The Gunfighter and The Gear-Head (21 page)

“You are also a pilot?” Veronica took a slow,
lingering bite of a piece of star fruit, nibbling down one of the
points in delicate bites that completely engrossed Gieo’s
attention. “That sounds very exciting.”

“Dirigibles…airships,” Gieo said, “although I
would like to put together something faster moving eventually.”

“And I would like to help you. Fiona also
mentioned that you and I are of a like mind in what should be done
with the Slark.” Veronica leaned forward a little, giving Gieo more
than a passing glance at her cleavage. It was an obvious
flirtatious move she’d seen Veronica work with Danny, but there was
something undeniably attractive about the posture for whoever it
was focused on. “Zeke isn’t forward thinking enough for the
position of authority he has. I would like to see this township
governed by a slightly more ambitious, decidedly female, figure. I
would like to push the Slark out of Los Angeles. And, I would like
an air force to do it. I was led to believe you might share some of
these desires.”

Gieo nearly choked on her tea at hearing
almost exactly her plan mirrored in Veronica’s words. Something in
the back of Gieo’s head screamed that it had to be too good to be
true, to proceed with caution, but, gazing into Veronica’s
shimmering hazel eyes, she wanted more than anything to
believe.

“How do you…I mean, do anything, hold Vegas?
Take new places? Attack the Slark? Set up colonies?”

Veronica laid her hand on Gieo’s knee and
smiled, rolling her eyes as if there was such an obvious answer
that the question could only have existed to prompt the response at
the right time. “With an army, of course,” Veronica said. “The
world was left with soldiers, hundreds of thousands of them,
without any chain of command, any structure, or any paycheck.
Soldiers are broken, tamed horses, in desperate need of
organization and command; we give them what they crave and the pay
they deserve. We have soldiers from as far away as Cuba, Canada,
Mexico, and El Salvador fighting for the Lazy Ravens, although the
primary backbone of our forces is still, and likely always will be,
American.”

“A few hundred?”

Veronica shook her head. “The last numbers I
saw put our force in the neighborhood of fifty thousand.”

“How is that even possible? Just to feed and
organize an army that big you would have to…”

“…have a government? We do. Taxes,
healthcare, regulations, elections, sanitation, water works,
foreign affairs, everything you’d imagine a good government should
do.” Veronica motioned over one of the women at the serving bar,
who seemed to be waiting for the summons. The woman grabbed a
rolled piece of paper around the size of a wall poster and walked
it over to the table. “There are always the ridiculous types that
were thrilled to see the government go, and we encourage them to
exercise their ‘rugged individualism’ on whatever worthless piece
of dirt they want to go die alone on, but the vast majority of
people figured out very quickly that society was the only thing
keeping them from a short, miserable life ending in a violent,
often disease-riddled, death. These people, the pragmatists, the
enlightened, are the ones we welcome, and they live much longer,
happier lives as part of something greater. Humans are social
creatures and we work best when we work together.” On the final two
words of the speech, the woman with the rolled paper, unfurled what
she carried to show Gieo a redrawn map of North America. Huge
swaths of land in the North East, New York, Boston, Washington
D.C., the Great Lakes, and surroundings areas were blacked
out—lands purged of all life in the great cataclysm that had
finally brought down the Slark’s technology, destroying nearly
everything humanity had as well in the process. The south was
redrawn in red as the Confederate States. The Midwest was carved
into fragmented pieces, pulled together as the Omaha Pact. In the
mountains, the western states, Nevada, Colorado, Utah, Idaho, parts
of eastern Oregon and Washington, on up into Montana and Canada was
labeled Raven territory. Texas and Old Mexico appeared to be under
Mexican control, although in nothing as solid as a country.
Arizona, New Mexico, and the surrounding deserts were all labeled
Barrier City States. The entire west coast, with an epicenter in
Los Angeles where Gieo always suspected the Slark’s mother ship had
crashed, was labeled Slark territory.

