The Gunfighter and The Gear-Head

by Cassandra Duffy

  The pilot brought out a particularly perverted lust in Fiona. In all her past relationships, she’d been fairly passive in accepting whatever line her partner chose to draw in the sand when it came to kink, but with Gieo, the darkest parts of Fiona’s mind worked all on their own and every thought she had was to push that line a little farther down the beach. Gieo stirred awake, rolled over and smiled to Fiona in the euphoric state achieved only by waking up without an alarm clock.

  “What are you thinking about so intensely?” Gieo asked dreamily.

  “That you seem to activate the kink center of the slutty lobe of my brain,” Fiona said.

  This gathered up every scrap of Gieo’s attention and woke her up in more ways than one. She slithered across the bed closer to Fiona with her eyes sparkling lustily. “You do the same for me, but I need specifics about what you’ve been dreaming up this time,” Gieo said. “Otherwise I won’t be able to keep accurate ledgers and all. It’s a matter of good bookkeeping.”

  Fiona bit her lower lip before she relented; the reticence seemed necessary to convey she was not overly wanton with her fantasies. “In the interest of good bookkeeping then, I was thinking about how sexy it would be to do things to do you while you’re flying—all hooked into the airship harnesses, helpless.”

  “That could be dangerous,” Gieo said. “I love it!”

  “Now all we have to do is steal one of the airships,” Fiona said, adding a suggestive eyebrow waggle.

  “We’ll have to do it soon,” Gieo said. “I’ll be officially grounded next week to give more flight time to the pilots actually flying the assault.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “They should ground McAdams while they’re at it,” Gieo said with a huff. “He’s smart, has forgotten more about aerial combat tactics than I will ever know, and he’s twice the pilot I am even after just a month of training in the airships. He’s like a big, brawny, bearded version of what the Ravens seem to think I am.”

  “So why don’t you tell them all that?”

  “Because then they’d ground him too and we’d both be miserable.” Gieo nudged her way even closer to Fiona until she could idly trace her fingers along the dotted scars left by the shotgun. “Flying is incredible and I can imagine McAdams has been missing it even more than I have. The last time he flew was the war, and it didn’t sound like that went too well.”

  “Let’s talk about something happy then.” Fiona leaned in and gently placed a few hinting kisses along Gieo’s outstretched arm. “Tell me about a recent product of your kinky center in the slutty lobe of your brain.”

  Gieo laughed weakly and smiled. “Anything and everything,” she said. “I came to the conclusion quite awhile ago that I’d be hard pressed to find a limit to what I would do for you or let you do to me. You have a blank check to my body, Red.”

  It had been months since Fiona was last called by that nickname. Something about Gieo accidentally using it as a familiar term set off a different line of thinking in Fiona’s brain that had, to that point over the last month, been largely dormant. Zeke had called her Red when she’d first arrived in Tombstone; it was a nickname she’d had most of her life, but only had meaning among the Ravens. On its own, she could chalk it up to coincidence, but it also reminded her of something Hawkins had said to her right before Claudia had blown his head off—she was the cherished gem of the Ravens’ most feared leader. Now how had Zeke known that when she’d first arrived in Tombstone?

  “No, no, no, no, no,” Gieo said quickly. “Wherever your brain is going, it can wait.” She snuggled in closer to Fiona to kiss her on the neck to no avail. “Seriously, you could put on the strap-on and see how many things in this house you haven’t bent me over yet, or vice-versa, or both!”

  “How did Zeke know who I was when I came to Tombstone?” Fiona asked of no one in particular.

  Gieo groaned and let her face slip down until her cheek rested on Fiona’s chest. “I don’t know,” she grumbled. “I’d claim it doesn’t matter but Cork told me to tell you the other day that he has reason to believe Zeke is operating out of Juarez now.”

  “What?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Fiona squirmed far enough back from Gieo to look her in the eyes. She knew she had that old crazy look she always got that was kind of frightening and chaotic; Gieo had told her about it, and informed her it was one of those things that made her a little scary. Fiona had been trying not to make that face anymore.

  “Let’s see,” Gieo said. “I came home and you were up on a footstool dusting the crown molding wearing those khaki shorts I love. You’d also caught your t-shirt on a nail at some point so I could see your bra—the white lace one with the butterflies. After that I was a little distracted with tearing your clothes off. What does it matter anyway? It’s not like you can waltz into Juarez to find him, and even if you could, what would you do then? You’re the one always saying he’s the only man who could out draw you.”

  “I don’t know,” Fiona mumbled. “Find answers, I guess.”

  “Again with the answers! To what end?!” Gieo hopped up onto her knees on the bed, hands in front of her in a pleading gesture; Fiona was always a little surprised when Gieo demonstrated exactly how agile she was.

