Genevieve returned to the back of the cart. The black-haired man was taking a closer look at his musket, turning the thing over in his hands like a fine wine swirled around the tongue. “Honestly, it’s impressive work for somethin’ she slapped together with whatever scrap Lenn had lying around. Can’t knock her on craftsmanship, even if she is out of her damn mind.”
“If there’s one thing the demon knows better than anyone, it’s gunpowder,” said the redhead, sitting down against the side of the cart with her own musket laid out across her legs. “S’posedly she’s related to some famous gunsmith out west. That’s where she got those weird-ass revolvers from.”
“She did actually say something about that,” Genevieve said. She was a little surprised when she realized it was out loud. “Uh, the other day. She told me the, uh, the chambers…” She pantomimed rotating the cylinder the way she had seen Marcie do. “Apparently that whole thing was her father’s design. She said.”
“Well there you go, Baron.” The woman shrugged nonchalantly. “Mystery solved.” She looked over at Genevieve. “You can call him Baron, by the way,” she said. “Know we didn’t have time for introductions, with the fleeing and all that. And I’ll go by Queen, so don’t get all fussed about it.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Genevieve said. “I realize we’re throwing titles around, but I’ll just be Jen, if that pleases you.”
“Oh, that suits me just grand,” Queen said with a husky chuckle. “I don’t need anybody challenging my authority, after all.”
“You don’t gotta feed her ego, girl.” Baron shook his head disapprovingly, though his tone was more mocking than disappointed. “Woman’s built like a brick wall but she’ll still take any chance to feel bigger.”
“Don’t you push me, runt,” Queen responded, and Genevieve couldn’t help feeling there was some inside joke going way over her head.
The two of them made an interesting pair. They both cut tough, muscular figures, with calloused hands and scarred bodies, and they shared a raucous and belligerent demeanor. That was where the similarities ended. Baron was short and stocky with dark, frazzled hair and tanned, tawny skin, while Queen was tall, easily six foot and change, and almost as pale as Genevieve herself. Baron had confidence, but Queen had bravado, and an undeniable, centralizing presence that lived up to her chosen moniker. She was a foghorn, goading you into action all at once with overwhelming bursts of energy, while Baron was stern and gruff, a solid wall who would push you forward inch by inch whether you wanted it or not
Neither of them seemed nice, or particularly kind. But they didn’t seem unkind, either. They simply were, and didn’t seem particularly concerned with how anyone else figured into that. For all their sniping, they clearly had a rapport, and Genevieve got the sense there was some affection there, despite their contentious way of showing it. They were rude to each other, but somehow they didn’t seem mean.
On some level Genevieve knew whatever reason they had for wanting out of the city so badly, it was certainly something… illicit. If not illegal, then at least in some kind of grey area, surely. But that didn’t bother her. In fact, she found herself respecting them. They were here for their own reasons, and they would be going their separate ways at their earliest convenience, but they had gone at least a little bit out of their way to help her. That wasn’t nothing.
While she was having that thought, Genevieve realized she hadn’t heard the constant refrain of gunfire from the city in the last minute or two. She walked herself out to the back of the cart and leaned out to look over at the wall, as though that would somehow grant her any information at all.
Once she had seen the nothing there was to see, Genevieve ducked back into the cart. Queen looked her over quizzically. “Demon girl standing you up, ya think?”
“What–no,” Genevieve said, a little more annoyed than she expected to be. “I mean, if she’s not here it’s probably because something happened to her. That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Hard to think someone could bite off more than they can chew with chompers like those,” Baron said in a deadpan.
“She’s not invincible.”
“She’s not?” Queen prodded.
“No!” Genevieve didn’t know why she was protesting so much. “I mean, I threw her into a lot of danger because I assumed she would be able to handle it. And I know that if anyone could it would be her but, still. That is assuming anyone could.”
“Uh huh,” Baron said. “So did that idea not occur to you before, or did you just not care about it?”
“That’s not…” Genevieve began, but then she shook her head. “It hadn’t occurred to me. I admit it. I assumed, based on how I’d seen her handle herself, that it simply wouldn’t be possible for Cornelius to throw something at her she couldn’t overcome. I just took that idea for granted. And now, yes, I am afraid that I made a foolish assumption and got someone hurt for it. That is what you want to hear, isn’t it?”
“Simmer down, Jen,” Queen said, emphasizing the name in a way that made Genevieve realize she probably seemed a lot more like a royal now than she had a few minutes ago. “We ain’t out of this yet. Have your little guilt trip freak-out some other time.”
