Red Star Sheriff

by Timothy Purvis

  Aidele raised her right gun arm and repeated the process. She kept firing, her screams competing with the booms for dominance. The riders in the meantime either followed the general’s action, or scattered in every direction. One of those riders clearly had been carrying explosives as, upon being hit, a massive fiery explosion took out four riders, leaving the battlefield full of burning detritus and a wall of flames. One man went flying through the air, his body a screaming, flaming sack of flesh. Riders in cover behind their horses kept their heads down for the carnage.

  Sam Berricks looked at them and shouted. “What the fuck are you waiting for!? Shoot the little shit!”

  He fired at Aidele as she fixed him with her snarling visage. The shot ripped through her left shoulder and spittle flew from her mouth. She brought up her right gun arm.

  Flash. Boom.

  The blast vaporized Berricks’ left arm and part of his shoulder sending his body flying backward nearly fifteen feet. Other riders opened fire hitting Aidele, causing her to fall back and over the bluff.

  Durante slid down after her and found her coughing and raging incoherently.

  “Hold on! Hold on!” he raised his hands in a placating gesture and rushed to the shed.

  The door slid open easily, much to his relief. He rushed inside, found his buggy sitting nicely in the center, started it up, and drove it out to Aidele. He leapt out and went to help her up. She was shot up bad and bleeding everywhere.

  “Come on! Let’s get out of here! You can do it!”

  She wrapped her right arm around his neck and she stumbled into the passenger’s seat. He grabbed a blanket from the back seat to wrap around her body and grabbed two dustmasks as well, placing them over both their heads. Then rounded to the driver’s side, grabbed a jacket from behind the seat, slung it on as he got behind the wheel. He glanced back once to see if anyone was giving chase. Apparently Aidele had given them enough to think about because all he heard was screaming and cries for help. The flames were roaring sky high. But the shooting had stopped.

  “Nice job,” he muttered and turned back around.

  The open-faced vehicle spun around and Durante gunned it towards the duststorm praying that Aidele was right about that science station and he’d be able to find it.

  SAM BERRICKS LAY there bleeding as two soldiers tried to staunch the blood flow from the shredded nob of his left shoulder. He lifted a finger on his remaining hand and pointed at a man nearby hiding behind his horse. The shooting might have stopped, but he couldn’t afford to take any further chances.

  “Go… find out… if she’s… dead.”

  “All due respect, sir, fuck that!” the man replied. “I can’t go back out there! I’ve never seen anything like it! Oh god!”

  Berricks let his arm fall back to the ground and he turned away from the quivering soldier. His head fell back to the ground and sensed unconsciousness clawing at his mind. He stared at the sky hearing another roar that might have been another explosion or just a hallucination. Then Nielson was kneeling over him with a hand to his chest.

  “Take it easy, sir. We saw what happened. I’ve already given directions and we’re dealing with the situation.” Nielson offered a wry twist of his lips. “Quite the spectacular mess.”

  “Get me… back… to the ship…”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be back soon. Just rest. Let the medics take care of you.”

  Berricks closed his eyes as the two medics worked on bandaging him up. Nielson sighed and stood up to take in the carnage. Fire raged uncontrollably, burning horses and men in equal measure. Screams had yet to abate. Of the twenty-seven soldiers they had brought, thirteen were dead. The rest sustained various degrees of injuries. Two potentially fatal.

  Hard to believe all of this was dished out by one young woman. Never thought she was capable of this from our first meeting. He frowned. Gotta stop underestimating these Wastelanders.

  His eyes fell on a group of six riders far in the distance, dust flying high behind them as they raced across the Sutures plains eastward. Nielson gritted his teeth.

  Must have turned tail and rode off when the shooting started. Damn shame only one of your bodies graces this battlefield, Ms. Lynch. Never you fear, though. We will meet again. I’m certain of it.

  A low whine echoed out and Nielson turned to look out towards the Dustlands. A buggy sped out and towards the center of that never-ending maw. He grunted.

