate cages, and the fence around the cages was electrified. They were taking no chances. I lay curled up in the centre, wondering grimly what fate was in store for me.

I woke about midnight, I guess, to the sound of explosions. I knew instantly who it was, it was the Rangers. They had always been against slavery, and it seemed they were looking to free us. The gunfight was pretty confusing, but the Rangers totally outnumbered the slavers, and it wasn’t long before all the slavers were dead. The leader of the Rangers, surprisingly a dainty looking young woman, told us that we were all free to go.

The next day, I went into the city itself, and asked the first cop I saw where I could find employment. He sent me to Roger Westin’s ranch, where I got a job involving herding brahmin to various towns. My first job was to travel to Modoc with another herder, so I could learn the ropes. We spent several weeks travelling there, in no particular hurry, after all, we were in the height of summer, and it gets very hot, and any exertion at all seems impossible after being in that heat for a while.

When we arrived, we split up. I wanted to take a look at the town, having never been there before. It’s a small world all right, because who do I see coming out of the church but the couple I saw kissin’ in that alleyway in Reno. So I head north through the town, and find a hotel. When I entered, I saw a big sign advertising some kind of eating competition. I nudge my way through the crowd, and saw a man eating what looked like balls of gristle.

*

Arnold knew it was too late to back out now. He felt sick to his stomach; the meat balls he was devouring were strangely salty and lay heavily upon his stomach. He fought the gag reflex, and shoved another one into his mouth with his fork. To his left, his last remaining opponent threw up noisily into a steel drum provided for the occasion. All he had to do now was break the record. Only two more to go. He shovelled one into his mouth, and chewed, balking at the gristle, and swallowed. He was now even with the record holder, and he jabbed one more with his fork, and held it in front of him with trembling hands. He saw some veiny thing under the surface of the meatball, but rammed it into his mouth, chewing only briefly before swallowing.

The crowd went wild. He had beaten the record set by Old Jiminy four years ago. The owner of the establishment, Rose, held his hand aloft and declared him victor, then took him into the back room.

‘Congratulations! You’re the new champion!’ She said, beaming.

‘Urgh, I feel horrible, what were they? What was I eating?’ He asked, trying to keep down the bile.

‘Oh honey, did nobody tell you? They’re fried brahmin testicles.’

‘Please excuse me.’ He said, and went into the toilets to be noisily sick.

When he finally came out, he was white faced but smiled at the cheering crowd.

*

The gunslinger finished applauding the guy, and left the hotel. He had been on the trail of Blade and Jen for several weeks, and had heard that they were headed for a quiet town called Klamath, a little way west. He walked into the desert a short distance from Modoc, and looked around for a long while. Satisfied nobody was watching him, he probed under the sand with his hands until he felt the tarpaulin. He pulled with all his might, and hauled the tarpaulin off the motorbike he had hidden. It was a classic Harley, converted to take fusion cells as a source of fuel. He pulled it upright, climbed on and roared off to Klamath.

He made it to Klamath in a matter of days, and hid his bike near the outskirts of the town. He entered the Golden Gecko bar, and ordered a beer. The barman complied and he settled down near a group of trappers to eavesdrop on the latest news in Klamath. It seemed that somebody had attacked the Bath House, wounding Big Nose Sally and kidnapping Jenny, her best girl. The consensus was that this was a bad thing, and most of the trappers admitted that they had paid for Jenny’s ministrations at some point. Then the oldest trapper, the one called Smiley said that he figured Jenny had been taken by slavers, probably from The Den.

He left the bar, and carried on up the main street until he reached the Bath House. The door was hanging by one broken hinge, and sitting at the desk inside was the biggest woman he had ever seen. She was not fat, just very heavily built. She looked up when she heard his footfalls, and he was taken aback at the size of her nose. Her right arm was bandaged, and dangled limply. He enquired as to what had happened, and she told him that a crazy couple had burst into the Bath House late one night, shot her in the arm, and kicked down Jenny’s door, before dragging her out of the building and disappearing into the night. He thanked her for her time, and left her fifty dollars, to help with repairing the place.

The next day he set out for The Den, only a day’s ride to the south-east.