“This is North America as it stands now,”
Veronica explained. “Mexico was once an ally to the Ravens, a
partner to rely on, but they have fallen to disease, and look to be
taken soon by the Slark if something isn’t done. The Omaha Pact
feeds both us and the Confederate States—we are not friends with
the Confederates. They are the patriarchy of old unified under the
same rebel flag of Dixie from the Civil War. The only thing that
remains to be seen is what the Barrier City States will
choose.”

Gieo could see the Raven’s interest in the
Barrier City States. If the Slark did take Mexico, their capitol of
Las Vegas would be nearly surrounded on three sides with only
Tombstone and Tempe to watch its back. “I don’t understand…” Gieo
lied. The world was recovering, well beyond what she’d expected,
and her little dreams of flying airships against the teeth of the
line felt frivolous in comparison to the nation building Veronica
was proposing. Gieo suddenly felt like she was standing on the
precipice dropping off into the sea or at the forefront of an
uncharted world; everything was so much bigger and more frightening
than she ever knew. Still, she didn’t want to let on that she knew
Veronica’s true intentions. “What do you need from me?”

“If what Fiona says is true, you could be the
mother of the first air force in the new world,” Veronica said. “We
need you, Gieo. Humanity needs you.”

Chapter 14:
Mistakes of
identity.

Veronica sent
Gieo on her way with a sack containing at least as many coins as
she’d given Fiona. In addition to the coins, Gieo was also given a
list of things she might consider doing to ingratiate herself to
the Lazy Ravens; most of the items involved making headway on
finding pilots, building airships, and turning Tombstone’s opinion
positive in regards to the Ravens.

Gieo was so busy reading the list she almost
didn’t notice Zeke storming his way up to the old courthouse. She
managed to jump out of the way at the last moment. Zeke didn’t seem
to recognize her in the saloon girl dress, glassing over her as
just another one of the women lounging in front of the brothel.
From the clenched fists at his sides and determined lean to his
steps, Gieo could easily deduce he wasn’t there to take part in
relaxation services. As frightening as Zeke normally was, Gieo
assumed his manners would have to change in Veronica’s company if
he wanted to walk back out.

Stephanie, one of the younger girls with a
shock of bright pink dyed hair dangling over her face, was to be
Gieo’s escort back to the saloon on the off chance more cultists
were on the lookout for the Asian she-devil. Why the cultists
focused on her rather than the three dozen Lazy Ravens was beyond
Gieo, and, quite frankly, seemed a little single-minded. Stephanie
was a less interesting walking partner than Veronica, apparently
more concerned with bitching about Tombstone than actual
conversation. She linked arms with Gieo, but did so only out of a
sense of duty, keeping her free hand on the Uzi dangling from the
shoulder strap at her side. Gieo felt safe, knowing full well
Stephanie wouldn’t have been chosen if she didn’t know how to use
the compact machine gun, but Gieo quickly wished Veronica had
personally walked her home, if only for the charm factor.

The walk went without incident, and Stephanie
took her leave with little more than a nod and an ‘it’s been fun.’
Dinner, for better or worse, actually smelled edible when Gieo
walked in through the swinging doors. She began to wonder if Bond-O
might be something of a savant or at least a quicker study than
she’d given him credit. She poked her head inside the kitchen to
find him busy at the great, black stove, throwing mountains of
ingredients into a bubbling cauldron of stew. His immediate concern
was stirring in the contents of an ancient bag of jelly beans. As
odd as the pile of items next to the stew pot were, they all seemed
to be more or less edible, so Gieo decided to let things alone.

“Looking good, Bond-O,” she said.

“Mitts have another knife-ccident,” Bond-O
explained. “Told me to make stew alone. Bond-O was really sorry
though.”

“Maybe Mitch is just knife-ccident prone,”
Gieo said with a smile. “When it’s ready, can you send up two bowls
to Fiona’s room?”

“Bond-Go!” he exclaimed with a thumbs up on
his three-fingered hand.

Gieo checked Fiona’s room only to find the
gunfighter not at home. She’d passed her car on the way in, which
meant she hadn’t gone hunting. Gieo headed to the roof to see if
Ramen had seen her, but instead found Fiona at the edge of the
roof, beneath the patio umbrella, watching the video feed from the
cultist compound. Fiona looked concerned by something. Her gun hand
rested on the side of her holster, idly tapping her fingers against
the leather in a nervous tic she didn’t appear to be aware of.

