Inferno Girls

by Aaron Michael Ritchey

  This time she didn’t get up right away.

  The fight seemed over. Aces had won us. I felt close to puking.

  Walter laughed. He threw his voice over the crowd. “And the clear victor is—”

  Sharlotte interrupted. “Calling it a little prematurely, aren’t you, Walt?”

  Wren wasn’t down. She was on all fours, waiting, or still dazed ... or something.

  “Get up, Wren!” If she didn’t, Aces would kick her. He could easily break her ribs or even her neck, which would kill her.

  Aces waited.

  “Playing ’possum,” Dutch said. “She can’t take Aces in a head-to-head match. He’s got too much reach on her. So she has to lure him in, then get him.”

  Aces kept his fists up and stayed back.

  Wren got to her feet, swaying. Had it been a trick? Had she been playing ’possum? I didn’t know. Didn’t look like it to me, but then I remembered how she’d tricked Walter with her hurt shoulder, then used her right fist to bludgeon him to his knees.

  Aces went in. Wren blocked punch after punch until she was overwhelmed. Aces feinted with a right, then jabbed her in the stomach with his left, twice, quick. Jab. Jab.

  Wren stumbled back. Her eyes widened, showing whites, shook up and scared. My sister was scared.

  And I had to watch.

  “She can’t grapple with him,” Dutch said, “and she can’t box him. It’ll go either one of two ways. Either she’ll kill herself to kill him. Or she’ll find a way to trick him into letting his guard down.”

  Dutch’s whispered commentary unnerved me. Micaiah didn’t say a word, and Sharlotte stood pale but still so tall.

  Walter watched with mild eyes, used to the violence, but wanting to see more blood.

  I realized there was no plan. I thought Micaiah would’ve come up with some kind of scheme, but it seemed we had all bet on my sister winning, and now her chances looked terrible.

  If she’d been sober? If she’d been healthy? If she hadn’t seen Dutch? Maybe she could’ve taken Aces, but I wasn’t sure. He moved and fought with a sinister, calculated cleverness.

  Wren was out of breath, bleeding, her nose swollen and broken. I knew she didn’t care about her nose ’cause she could heal it back to normal. Heck, she healed teeth back.

  But more than her vanity was on the line.

  Aces moved in and threw punches until Wren was backed up against the wall and she had no choice. She howled, like a cougar for her cubs, like a lonely lost thing with more hate than sense. She went low and grabbed his crotch with her right hand and drove her left elbow into his chin. It was a good try, but Aces must not have had any feeling in his lower parts ’cause it didn’t faze him a bit.

  He spun her around, grabbed her long hair, and bashed her head into the wall. If he had wanted to kill her, he would’ve continued bashing, but he didn’t.

  He wanted her alive, so he could do even more terrible things to her.

  He clamped his arm around her throat and squeezed, choking her. Wren clawed at his thick forearm.

  I’d be damned if I was going to stand there and watch my sister lose a fight she should’ve won. No one had a plan? Fine. I had one, and it involved a whole bunch of bullets.

  I went to snatch one of Dutch’s pistols out of his fancy holster, but he caught my hand. “Oh no, little sister. We won’t be OK-Corralling it today. Not with pistols anyway.”

  His eyes dug into mine. Whose side was he on? And what did he mean? Not with pistols ...?

  “Is there a problem?” Walter asked. “I’m about to call the fight. It’s over.”

  “Wait,” Micaiah said.

  I thought he meant that Wren might turn things around, but no, Aces, like a boa constrictor, was squeezing the life out of her.

  Micaiah had heard something.

  Then I heard it. Distant, but coming closer, a metallic pounding reached our ears, a chuncha, chuncha, chuncha of some kind of machinery moving across the cement.

  “Do you hear that, Walter?” Micaiah asked in an even voice.

  Walter tipped his head. That noise. Could it be ...?

  “Don’t know what it is,” Walter said, thinking hard.

  It was getting louder—the tromping of metal feet. The darkness beyond the torchlight only showed snowflakes.

  Aces stepped back, his eyes going to the north, to where the sound was pounding. Wren stayed on her knees, her hands to her throat. She wasn’t playing ’possum now.

  Louder now, and all the men were looking for the clanking.

  “What is that?” Walter asked.