*

Carl watched the motorbike roar past him and off into the desert. He was entranced. He had never seen anything like it in his life, but as swiftly as it had entered his life; it left it again, disappearing into the shimmering heat haze of the horizon. He shrugged and went to wake up Kate, his girlfriend. Things had been bad between them of late, because the money was tight, and they had taken to sleeping in separate beds. He pushed open the door to her room, and sighed bitterly. She was beautiful. Her dark hair flowed over her smooth alabaster skin, her delicate facial features, her penetrating green eyes, and the plain white cotton sheets clinging to her perfect figure. He touched her shoulder, and saw her eyes flicker open and focus on him. Wordlessly, she slid out of bed, and began to dress.

One of the few things they had agreed on recently was that this party would be the perfect opportunity to kick back and forget their troubles for a while. It was being organised by some of the major drug dealers in the region, as sort of a mass advertisement for their wares. They passed the day in silent anticipation, waiting for the night to come.

When the sun began to sink below the horizon, they set out. The party was not more than a mile or so to the north, and they reached it before it became too dark. There were several stalls set up around the designated area for dancing, and a vast pre-war sound rig was set up on a raised platform to the north, and they were already playing music, even though most people had yet to arrive. The ground thumped beneath their feet to the rhythm of the bass on the speakers, and the only way to communicate was to scream.

They headed towards the nearest stall and took a look at what was for offer. They were selling Jet canisters for five hundred dollars, mentats for one thousand, and needles of psycho for one thousand five hundred. They had been saving for a long time for this, and purchased a hit of Jet each, and a needle of psycho to share later on. They inhaled the jet deeply, and felt re-energised. All their problems just melted away in a chemical haze, and they moved to the dance floor.

*

Alvin was drunk. He burped merrily and raised his head with much effort from the bar.

‘’Nother drin’ pls’, barman!’ He attempted, but the barman got his drift anyway and slid a bottle along the bar, Alvin handed over a crisp note, and the barman handed him back much less than he ought to.

Alvin didn’t care; he was in his happy place.

*

‘What a disgusting drunk!’ Said Cutty to his old friend Ned.

‘Aye, Cutty me ol’ pal, ‘tis offensive t’ see such behaviour.’ Agreed his friend.

Cutty was on his way to greet Alvin and explain his displeasure at great length, mostly with the garrotte he was keeping in his pocket, when a man built like an ox blocked him.

‘Hey, he looks pretty sturdy, he’ll do.’ Rumbled the giant man to his equally huge comrade.

‘Let’s be having him then.’ Agreed his companion.

The first man swung his fist around and smashed it into Cutty’s face. Cutty fell to the floor unconscious, and the second man nodded with satisfaction and hauled the limp body onto his shoulder with ease.

*

Mack was having a great time. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken so many different drugs at once. The world around him was a kaleidoscopic blur of light and heat and sound, and it whirled around him as he danced among a sweaty, thrilling crowd of people. He could feel the good vibrations of a thousand or so people letting loose for, for some of them, the first time in their lives.

*

Cutty woke up, and instantly regretted it. He saw that he was hanging by his tied up hands from a thick pole sticking out of the ground. His feet were about six inches off the dusty desert floor, and his wrists were agony. He looked up and saw the two men injecting themselves with psycho, a powerful stimulant that gives an extreme high, but the only way to release the aggression, the side effect of the drug, is to indulge it. Cutty knew that occasionally people had been found tied to poles, beaten to death by psycho addicts, who found that a strung up human punchbag was simpler and less dangerous than getting into fights, where any person could be concealing a gun or blade. He knew he would be lucky to get out of this alive…

*

Carl and Kate had shared the psycho needle, the most intimate thing they had done in months. The rush was intense, and they both began to instantly feel the side effects. Carl always felt more aggressive after a needle of psycho, but Kate reacted quite differently. She became permanently and massively aroused and never suffered any of the aggression other users suffered. Carl felt on top of the world, he had not felt this good in ages. He roared and tore his shirt off before knocking the man standing behind him out in one punch. Kate ran her hands across his chest, the look in her green eyes a challenge to him, and he pressed her close to him, and kissed her passionately.