  Guess Ms. Wilson found an avenue of escape as well. This whole circus might have been a debacle, but we will definitely meet again, young lady. We have unfinished business.

  ACT TWO

  CHAPTER EIGHT: BITTER MEDICINE

  AH HOPE SHE kills ya, ya miserable sumabitch, Asta let the thought roll around her head as Aidele unleashed holy hell on Berricks and his soldiers. They had ridden hard for much of the previous several days only to see that bastard general lay waste to the Lester ranch. Had she not had the crew and Drevan to think about, her family, she would have drawn and went down in a blaze of glory. As it was, she was an unwilling participant in Berricks’ murder brigade.

  The trap lain for Aidele had been cunning, and when their focus was solely on her, Asta had taken a chance by holding her own crew back. Let the Union rooks take the fall for their master’s foolishness. And when Aidele began her assault, laying waste to troops, igniting their thermo grenades (even catching one of Asta’s own in a blast regrettably), that was the opportunity to turn tail and haul ass. Nobody noticed her nodding at Drevan, them turning back, or when the Lynch posse rode as hard and as fast as their mounts could carry them.

  Twenty minutes later, they rested on the bluff of a raised plain plateau overlooking the expanse rolling out into the Dustlands. The chaotic revelry of explosions and weapons exchange had long since ceased, but the aftermath could still be seen even miles away. Smoke rose into the reddening atmosphere like a black scar. A stark contrast to the blood red skies. And as she stared, catching her breath and letting her mount rest, she saw a faint silhouette moving across the upper stratosphere as if a shark in the deep sea. Hunting. Only the vaguest of forms. But solid. Small from her point of view, but Asta knew better as she scowled and sighed. Drevan shook his head and grunted.

  “Never gonna end, is it?”

  “Not in our lifetimes…” she replied so low he almost didn’t hear her. “We’re gonna hafta go ta ground. Stay away from any major cities, let alone ports.”

  “We don’ go ta those places much anyhow. ‘Cept fer when visiting Curt and Amelia.”

  “Oh god…” a worry came to her face. “Maybe we should…”

  “Now don’ go gittin’ antsy,” Drevan drew closer to her, their crew hanging back and staring at the rising smoke now far in the distance. “No need ta go panicking them. Not jus’ yet.”

  She glared at him, eyes wide in concern. “The Union’s comin’ back. An’ in force. Ya know it. Ah lost mah daddy ta the blasted war. Ah ain’ losin’ mah children!”

  “If’n it gits ta that, ah’ll go fetch ‘em mahself. But, Asta, let me posit ya this. If’n yer right, an’ this is a taste o’things ta come, where’n ya think we ken hide the Union kent reach?”

  Asta shuddered and looked back. A small silver speck zipped through the sky along the horizon towards the battle they had fled. It lowered down and vanished from sight. She growled and shook her head.

  “Ah hope they all burn in hell.”

  She turned her horse and started off at a gallop. Drevan frowned and followed suit.

  THE BUGGY BOUNCED violently as Durante struggled to maintain control. Dust and sand blasted at him and he could barely see. Beside him, Aidele was covered in the fine particles, a pile of which was on the blanket covering her. He couldn’t see her eyes for the goggled helmet and she wasn’t moving save for the jostling as a result of the bouncing. However, he could hear a slight moaning over the din so he thought that was something.

  He looked back ahead through the wall of blowing sand. It wasn’t p
enetrating his jacket but it still had the force of a wind tunnel trying to push him off course. There was the constant sensation of pelting pebbles thumping against his shoulder and head.

  Thank god for weather gear. Sheesh! Really hope I’m heading in the right direction. He looked at the display console and wiped his hand across the glassy surface to clear off accumulated sand. A blinking indicator light with a box around it was showing a powerful signal coming from straight ahead. After first entering the storm, he’d gone to work checking signal channels for any transmissions. It’d taken twenty scans before finding this signal. And he really hoped it was the research station Aidele had mentioned. If not, well, it might have not only been Aidele’s last stand, but his as well.