  “The end of you, partner,” Dutch said. From the bundle of deer hide, he took Wren’s Betty knife and stuck it into Walter’s back. He clapped his other hand over Walter’s mouth so he couldn’t scream.

  The Marilyn Monroe, one of Nikola’s fully functional Stanleys, stomped through the fence on the north side of the pool.

  It was time to burn Glenwood Springs to the ground.

  It was time to go to war.

  (ii)

  The Stanley stomped down the slope, through men, stomping and tromping into the pool, where it started to tip and almost fell, but at the last minute, a great metal-mesh foot rose, and it kept on chugging. It marched across the pool toward us. Smoke swirled into the air from the exhaust on its shoulder. Steam-filled pistons churned. The smell of hot metal, burning coal, and steam struck my nose.

  The Marilyn didn’t slow; I couldn’t figure out why. And then I saw that the cockpits were empty, both the gunner’s roost and the driver’s seat.

  All eyes had turned to watch the Stanley careen toward us.

  Then, from the east, from where the sun would rise the next day, another of the Stanleys, the Audrey Hepburn, broke through the fence and into the warm pool where I’d sat with Nikola and Marisol. The Audrey had both a driver and gunner.

  The men gasped at the juggernaut. Not a second later, the machine guns on Audrey’s arms flashed, followed by the dull thud of heavy caliber gunfire. Men were slain going for their guns or turning to flee.

  Micaiah grabbed my arm. “I’ll drive. Dutch’ll work the guns.”

  “No,” Sharlotte said, “I’ll work the guns.”

  I let my actions speak for me. The Marilyn Monroe smashed into the balcony. I swung myself into the cockpit. The joysticks were bungee-corded forward, and a stick of wood was pressing the accelerator pedal. I saw the kill switch for the steam engine and flipped it. Marilyn went dead for a minute, enough time for Sharlotte to climb into the gunner’s seat.

  From inside the spa, guards opened fire on us. Bullets ping-panged off the Marilyn’s metal skin. Men on the stairs were coming for us on the balcony.

  “Go!” Micaiah yelled. “Dutch and I will catch up. We’ll meet at the vapor caves on the east side of town.” He thrust the deer-skin bundle into the cockpit. Then he joined Dutch in the gunfight with the men charging up the stairs.

  No time to worry about Micaiah. He could survive most bullet wounds. As for Dutch, I might light a candle for him in a chapel somewhere, but I wouldn’t mourn him too hard. Nor would the world.

  In the cockpit, I took a minute to figure out the pedals and the two joysticks. Pedals to accelerate, like a car. Right stick back, left stick forward, we rotated to the right. The opposite configuration swiveled us left. Both shoved forward, we stormed down into the pool and into the boiling water. The Marilyn’s metal legs wouldn’t care. The heat, however, would keep the men from wading in to get to us.

  A copper communication tube connected me to Sharlotte above me. “Light ’em up, Shar. We have to get to Wren.”

  I could almost feel her grim glee. Even though I knew it was coming, I shouted out in surprise when the Marilyn’s guns started thudding. Boxed, belt-fed .50 caliber bullets rumbled like a drumroll around me. Those big, fat bullets ripped men into bloody strips and slashed concrete to rubble. Empty shell casings tinkled to the ground.

  We’d caught the men in a crossfire. The Audrey was to
the east, I was on the western part of the pool, and both Stanleys poured bullets into the crowd.

  Every bullet had the name of a woman who’d suffered the injustices of Glenwood Springs. It was a righteous violence of retribution brought on, not by the strength in our muscles, not fueled by fear and testosterone, but born from the wits of a brilliant woman wrongly imprisoned.

  Not sure if it was Nikola driving the Audrey, but I assumed it was.

  The men returned fire. Bullets sparked across the metal of the Marilyn’s body. A star cracked in the glass of the windshield. Normal glass would have shattered, but evidently Nikola had used bulletproof shielding for the Stanleys’ windows. Must’ve been an especially large caliber to crack it.

  Sharlotte worked the guns. I worked the legs and the engine. We had plenty of pressure for the pistons, but I wasn’t sure how long we could go before I had to reload the firebox.