*

Jared, the head of the East Den Cartel, peered cautiously over his cover, an overturned caravan. A group of six men armed with assault rifles were attacking his supply wagons. Each caravan was full of enough drugs to kill a major city twice over. He ducked quickly as a volley of bullets smashed into his hiding place. He tried to reach his men on the radio, but was having no luck. Then he released the safety catch on his handgun and stepped out of his cover. He had not got where he was by being a pussy; he would kill them himself. He fired eight times in quick succession. Four of the men dropped to the ground dead, and another was hit in the left shoulder and knocked to the floor, where he lay bleeding slowly. The last man was unscathed, and he quickly whirled and fired. Jared fired at the same time, three quick shots. Both men jerked backwards as bullets struck their bodies, the unidentified assailant slumping to the floor dead, Jared kneeling, his final breath coming in heavy rasps, before keeling over to the right into a crumpled heap on the dusty desert floor. Jared closed his eyes, and knew peace for the first time in his life.

*

Chuck drained his eighth bottle of beer, and weaved uncertainly through the dancers. He was sweating profusely, and needed to get somewhere with fewer people, somewhere cooler. As he finally freed himself of the huge crowd of people, he saw a couple standing outside a tent, taking money from men, who were entering the tent one at a time, and coming out about five minutes later, then the next one would go in. The man had a bandage over a horrible infected wound on his left leg. He shrugged, and headed over to the bar for another ice cold beer

*

The party wound down at about six in the morning, with the hardy few who had lasted all night setting off for their homes. The stalls packed up and prepared to head back to The Den. When everyone had gone, all that was left was the detritus of the previous night, broken bottles, used needles, discarded wrappers, a few dead bodies and at the edge of the area, an upright pole with a human corpse dangling from it by its hands.

*

They reached their home within the hour, and as soon as they had shut the door, they could not keep their hands off each other. Kate was kissing him hard, her tongue entwined with his, running her hands all over his body. Carl reciprocated, and lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her into the bedroom. He lay her down on the crisp white sheets, and after kissing her once more, he began to sensuously undress her. He started by removing her white high heels, and then he ran his hands up her legs, tracing patterns on her inner thighs with his fingers, Kate moaning with pleasure as he did so, and slowly unzipped the side of her white miniskirt. He pulled the miniskirt off her and placed it delicately on the floor, before returning to his lover. Using one hand he expertly unhooked the front fastening white bra she had worn to the party, and slid it off her body. Then he hooked a thumb in either side of her white thong, and slowly pulled it down, watching it move down her perfect legs, and then casting it aside. He took a moment to admire her naked form, lying on the bed, thirsting for him. In this moment, this perfect moment, she was more achingly beautiful than she had ever been before. He removed his boots, and slowly slid down his trousers and removed his briefs. He climbed on top of her, and they consummated the new-found love they had for each other.

*

We made love all day and slept all through the night. The next day, I got out of bed while Carl was still sleeping, and I got dressed ready for work. I’m a waitress at the Golden Gecko. So anyway, I got dressed and left for work. It was pretty early in the morning, so there was nobody about, and I wandered the empty streets until I reached the Golden Gecko. My boss was standing at the door with a stony look on his face.

‘And where the fuck were you yesterday?’ He inquired.

‘Uh… I wasn’t well, sorry.’ I said.

‘You got a damn right to be sorry bitch, do that again and I’ll replace you. There’s plenty of other bitches out there who need jobs. Do you get me?’ He says, his face flushed with anger.

‘Why yes sir, of course.’ I said coyly. I hate having to do this to this sleazeball, but a bit of flirting and pouting never fails.

‘Right… Well, anyway, you ready to start now?’ He asked, his angry expression melting away.

‘Why of course, I’ll go through right now.’ I said, and went to prepare the bar for the day ahead.

*

Jack was down on his luck. He sat at the bar in the Golden Gecko drinking a large triple whisky. He had lost all his money at a card game at the party last night, and the druglord he owed said that he had a week to pay him or else he was a dead man. He owed one thousand two hundred and fifty dollars. How he was going to get that in a week had been a mystery to him. He couldn’t earn that much in a week, nobody did. He wasn’t much of a criminal either, maybe a bit of a thief from time to time, but hey, who isn’t? Finally he had struck upon a plan conceived in the deepest pits of true desperation. He would travel to The Den with his sister, and sell her to the slavers, and he could even pay the druglord the money while he was there. He had convinced her that they were going to see one of his friends in The Den, and so after finishing his drink, he met up with his sister and they travelled to The Den, a short way to the south-east.

