GUN SALAD

Roulette was in the middle of craning her neck, trying to get a good look at their latest foes, when a hot pepper came arcing in through the passenger-side window. It bounced off the side of her mother’s head, (prompting the woman to rattle off a string of cusses) and rolled to a stop at Marka’s feet.

She could tell something was wrong right away. The flesh of the pepper throbbed, as if something was writhing around inside. Roulette threw up her hands instinctively, having already guessed that what came next would be messy.

…But she had no idea how messy.

The pepper exploded like a grenade, except instead of shrapnel, it burst open to emit a splash of pepper juice and orange mist. Its contents transformed the inside of CJ’s car in an instant, bathing the walls, seats, and the passengers themselves in a dewy orange haze.

That was as much as Roulette was able to take in before the suffering began. Pain, intense and excruciating, blossomed in every one of her facial cavities; her eyes, mouth, nostrils, and ear canal stung horribly, and the sound of gasps and hoarse, panicked coughing all around told her that everyone else had been similarly afflicted. She couldn’t see a thing, and she doubted any of her fellow passengers–or, most importantly, the driver–could either.

The sound of metal grating against rock confirmed her worst fears. Just before the pepper went off, they’d been about to drive into the mouth of a narrow canyon. They’d made it, it seemed, but without the benefit of eyesight, her mother was struggling to keep them on the straight and narrow. Roulette could feel the car veering wildly from left to right, scraping up against the canyon walls a dozen times a minute. 

At this rate, she thought, it would be a wonder if they survived.

Next thing she knew, the girl felt the telltale pinpricks of long, metal legs gliding across her arm. The spiders!! She lashed out in a rage, pummeling the hell out of a mechanical arachnid she couldn’t see, and managed to force it back out the window… But the sound of tireless tapping on the roof and elsewhere in the car made the situation clear: she and her friends were being overrun, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

She racked her brain for some solution–some tool she had at her disposal–that could turn things around, but she came up empty. What could possibly save them now? Alcoholic bullets? A bandage? As usual, Lady Luck just wasn’t up to the task. And even if it had been, she couldn’t see. She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe!

…But she could hear. The rumbling of the other car’s motor told her that the Niner duo were still in hot pursuit, and that they weren’t far behind. Before she could second guess herself, Roulette stood up on her seat and took her gun in one hand, feeling around with the other until she located the edges of the shattered rear window. Then she poked the upper half of her body out into the open air, the wind rushing through her hair as she directed her weapon toward the sound of the approaching vehicle.

As expected, something–another pepper, judging by the feel of it–collided with her chest, then bounced harmlessly to the car’s chassis and rolled off onto the ground. Roulette grinned triumphantly through the pain; she’d anticipated that the female Niner, the one her mother had called ‘Tamale’, would be furious enough to fire on her whether it was practical or not. 

In fact, she’d been counting on it.

Sightlessly, Roulette returned fire, adjusting the direction of Lady Luck’s barrel until she could hear her bullets pounding against a windshield. She kept her aim steady until she heard it shatter, and for a few seconds more, until she felt something chunkier than a bullet erupt from her weapon’s muzzle.

A few seconds later, the sound of screaming, crying, and coughing reached her ears, and her smile turned to one of grim satisfaction. She could still hear the sound of her companions wrestling for control of CJ’s car, batting away a relentless procession of metal spiders… But without the male Niner and his big, chrome spider-launcher to shore up their numbers, the spiders’ supremacy was destined to end. Already she could hear Marka getting into the rhythm of forcibly ejecting them, his trunk-like arms swiping them back out into the canyon with every-increasing regularity.

Little by little, they were getting back control. And eventually, even the effects of Tamale’s pepper bombs were certain to recede. In fact, she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but her mother’s driving seemed to be improving. She heard less scrapes, felt less collisions. Were things really turning around? 

…For the first time since Truvelo, (her botched attack on Teresla notwithstanding) had she and Lady Luck actually made a difference?

Suddenly, the Niners’ front bumper smashed into the rear of CJ’s vehicle, jarring her back to reality. The force of the impact was enough to dislodge her from the rear window entirely–she came flying out of the backseat and tumbled across the hood of the offending car, her heart hammering frantically in her chest as the sheer speed of it forced her into a roll. An instant later, she felt the bite of broken glass embedding itself in her arm, and then, oddly, a sensation of warmth beneath her. Comfort.

…As if she’d just tumbled right into a pair of laps.

It was at that very moment that her sight decided to return. She blinked away the pepper-induced tears to find two furious, orange-hued Gunslingers staring down at her. Or trying to, at least; she could tell by their mutual squints that they were as blind as she’d been a moment ago, thanks to the pepper bomb she’d fired in through their windshield during her bold counterattack.

“GET. THE FUCK. OUT OF HERE!!!” Tamale screeched, slapping at her arms and face in a fit of boundless wrath. Roulette screamed and threw up her hands again, writhing in place and trying to mitigate the worst of her blows. Fortunately, the male Niner kept his hands to himself, too distracted by the demands of driving blind to pay her much attention. 

That gave her a much-needed chance to retaliate. Roulette propped herself up and dragged her boots across his lap, (giving little consideration to what she kicked or flattened in the process) all in the name of giving her the stability necessary to lunge at Tamale. This succeeded in helping her gain the advantage, at which point she went to town on the poor girl’s face, slamming her fist into her nose, jaw, and swollen eyelids indiscriminately.

“BITCH!” the girl shrieked, trying in vain to shove her away. The sudden brutality of Roulette’s attack had caught her off-guard, though, and she seemed incapable of offering much resistance. After a few more strikes, blood burbled openly from her nose, and her head was bobbing listlessly. Rather than backing off, though, Roulette reveled in it. The frustration caused by her mother’s meddling and the chronic pain of her numerous wounds spurred her onward, driving her to bash away at the enemy Niner’s unprotected face far beyond what was necessary.

In that moment, she lost herself. She truly didn’t care if she went too far.

Part of her–the part her mother had ‘raised’, perhaps–didn’t even care if she killed her.

But before she could, something hard and heavy came down on her head. It knocked her into an immediate stupor; her mind grew muddled, and her limbs felt heavy. She wasn’t unconscious–not yet, anyway. But she certainly wished she was. Her head lolled forward onto Tamale’s shoulder, and a hand grasped at her roughly from behind, seizing the back of her dress.

“Leave her ALONE!” a voice spat. With surprising strength, its owner heaved her up from Tamale’s side and cast her into the back of the car. Despite the lights dancing in her eyes, she could see his hand from her place in the back, as well as the bloodied butt of the launcher he’d placed up on the dash.

Stupid. Careless. Of course the driver was going to intervene sooner or later. If she’d been more level-headed, perhaps she’d even have seen it coming.

Too late now, she thought, her surroundings growing less distinct by the second. I wonder what will happen to me now…

Before she passed out, she got an important clue: the sensation of the car ahead–her mother’s car–trying to skid to a stop. But the man in the driver’s seat was flooring it. There was no way to stop his momentum. His vehicle forced CJ’s forward, tires throwing up dust as they inched ahead together. There, beyond the dashboard, Roulette could see the open sky.

The sun was setting. They’d reached the other side of the canyon. In the instant before she lost track of her surroundings, she felt at peace. At least, whatever else happened, they were still heading west.

…Then, the vehicle ahead disappeared from view, and she felt a sudden lurch as the Niners’ car tipped right over some unseen edge.