“Is everything okay?” Gieo asked.

Fiona snapped her head around. Her hand went
from tapping to gripping the gun’s handle. She relaxed when she saw
Gieo. “No,” Fiona said through clenched teeth. “The cultists are
arming themselves.”

“With what? Sharp points on their canes?”

“Guns and Molotov cocktails.”

Gieo jogged across the roof to get a better
look at what Fiona was talking about. Sure enough, in
low-definition black and white, there the cultists were,
stockpiling assault rifles and pistols alongside bottles with rags
dangling from their tops. As far as nonsensical, insane methanol
drinking behavior went, this had to take the cake.

“The last thing this town needs is a couple
hundred, half-blind lunatics spraying bullets and hurling
firebombs,” Gieo muttered.

“I tried to get a hold of Zeke to give him a
heads up, but Rawlins said he was out.”

“I saw him going into the Raven Nest,” Gieo
said. “He looked angry.”

“Maybe he already knows.”

“It looked more like an anger meant for
Veronica than a general displeasure with the world at large.”

Fiona tore her attention away from the screen
where she’d been cataloguing weapon numbers, types, and location.
She glanced up to find Gieo leaning forward, one hand on the arm of
the lawn chair and the other across the back. The tight-fitting top
of her dress had pushed her modest breasts up into a few fingers
worth of cleavage. Fiona decided she was more of a quality than
quantity type when it came to breasts; Gieo might not have much,
but what she did have was pure perfection.

Gieo caught on the gunfighter’s adjusted gaze
and leaned forward even further. “Do you think they might be hiding
some guns in there too?” she said with a wry smirk.

“If you’re going to lean over with those
things in my face, you can’t get irritated when I look at them,”
Fiona grumbled.

“Who’s irritated?” Gieo laughed. “Look,
touch, lick, fondle, whatever. The collar I’m wearing might be for
show, but I thought I was pretty clear in letting you know I was
fine with it meaning possession for real. You’re the only one
holding you back as of late.”

“What if I said I was done holding back?”

“I would say it was about damn time.”

Fiona grabbed Gieo around the waist, spun her
once, and landed Gieo across her lap. Gieo giggled in spite of
herself, and draped her arms over Fiona’s shoulders when she came
to rest comfortably on the gunfighter’s lap. Fiona leaned up and
kissed Gieo with an urgent sweetness when Gieo expected rougher
treatment. The softness of the kiss, the warmth of the embrace, and
natural feeling of sitting on Fiona’s lap all combined to melt
every nerve in Gieo’s body. There were no affectations with Fiona;
she was what she was—Gieo really started to like that about her.
Fiona’s attention left the kiss. Her lips followed, making their
way down Gieo’s neck, kissing along her exposed collar bones, and
finally leaning her back a little to kiss across the top of her
modest cleavage. Gieo’s skin burned under the kisses; the heat of
desire only spread with Fiona’s hot breath, pushing the wildfire
throughout Gieo’s body. She wanted Fiona to have her, right then,
right there on the roof, and she couldn’t be bothered to care if
anyone saw or heard what they were doing.

“Horses, boss!” Ramen came roaring across the
top of the roof, his twin propellers kicking up the dust that had
collected on the scant remaining inventory.

“Mother fucker!” Gieo shouted in frustration.
“I’m already working on getting you a puppy—there’s no way you’re
getting a horse until I see how well you do with a dog.”

“Not for me, boss,” Ramen said, completely
unfazed by the cursing or angry tone to Gieo’s voice. “Horses are
getting unloaded from the train.”

Fiona responded this time. She lifted Gieo
off her lap, leapt from the lawn chair, and scooped up the
telescope. She ran to the far edge of the roof and looked east
toward the rail station. Not only was there another train only days
after the first, it was a different train, and it was indeed
unloading horses along with another two dozen Lazy Raven ladies.
They looked to only be about halfway through a very lengthy process
that might stretch on for several hours more.