  Three hours on and his worry was starting to deepen. If he didn’t get Aidele treatment soon, she was going to die. Of that he had no doubt. She’d already lost too much blood and he dared not slow down to attempt a field wrap.

  That’s when the light started pulsing faster.

  “Yes! Yes!” He gripped the steering wheel tighter and pushed the accelerator down further. It was less than five minutes later that they arrived at a boxy single-story structure with a front door in the center, what looked to be a garage entrance to the left, and one blacked out window to the far right. Durante pulled up to the garage and leapt out. Testing the door, he found it unlocked and easily opened.

  Alright! Second thing to go our way in short order! He rushed back, leapt into the buggy, drove it inside. Then exited and reclosed the garage door. He raced back and saw a door at the far end leading inside. Shelving units lined every wall of the garage and were full of boxes, toolkits, jars, and various other supplies.

  “Wait here. I’m going to check inside.” He unhooked his helmet and pulled it off.

  In the doorway, he stopped and looked back. Aidele made no sound and her head was drooped towards her chest. Temptation urged him to go to her and check her pulse. Urgent need dictated that time was of the essence and so he entered to find a place to lay her down.

  Inside, he found a large dark room. He searched for a light switch and found a panel behind a shelf. Bright light illuminated a cluttered room. Metal shelving was haphazardly standing in every conceivable spot and was filled with a myriad of junk, electrical equipment, and unidentifiable materials.

  “Jesus…”

  There was only one narrow way through the chaos that zigzagged towards computer consoles built into the wall on the far side. To the left of those consoles, was another doorway. He rushed into the next room careful not to knock over the freestanding shelves lest they block his progress. He hoped there would be enough room to carry Aidele through it all. Once there, he found a light panel and triggered it to find a recreational room with a billiards table in the center, two card tables in the back corner, four love seats with a table between their encircled positioning, yet another doorway in the far right corner, and halfway down the rear wall from there, a long couch with a coffee table before it.

  “Perfect.”

  If there was a bedroom, he’d do a more thorough search later. For now, Durante raced back to Aidele and pulled off her helmet. She was growing pale but he found she still had a light pulse. He yanked off the blanket, picked her up (for as much damage the woman could deal out, she was incredibly light), and hurried back to lay her on the couch. Getting through the monitor room’s chaos proved less challenging than he expected.

  “Okay. Hold on, Aidele. It’s only been some thirteen years since field medic training, but I think I can remember enough.”

  He placed a small throw pillow under her head and looked at her. Her clothes were a deepening red. There was no way to know exactly where all her wounds were. He frowned and raced into the connected hallway beyond. He found a kitchen, bathroom, a few sparsely furnished bedrooms, and, at the end of the hall, a med-bay.

  Three for three! Within, he discovered the bay fully stocked. So, he grabbed a metal table, small but wheeled (probably used for emergency tooth extractions), and loaded it and its instrument cups with: sutures, pads, scissors, topical ointments and chemicals, operating instruments, and a syringe’s worth of an antibiotic readily available in an emergency cabinet. He wheeled it all back to Aidele and pushed the coffee table to the side a few feet.

  Durante carefully removed Aidele’s coat and tossed it to the side. Then went about cutting her clothing off to get a look at her wounds. The good news was, the thickness of her coat and clothing had helped staunch the bleeding. The bad news was how much blood she’d already lost. Amazingly, though he’d thought she’d been shot around twenty times, he found only five bullet holes. Two bullets had gone straight through: her left shoulder and upper left bicep. It made it easier on him to clean them out and stitch the wounds up. The other three were in her chest but by some miracle had missed all of her most vital organs. Two of them he dug out the bullet, cleaned out the wound, sutured it up, and wrapped in clean bandaging. The last one had worked its way up and behind her left breast and he didn’t feel confident enough to try and remove that one. So, a cleaning and stitching was all he performed.