  Another barrage of bullets hit us from men crouched under the lip of the pool, safe from the Audrey, but not safe from me and Sharlotte and the Marilyn Monroe.

  “You see ’em, Shar?”

  “Yup.” The Marilyn’s right arm pistoned up, and a missile streaked into the men. The explosion wiped them from the world and tossed dog-sized chunks of cement into the air.

  Our way was clear for a minute. We spun, and there was Aces and Wren. Unconscious or dead, she lay motionless on the bottom of the pool.

  I yanked a cord dangling over my right shoulder. The Marilyn screamed, and I hoped it was enough to wake up my sister.

  Aces spun. Someone threw him Tina Machinegun.

  He triggered the grenade, and it tore into the Marilyn, knocking out her right arm gun. Bits of debris sprinkled me, and the window cracked farther. We couldn’t take another blast.

  Aces knew it, too. He called out, “Throw me another grenade! Another grenade now!”

  Panic filled me. “Shar, you gotta get him. You gotta get Aces, or he’s gonna blow us to bits.”

  No response. Had the blast killed her?

  No time to get to Wren’s pistols in the deer-skin. Nothing I could do but smash the acceleration pedal to the metal floor and throw both joysticks forward. I’d have to stomp him down.

  The Marilyn took off toward Aces. Someone tossed him a grenade for Tina. I watched it float through the air in slow-motion.

  He caught it and shoved the grenade into Tina’s launcher. He knelt, ducking any stray bullets flying around in the firefight.

  We wouldn’t make it in time. That close, he’d hit us for sure.

  Still I drove the Marilyn forward. Better to die than to have Aces claim me as one of his brides.

  Aces grinned.

  I winced. That 40mm grenade was going to come through the windshield and take me out.

  Wren appeared behind Aces. She grabbed the necklace which held the chalkdrive and wrenched it back.

  The grenade floated up and over us. It exploded on the far side of the pool.

  I slammed the Marilyn to a stop. Wren wrenched harder on the chain around Aces’s throat. His face turned red, then purple. He threw his elbows, trying to get to Wren, but she avoided the blows. He tried to stand, but she crushed her boots into his calves until he was back on his knees. He threw his weight forward, but Wren was ready for that. She steadied herself, jammed a knee into his back, and pulled even harder on the chain.

  Aces’s head snapped back; his face was purple going black.

  I couldn’t watch.

  When I looked back, Wren stood over his body, the necklace dangling in her hand. She drew the cigar out of her chest pocket. She bent and lit a match off Aces’s dead body. She put a foot on the corpse of that demon man and smoked in victory.

  She’d done exactly what she’d promised.

  “Shar, Wren got him. Aces is dead. You up there? Please answer.” I held my breath.

  “Yeah, Cavvy. I went black for a minute, but I’m back. The Marilyn got hit hard, but she has a whole lotta fight left in her.”

  Wren tossed the cigar, shouldered Tina Machinegun and swung up onto the Marilyn. Through the driver side window, she smiled at me. Her face was bruised and bloodied, but her teeth had survived the fight just fine.

  I rolled down the window, and she slipped the chalkdrive necklace over my head. It had just killed an evil man, and it seemed holy somehow. At least we knew the chain wouldn’t break.

  I lifted her Colt Terminators and her gun belt so she could see. Wren grinned. “Happy birthday to me, but no time to strap ’em on. We have to get the hell out of here.”

  Behind her, smoke filled the air. The throne of Aces and his Glenwood Springs kingdom burned. The Colorado Hotel was ablaze, as were other buildings. But how?

  Men were scurrying around us, running, fleeing. From what?

  At first I thought it was from Nikola, in the Audrey, but it wasn’t.

  The Audrey’s guns rattled on the east side of town, but gunfire exploded to the west. A flare arced above the city, first one, then another.

  Winking open like another sun, a zeppelin’s searchlight blasted down on the walls to the west.

  Another blast shook the ground from some great weapon.

  Sharlotte called down. “Acevedo tanks. ARK soldiers. Do you see ’em?”

  I’d been so focused on getting to Aces and Wren, I hadn’t noticed the city was now under siege. Cuius Regios overwhelmed the remaining men. Another zeppelin’s searchlight sizzled light down on the city in flames. Snowflakes swept over the Kevlar of both blimps, outlining them in a windy, storm-drenched sky.