They arrived mid morning on the third day and headed for the centre of town.

*

Carter watched the man walk into the Slaver’s Guild with a young woman in tow. He had been tracking Blade and Jen for a while and was positive they were in The Den somewhere. All that was left was to find them and take them down.

*

Hannah saw the man watching the Slaver’s Guild from behind the bars fitted to the window of her room in The Hole. Things were not going too well, a couple of months ago Frankie had declared her bound to him due to non-payment of debts she knew she had paid in full, and she had been confined to the interior of the building.

The only time she had been allowed out of the room before this was to pick up a customer in the bar, and even that was under the supervision of the evil Sheila. A few weeks back things got even worse for her, when a tall woman entered the bar. Every man in the bar turned to watch her as she walked across the smoky room. She wore military clothing, tightly fitted to her combat honed body. She took off her helmet and shook out a long mane of fiery red hair. Then she looked around, saw Hannah and approached her. She asked how much Hannah charged. Hannah was surprised, but told the woman that it was fifty dollars. She found herself strangely attracted to this woman, whose hard eyes seemed to soften while watching her. They left the bar together, and that night that woman brought Hannah to the highest reaches of pleasure. She taught Hannah how to reciprocate, and she did so gladly, and they spent the whole night entwined together on the bed. In the morning, before she left, she said that her name was Mala, and that she would return. Hannah waited eagerly over the next few days, patiently enduring the affections of her regulars. Then one night, she woke up to a scratching sound at her door, and then she heard a click and the door opened. Framed in the doorway was Mala, holding a lockpick. They spent the night together again, and this time Hannah said nothing about money. All she knew as that she loved this woman with her whole being. However, this time the sounds of their lovemaking brought Frankie into her room and he caught them in the act. He was carrying a double-barrelled shotgun. Mala sprung up and struck him in the face with a perfectly executed punch. He reeled, and Mala fled naked through the door, carrying her clothes.

Frankie had not been impressed. He had demanded a free session with her immediately, and she had no option but to comply and lie there under him, listening to his groaning and puffing, smelling the alcohol on his breath, until he exploded inside her. Then he had beaten her up, and from that point on had made it official that she was his personal property. She was no longer allowed to leave the room at all, and every night he satiated the evil lust he had felt for her since she had started working there, not even giving her respite on her 18th birthday.

She reflected on this as she looked out of her barred window, wondering if her sister was all right, if she was even alive. While musing in this way, she saw a couple dragging a pretty young blonde woman into the Slaver’s Guild.

*

Carter could not believe his luck. His prey had just walked into the Slaver’s Guild. He nervously fingered his handgun and followed them in.

*

The gunslinger roared down the main street of The Den on his customised Harley. He had received a tip that they had been seen at a party near Klamath whoring out some pretty blonde girl, probably Jenny. They had been seen heading towards The Den when the party broke up and the gunslinger figured they were going to sell her to Metzger. He parked up outside the Slaver’s Guild, and slapped a fresh clip into his Mac-10, and headed in.

*

‘Shut the fuck up you bitch, you wanna die?’ Growled Blade as he dragged Jenny through the entrance area into Metzger’s office.

‘The fuck do you want? State your business or get out!’ Said Metzger.

‘We’ve got this bitch for sale. She’s pretty good in the sack.’ Said Blade.

‘Well, pass her here, let’s take a look at her.’

At this Blade pushed Jenny into Metzger’s arms, and he inspected her thoroughly before turning to Blade.

‘She’s all right. I’ll give you a thousand.’ He said.

‘Fuck you man, she’s worth five times as much!’ Spat Blade in anger.

‘I don’t think I like you. I think I’ll keep this little lady and my boys’re gonna escort you two off my property.’ Said Metzger in a dangerously quiet voice.

‘Fuck you!’ Screamed Jen, raising her gun and shooting Metzger through the chest twice.