  That out of the way, she was still looking very pale, her lips a light pink. Not out of the woods yet. Blood. She needs blood. There were blood bags in the refrigeration unit… He rushed back down the hall thinking about how to set up an IV and saline drip. Wasn’t it type O-negative that was universal? I don’t remember the professor and Mirra’s blood-types, maybe O-positive, but there was a lot of O-negative in the fridge. Gotta take a chance or she’s dead for sure. I just hope there’s enough.

  Desperation drove him to act as quickly as possible. The last thing he wanted was for his mentor’s daughter to die before his eyes after spending so much time keeping his posterior out of the fire. The hours blazed by as he worked nonstop getting the IV started, blood transfusion set up, and a feeding tube for nutrient pastes inserted.

  OVER THE NEXT day-and-a-half he slept very little as he nervously cared for Aidele. To keep his mind fresh and aware, he rummaged for supplies. There was no way of knowing how long they’d be holed up there but he wanted to make sure they had what they needed at hand at all times. In the buggy, he found her huge revolvers and, though not an expert in guns, decided keeping himself occupied by cleaning them couldn’t hurt. He’d always been good at taking apart mechanical items and putting them back together. Most times, the object in question still functioned as well. With her guns, however, he made sure to keep the barrels pointed at the far wall. Losing his face in an accidental discharge he could do without.

  ON THE THIRD day, Aidele started showing signs of improvement. Her color was coming back and she was beginning to breath less jerkily much to his relief. However, she didn’t regain consciousness and instead broke out into a fever, sweating and moaning profusely.

  “Out of the frying pan… Come on, Aidele. I’ve already been pumping you full of antibiotics and pain killers. What? Do you want all the drugs?”

  ON THE FIFTH day, Durante was in the garage cleaning out the buggy and ruminating over the vehicle’s energy reserves. It was down to one quarter charge. There was a charging port nearby, but he wasn’t sure what kind of a drain there would be on the research station. It was likely there would be no issues. However, he didn’t want the electricity going out with Aidele in her current condition.

  Durante leaned back into the driver’s seat. Once she’s better, I can charge it then I think. I’m pretty sure we have enough supplies for—

  “Motherfuckers!” Durante heard a scream and turned his head towards the doorway leading inside.

  Aidele?

  A sonic boom rattled the whole premises and caused him to lurch up and bang his head on the roof of the buggy. He bolted out of the driver’s seat, grabbed the frame to stabilize himself, and listened. His heartbeat was doing an Irish jig in his chest.

  “Fuck you!” Another yell, another boom. And a hole shredded through the port and blew out part of the garage door. The force of the
outside storm created a sudden change in atmospheric pressure.

  “Shit!” Durante howled and raced back inside.

  The cluttered room now had several demolished shelves and the wall separating the rec room from the monitoring room was partially ruptured.

  Another shot rang out and he heard something rupture further back followed by the howling winds of the surrounding funnel. He hurried into the next room and saw Aidele standing on the couch, legs spread widely into a gunslinger’s stance causing her cotton nightgown to be stretched to near ripping. In each hand was wielded one of those lethal revolvers. Her hair was wild and eyes wide in manic delirium.

  “Aidele! It’s alright! We’re safe!” he shouted.

  Approaching slowly, hands raised, he was forced to duck down as she fired two more wild shots screaming in rage. Durante slung himself to the floor and crawled as fast as he could to the overturned medical tray near the couch hoping the syringe with the sedatives wasn’t broken.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he stammered as the reports of the revolvers deafened the room. More and more holes appeared in the ceiling and walls. “Oh, why didn’t I move those after I was done cleaning them!? Asshole! Stop firing, Aidele! You’re going to bring the whole goddamned station down around us!”

  Locating the still in one-piece syringe, Durante waited until her focus was on a far wall staring at a phantom enemy, then leapt up and jabbed the needle into a hip. She let loose a scream and almost immediately went limp. The guns fell from her hands, clomping heavily onto the floor with the sound of iron being dropped onto wood, as she collapsed into his arms. He stepped down to lower her back to the couch.