Ghouls of Gehenna - Chapter 2

We stumbled up to Dustrocks right at noon, right as the sun was as high as it could possibly be. Sister June seemed to be none too bothered by the heat and the sun. I, on the other hand, was dying. 

“You aren’t dying,” she said. 

“The hell… I’m not…”

“Calm down, feel the Lord’s light.” 

“I’m feeling it now, it’s hotter than hell.” 

“You two! Stop!” One of the men guarding the gates yelled to us. “Friend or foe?” 

“We’re with the Monastery!” Shouted June. 

 I watched them shoot each other a look. One of them rubbed the back of his head and started walking away. “I’m not dealing with them,” I could hear him say as he left. 

“The Monastery, huh? You know your territory is,” he pointed back the way we came, "back that way." 

 I stumbled up to him, and managed to get ahold of his collar. “Do you see a car? We’re dying out here for shits’ sake. Open the god damn gate.” 

 He shoved me back with the stock of his rifle. “Get the hell off of me. Fucking freak. I’ll let you in, but don’t go stirring shit up. We have enough issues with the baron and with those Haven hunters.” 

 Haven hunters? Don’t tell me… “Whatever, just let me… us, in.” 

 He reluctantly opened the gate. The town wasn’t any nicer or less hot on the inside. In fact, with the generators and motors and crap running all over the place, it might have been hotter. I was dragging my feet, and ended up tripping over the baking corpse of a dust rat. I almost went face first into the dirt, but someone caught me. 

 I looked up. It was the self-righteous sister. “Forgive me,” she said. “I may have been a bit inconsiderate. Let’s get you inside.” 

 She pulled me up a set of steps like a soldier rescuing their injured comrade. Before I knew it we were through the doors of the saloon and I was sitting securely in a chair, glass of water in front of me. I took a sip. It wasn’t cold. 

“Cold water’s liable to kill ya,” the bartender said. “Send ya right into shock. Don’t want that.” He started to walk away. “No ma’am ya don’t want none of that at all… not at all, no ma’am.” 

 I laid my head on the table. The wood had to be a hundred degrees cooler than the sand. How in the hell did I get here. 

 I thought back to last year, that day at the compound. She was there, we were together. The world had long since fallen apart but I didn’t care. She, on the other hand… that was a different story. Everything, she wanted to fix everything. These people, the violence, the whole world. It was all a project to her. She wanted it all, and I just wanted her. 

 And now she was gone. 

 Woke up one morning, and that was it. She wasn’t there. She abandoned me and the rest of the Marquis. Oh, right…

 I looked up. The bartender was shooting the shit with a man who had a shotgun slung across his back, shells lining his forearm. 

 I couldn’t let anyone know I was Marquis. 

“Anna.” It was Sister June’s voice. 

“What?”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” 

I eyed the shotgun carrying man again. "Oh, here and there." Actually it was elite combat training. That would give me away, though. 

I heard June gasp. "Your patch!" She said in a worried hush. "You're Marquis!" 

Fuck! My patch! I'd been sloppy. 

A gloved hand clamped down on my shoulder. "Excuse me," said a gruff voice. "I'd like to talk to you about that patch you just covered up." 

I thought, quickly. "Which patch? Sorry, this itch is driving me crazy." I scratched where the patch was. 

"Where… did you get this jacket?" 

"Oh, this? I'll be honest with you, I pulled it off a corpse. Figured I shouldn't let it go to waste." 

The man removed his hand from my shoulder, but eyed me all the same. "I see." He gripped my Marquis patch and ripped it off with force. "You should be more careful. This patch is associated with a dangerous organization. One that we shoot on sight." 

"I see, I see. Thank you for the warning." 

The moment he walked away my fight or flight kicked in. "Sister, I'm leaving." 

"Wait!" She reached for my arm but I was already too far away. 

"Wait! Anna!" She caught up to me. "You were lying!" 

"Lower your voice!" 

She cleared her throat. "You lied to that man." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"I don't have any fight with the Marquis. Just tell me the truth." 

"I…" but we were interrupted by shouting. 

"What would your mother think, huh?" 

We made our way over to the gallows. "Fascist dickheads, here to serve the interests of mayor Garvin and his little ass-boy squad." 

"Fuck you, Sophie, you shit-stirrer. Get a God damn hobby." 

"I have one, it's making your life harder!" 

The girl shouting at the guards up on the gallows looked like she was 16 years old. They were getting ready to hang her. 

Right as she was screaming something about water wells, they got ready to drop the platform. I ran for her life. 

Thunk! The floor opened up. 

The feet crashing into my shoulders felt none too good. 

"What! Hey! Get the hell out from under there!" The guard shouted. I stood there, holding this girl up with my hands by her feet, preventing her weight from doing the rope's work. 

"Sister, cut her down." I said. 

"You're joking. You want to make all three of us a target?" 

"What does your god even stand for?" 

She was caught off guard by the question. 

"What?" 

"If your god's gonna sit in his ivory tower and watch this kid get executed then he really is as pathetic as I thought." 

"Excuse me?" The sister unconsciously placed her hand on her revolver. "He won't help those who won't help themselves." 

"Then what the fuck are you for? What's your job?" 

"Damn it!" She drew her revolver as the guards started shouting at her. Crack! The rope snapped and the girl fell right into my arms, sending us both into the dust. 

"Hands where I can see them!" The guard shouted. He pistol-whipped the sister, splitting her lip. 

"That's enough!" Shouted a commanding voice. 

A man in a ragged suit stepped up onto the gallows. He looked at the girl and myself, and then at the sister. 

"Fuck you Gavin, you p…" I clamped my hand over the girl's mouth. 

"Time and place," I said. 

"17 Regs," he said. I continued to stare at him. "17 Regs and she's yours." 

She's mine? Oh… 

"I see slavery is still alive and well in the southwest," I said. 

"She's merely paying off her debts." 

I knew how this shit worked. It wasn't even her debt. It was a dead parent's, a 'broken bottle' at work, a phony medical bill. It was always something like that. 

"Deal." 

I pulled 18 Regs from my pocket and handed all but one to the besuited prick. 

"Glad to do business with you," he said. 

"Come on," I grabbed the girl by the arm and pulled her up. "We have shit to do."