Everyone froze. Metzger fell to the floor writhing, clutching a sucking chest wound, blood dripping from his mouth. After a short while he stopped twitching, gasped his last and died. Then his men unfroze, and started firing at Blade and Jen. They ducked behind Metzger’s desk and returned fire. However there were too many guards, and the desk was disintegrating under the hail of bullets. They stuck their guns over the top, firing blind, and when they looked up they saw that they had killed the men standing by the door. In unison they made a break for the door. Blade made it through the doorway, and he turned to wait for Jen, but as she came through her chest erupted with exit wounds, splattering his face with her blood. She fell to the floor like a torn rag doll.

‘No!’ Blade screamed.

He lost control. He grabbed her gun and burst out from behind the doorway firing both guns at once. Nobody could have stopped him in the state he was in. He was a force of nature, carrying all before him. Very soon, all the guards were dead. Then he shot Jenny, who he blamed in some obscure way for this tragedy. Then he heard a footstep behind him. He whirled and saw a man pointing a handgun at him.

‘Drop your weapon’ Said Carter.

‘Fuck you!’ He screamed, blazing away at Carter, who returned fire.

In the blizzard of bullets Blade realised through his rage that this man was a better gunfighter. He fired a last desperate volley of bullets at Carter and fled through the door, almost slipping in Jen’s blood. He found the exit blocked by a man wearing a leather jacket pointing a Mac-10 at him. He snarled and leapt at the man, using the advantage of surprise to knock him to the ground, and ran out of the Slaver’s Guild into the street.

*

Hannah had heard the shooting outside. She wondered what was going on.

*

Frankie was startled when a man crashed through the saloon door into his bar. Everyone in the bar stopped and looked at this man. He was tall and wiry, with a bandage over a nasty wound on his left shin. He was splattered with blood and wielding two handguns. The man screamed gutturally and began shooting at people indiscriminately. Frankie caught a bullet between the eyes and collapsed to the floor behind the bar, dead.

*

Carter ran into The Hole, pursued closely by the gunslinger. After meeting one another for the first time a few minutes ago, they had agreed on what to do. Carter had been paid in advance, so they agreed to take Blade down together, then the gunslinger could take the body and receive his payment as well. They burst into the bar to a scene of slaughter. Blood was spattered over the walls and many of the clientele were dead or several streets away and still accelerating. Blade had his back to the door, but heard them and whirled round, pulling the triggers on both his guns. However all Blade got was a click from both guns. They were empty.

‘Say goodnight you sick fucker!’ Said Carter.

Both men fired at the same time, and did not stop until they were out of ammunition. Then they parted ways, and the gunslinger hauled the corpses of Blade and Jen onto his motorbike and rode off to collect his reward.

*

Hannah was terrified. It sounded like a fierce gun battle had taken place in the bar. She knew she was locked in, however, and that the door was too thick to break down. Just then, the lock clicked, and the door opened, and Sheila came in, brandishing a weed knife in trembling hands.

‘Frankie’s dead. My Frankie’s dead.’ She uttered.

‘What’s going on, Sheila?’ Asked Hannah, trying to keep some distance between herself and this raving woman with a knife.

‘I’ve lost everything. Even my dear, lovely Frankie. He preferred you in the end, you know. He stopped coming to me. And now he’s not here to protect you, I’m going to cut your pretty little face off.’ She said as she closed with Hannah, raising the knife ready to stab.

But then two hands gripped her neck from behind and snapped it in one expert movement, tossing the corpse aside. It was Mala. Hannah ran to her, tears of joy streaming down her face as she rained kisses upon her saviour. They left the ruins of The Hole together, only pausing for Hannah to spit on the corpse of Frankie. Then they went to the Slaver’s Guild, and released the slaves from their pens, finding Hannah’s sister in the process. She was a bit bruised but otherwise she had luckily been unharmed.

*

Carter returned to the people of Redding to inform them that Blade and Jen were dead. He took one last look at the town he had avenged, finished his cigarette as the sun went down, and reached a decision, and with that he headed off into the desert.

[Franz Schubert]

Wow. Great story. I like how you intertwined all the stories together so that some were concluded, and some were left open to the imagination. Very Pulp Fiction-esque. Overall, it was very nice, though I was a bit confused at first between Jen and Jenny.

One question though: Was that a happy ending? It was pretty damn grim, but on the other hand, things were wrapped up nicely, and I guess how happy an ending can you hope for in the wasteland huh?