“Yeah, girl, you gotta cool it.” Baron sat on top of a small crate that had come loose from the pile. “Way too late to start regretting your decisions. Gotta live with ‘em now. And besides, she’s still got time to show.” He looked over his shoulder to the front of the cart. “Ain’t that right, Samara?”
“If she doesn’t show up in sixty seconds I’m getting us the hell out of here,” Samara called back.
“Don’t be like that,” Baron coaxed. “Least give her five. Rather not leave the killer demon high and dry, that’s askin’ for a bad time.”
“Marcie isn’t vengeful like that,” Genevieve insisted. “I mean, I want to give her as much time as we possibly can. But I’m… just saying. You don’t have to fear her.”
“Yeah, well, fear her or not,” Baron said, “if something goes wrong between now an' when we get to ditch this cart and go to ground, I'd rather have her here than not."
"One hell of an insurance policy, that's for sure," Queen agreed.
Baron glanced at her. "Did you do that on purpose?"
"Do what?"
“Nevermind.”
Genevieve sighed and stepped once again out the back of the cart. She stared up at the wall for a full minute. Then another. Then a third. Time kept ticking anxiously by, and there was no sign of Marcie, no matter how hard Genevieve looked.
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“All right, look, I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous,” the driver called back to her. “We can’t just sit out here and wait to be caught, we gotta get moving.”
“Hate to say it, girl, but she’s sounding just about right by now,” Baron concurred.
“Not yet,” Genevieve said firmly, stepping back into the cart. She was insisting now. Bringing out the royal voice, even if it made them resent her. “We have to give her at least a few more minutes. The guards will assume we’re long gone by now, they won’t be patrolling the walls yet.”
“They don’t gotta be patrolling, they just gotta poke their heads over their lil lookout post things. Like takin’ out their stupid little spyglasses and staring out into the badlands all ‘oh where’d they go where’d they go where’s that cart’ and then they look down and we’re just sitting here like a buncha maroons.” Queen shook her head, arms folded. “My vote’s on us getting out of here, too.”
“Please.” Genevieve persisted, softening her tone. She didn’t want to act like some spoiled child of nobility. But she couldn’t let them abandon Marcie. “We can’t leave yet. Just a little longer, I swear to you–”
All too close there was a huge explosion, loud enough that Genevieve could swear the cart shook a little. She stuck her head out the back to see a plume of smoke rising over the wall.
“All right, well, maybe we shoulda seen this one coming,” Baron said dryly. “Speak of the devil, blammo, there she is.”
“Where is she?” Queen asked. “You see anything?”
Genevieve stared up to the top of the city wall, fifteen feet high, and shook her head reluctantly. “N–no. Not yet. There’s nothing…”
She caught a glimpse of movement out the corner of her eye, all but hidden by the cloth roof covering the cart. “There! She’s up there!” She ran outside to get a better look and there was Marcie, up on top, backing up towards the edge. Two loud gunshots rang out as she fired at whoever was pursuing her, and she glanced over her shoulder, towards the ground below. Genevieve waved to her urgently, and then realized almost too late what she was planning.
“She’s jumping! Catch her!” Genevieve shouted.
Baron and Queen stared at her dumbfounded, but then Queen shrugged and said, “All right, whatever.” She stood up straight and held her arms out in position for a princess carry.
Not a second later a girl-shaped object dropped through the canvas ceiling. The whole covering came with her, and she fell directly into Queen’s arms.
“Drive,” Marcie said flatly, unfazed by being held, or by being wrapped in a tarp. “Drive. Drive. Drive drive drive drive.”
“Way ahead of you!” Samara yelled back. She didn’t need to coax the horses into running this time. They bolted as soon as they heard the horrible, grinding metallic shriek from the other side of the city wall, loud and terrible enough to make the walls themselves shake.
“What the hell is that?” Baron asked.
“Problem.” Whatever it was, it had made Marcie an even worse talker than usual. “Lemme go,” she said, kicking her legs as she tried to pull herself out of Queen’s grip and the large canvas sheet she was tangled up in.
Queen dropped her unceremoniously, and Marcie spun herself around in the air to land deftly on her feet atop the canvas. With her guns in her hands, she stepped forward, keeping steady balance as the horses turned back onto the road and the whole cart swung wide behind them. She raised her guns towards the city walls, and held them level despite the bumps and jolts of the cart.
The sun glinted off a piece of heavily polished steel, creating a spark of light near the top of the city wall. And then something rose up over the parapets.