  The two zeppelins and the Acevedo tanks would give our Stanleys a hard time if we had to face them. But the men of Glenwood were fighting back. A barrage of anti-aircraft shells struck one of the zeppelins. It began a slow descent into the inferno Glenwood had become.

  The ARK had found us during our escape.

  I grinned at the irony, spun the Marilyn around, and headed for the eastern wall and the rendezvous point at the vapor caves.

  (iii)

  It took me a moment, but I figured out how to make the Stanley jump; next to the acceleration pedal was a jump pedal. We sprang out of the pool and took off, moving fast across the concrete. It was snowing harder now, snowflakes sticking to the windshield, making it hard to see. I could only hope the snow would also prevent the Regios and the ARK zeppelins from discovering our escape. God had hidden us with a blizzard before, and it seemed He was doing it again.

  I moved past the hot springs pool, toward the eastern wall built over the old vapor caves, right at the mouth of Glenwood Canyon.

  Behind us the battle raged between the last of the men of Glenwood and the Regios. If the men thought only physical strength mattered in this world, they were about to find themselves a few rungs down on the evolutionary ladder.

  Wren wiped snow off the windshield, clearing it for a minute. Design flaw. I’d have to talk to Nikola about that.

  Well, she was right in front of me, driving the Audrey Hepburn. I moved up next to her on my left side and rolled down the window, old school, no electricity. There she was, that beautiful black woman, smiling.

  “Hey, Ms. Nichols, I have an enhancement request for your Stanleys. Gotta put in windshield wipers.”

  “Everyone’s a critic,” Nikola called back. “And you can call me Nikola.” She sat in the driver’s seat. So who was up above her in the gunner’s roost?

  Didn’t have to wait long. Rachel opened the door and slid down the ladder. Next to her was Marisol, looking a little shaken up; I had the idea she’d been working the guns and not Rachel.

  My heart leapt inside of me. Rachel had been the woman who had come into the city with Dutch. But how did they know each other? And where was Pilate?

  “Cavatica! We rescued you!” Rachel yelled. She jumped from the Audrey to the Marilyn, threw open the passenger-side door, and climbed inside to hug me and kiss my cheek.

  That kiss was bittersweet. I loved seeing Rachel so excited and happy, but I also knew that she
was feeling emotions at the expense of Micaiah. At the expense of our love for each other, Micaiah and me.

  Where was he? Where was Dutch?

  The gunfire and explosions behind us seemed distant, but the ARK would scour Glenwood Springs until they found us. We didn’t have much time. Rachel ran back to the Audrey and climbed back up into the gunner’s roost. Marisol moved into the driver’s seat while Nikola rode shotgun.

  Marisol walked the Stanley up to me so we could talk.

  “Who are the women in the tanks and zeppelins?” Nikola asked. “I’m assuming they are looking for you, since you said something about holding the fate of the world in your hands.”

  “Did I really say that?” I asked. It sounded rather dramatic, but I guess it was the truth.

  “You did,” Nikola said. “Back at the hot springs the night we met.”

  “No time to really tell you the full story,” I said, “but those soldiers are working for the ARK. We have to go before they catch us. You’ll come with us, right?”

  Nikola shook her head. “No. The women and children here need my help. I can’t leave them. But you need to go.”

  Tina Machinegun went off next to me. “The Regios are coming, Cavvy. We have to go. Now.” Wren fired off more rounds.

  Bullets sparked around us. Sharlotte spun the gunner’s seat around, and the Marilyn’s arm weapons thundered. Two Regios crumpled to the ground. Scouts most likely. More would be coming.

  I was surprised to see Nikola climb down the Audrey’s side ladder. In a flash, she had scaled up to me. “I’ll stay and cover for you,” she said. “Just do me a favor and get Marisol back to her people. You can take both the Stanleys.” She paused and smiled. “I have more.”

  I lifted the chalkdrive. The wind and snow would hide us from any onlookers. “Nikola, you need to know, we have the cure for the Sterility Epidemic. We’re taking it east, but I expect us to run into more trouble at the Kansas border. Tibbs Hoyt doesn’t want this getting out into the world.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  Nikola reached out a hand as if she could touch the tech. “It’s shielded, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is,” I said.