It was big. The size of a small house, or at least a large shed. The first thing Genevieve could see over top the wall was its head, long and narrow. It had the vague outline of an animalistic snout made of jagged, broken metal, with singed, sparking copper threads poking out of it at wildly erratic angles. The vague remnants of a metal plate suggested there must have been something there before, some kind of design that gave the head shape and structure, but it had been blown apart, leaving only charred, broken remains.
The monstrous machine pulled itself up over the top of the wall with two short, stubby front legs. The design of it invoked some sort of reptile, something long and sharp and dangerous. As it leaped over top the wall Genevieve could see its long quadrupedal body, with a broad mechanical tail and four feet topped with frighteningly massive steel claws. When it hit the dirt outside the city the ground under their cart shook.
“Holy shit,” Baron said.
Queen tossed him his musket and crouched down with her own at the ready. “Don’t rip your head off yet. Least take your shot first. And make it fucking count.”
Marcie silently aimed her guns, and Genevieve retreated back to the pile of cargo, trying to make herself a small target once again. She slipped her earplugs back into her ears, and then held her hands over them too, because she simply didn’t know what else to do.
The robotic creature stood still for a second at the foot of the city wall, like it was processing something. Then it turned and seemed to lock onto the cart. Another second passed. And it burst forward like it had been shot from a cannon, dashing across the road towards them, closing distance at disconcerting speed.
Baron and Queen took the first shots. They aimed carefully and each landed clean hits on the front legs. The bullets hit and lodged in place, crumpling the metallic feet it was pulling itself forward on. For a second it seemed like they had successfully slowed the thing down, at the least, making its steps awkward and unbalanced. But it only lasted for a second before the creature’s gait adjusted with an unnatural, mechanical jerk. And it kept barreling forward as though nothing had been damaged at all.
Then Marcie opened fire.
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM
She peppered the beast with a barrage of bullets, blasting holes in the metal plating that covered it, blowing away chunks of its feet and its legs and what remained of its face. The horrible sound of grinding metal got worse with each new bit of damage she inflicted, but in the end none of it seemed to matter. The machine continued its chase unimpeded.
As it approached Genevieve could see the thing was riddled with holes, pockmarks up and down its body where Marcie’s bullets punched through it. None of them seemed to be slowing it even a little. Redundancy, Marcie had said that first day. Maybe this monster had more of it.
“Shit.” Baron tossed his musket aside, no longer interested in reloading it just to take another useless shot. “How the hell are we supposed to kill that thing?”
“Same as any of ‘em. Put a hole in the control unit. It’s gotta have one. Just haven’t found it.” Marcie was in constant motion, spinning her cylinders, swapping the clips in her guns, but she wasn’t panicked. Her movements were deliberate, practiced, steady, in control. “Shots don’t have enough power to bust all the way through, so I gotta get close. Hit it where there’s the least armor. Just ain’t found the angle.” She dropped one of the revolvers. Her tail picked it up out of the air and holstered it. “Don’t worry. I got it.”
“Ah good. She’s got it.” Queen sat back on a cargo crate and started loading her musket once again. “Sure ya don’t need anything from the rest of us?”
“Just drive,” Marcie said, two hands on the grip of her gun as she raised it towards the mechanical beast, her aim steady, her finger motionless on the trigger. “Keep ‘em running straight ahead.”
“I wasn’t gonna do a hell of a lot else!” Samara shouted.
The robotic thing kept charging for them, running across the dry badlands with a winding, sinuous gait, almost like it was swimming.
“It’s getting fuckin’ closer,” Baron muttered through gritted teeth.
Unfortunately, he was right. Inch by inch, the thing was catching up.
“This ain’t lookin’ especially brilliant, devil girl,” Queen said snidely.
“I got it,” Marcie barked, annoyed this time. “Just wait for it.”
The thing got even closer.
“Just wait for it,” Marcie repeated.
It was right behind them now. If the sharp, triangular metal plating around its head hadn’t been blown off, it would be touching the cart.
The thing reared back, metal screaming and grinding, sharp steel poised to attack, to crush and to rend. Its ruined mouth filled with angry sparks of lightning, popping and crackling with furious menace.
Marcie held perfectly still at the edge of the cart, cloak whipping about her as the wind rushed by.
She muttered under her breath. “Should be right…”
The monster leaped. Reams of jagged steel and shrieking electric discharge plummeted toward the cart. Marcie framed perfectly between the jaws about to snap her body in half.
Her trigger finger twitched.
“There.”
BLAM
A gunshot rang out across the empty badlands. And seconds later it was followed by the squealing, grinding, metallic cacophony of a robotic beast crashing dead to the ground.
EPISODE 1 - BLACK POWDER WEDDING
END
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