  “There’s something about him,” Fiona said. “He’s a survivor in ways that amaze me and he…was actually really nice to me most of the time; you don’t understand how rare that’s been in my life. Most of the time when people were nice to me, they wanted something—he never seemed to. Plus, he went with the army during the fracturing and managed to survive the assault from the crawlers; I don’t think a man like that would be able or willing to let go of something like what happened with Veronica.”

  “Wait, the fracturing?” The phrase sounded familiar to Gieo although she couldn’t immediately place where she’d come by it.

  “Yeah, the big split in the army before the Battle of Mt. Vernon,” Fiona said.

  “Outside Cedar Rapids?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “He was probably a Raven,” Gieo said wearily. “Alondra told me most of her soldiers came from the survivors after the fracture. That must be how he knew about you, knew how the Ravens worked, and knew how to contact them when things got tough. He was probably one of Alondra’s old soldiers who left to run his own life.”

  Fiona flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “I really should just tell you whatever it is I can’t figure out,” she said. “It takes you five seconds to piece together things that stump me for months. Sometimes I feel so stupid around you.”

  Gieo slipped across Fiona’s lap, straddling her waist. She was wearing just pink cotton boy-cut shorts with no top. She’d begun dressing that way for bed when they moved into the new house, stating it was how she was most comfortable; Fiona pointed out most women wore a top with no bottoms, and Gieo pointed out most women didn’t have a peculiar phobia about something crawling inside them while they slept. Gieo assured Fiona she knew how ridiculous such a fear was, but, then again, so were her fears of spiders and zombies. In the morning light, her breasts perky and flatteringly lit by the sun creeping in through the drapes, Fiona had to admit Gieo might be onto something.

  “Yep, you’re just a big moron,” Gieo said. “I keep you around for your looks and willingness to shoot people. You’re like a cardboard cutout of yourself with a gun and trip-line attached.” Fiona had the predictable response of trying to buck Gieo off. Not surprisingly, Gieo was remarkably difficult to unhorse, as it were. Fiona struggled, Gieo’s legs tightened around her, until Fiona had worked herself nearly to the point of biting. “I’m kidding,” Gieo finally said. Her face was flushed from exertion and lit up by a satisfied smile. “You’re the only one who thinks you’re stupid, which, ironically, is kind of stupid.”

  “I’m surrounded by geniuses,” Fiona said angrily. “A little self-doubt is only natural.”

  “You’re surrounded by geniuses in Tombstone?” Gieo asked with a sharp laugh.

/>   “Okay, maybe not Tombstone at large, but between you, Veronica, and Zeke, I’ve had a hard time not feeling stupid.”

  “Come on, bad points of comparison, and considering how many stupid mistakes the three of us routinely make, you probably shouldn’t give us anywhere near as much credit as…” Gieo kind of trailed off. Her hands made their way along Fiona’s chest, pressing the t-shirt Fiona had slept in around the shape of her breasts. “This month of healing time has done some wonderfully healthy things for other parts of you as well. I mean, not Victoria’s Secret cover things yet, but still…”

  “Those were mostly padded pushup bras scientifically designed to create cleavage,” Fiona said.

  “Not in my head they weren’t.” Gieo smiled. “Anyway, my point is, most of the time around you I’m fluctuating wildly between nervous wreck and horny school girl. I loved and idolized you before I ever met you. You feel stupid around me? Imagine how I must feel whenever I’m around you.”

  “This is the less competent version of you?” Fiona asked incredulously.

  “Yep, when you’re not around, I float stuff with my mind.”

  “Then what would you say I’m supposed to do?”

  “You can start by learning to let things go. If Zeke wants to set up shop in Juarez, who cares? If he was a former Raven using what he knew of the organization to survive, who could blame him? There’s no census data on this for obvious reasons, but from what I’ve seen the Slark hit males, soldiers in particular, the hardest; it makes sense that the ones who are still alive are likely good at surviving and lucky as hell.”

  Fiona doubted it would be as simple as all that, but she did like the sound of it. “What do we tell Veronica?”

  “What do we ever tell Veronica? Nothing,” Gieo said. “She’d probably use it as a fresh reason for us to waste our time attacking Juarez when we have a real target in the west. Speaking of the devil, we have a meeting with her and Carolyn this evening.”

  “Why?” Fiona sighed.

  “I made the mistake of mentioning how much better you were feeling. I think they’ve got a commendation or something for you for wiping out the Hawkins House,” Gieo said.

  Fiona made a move to extricate herself from beneath Gieo, but the pilot pushed her back down. Gieo’s face, which to that point had been all smiles and mocking laughter, took a serious shift that set Fiona at attention.

  “All joking aside, you know I think you’re wonderful, right?” Gieo asked. “You’re beautiful, smart, charismatic, good at what you do, and completely fearless—I’d build shrines to you if I didn’t think it’d creep you out. The only real problem you have that seems to be causing you the most misery is that you’re completely unable to let go of things that upset or confuse you.”

  “For you, I’ll work on letting go of the past,” Fiona said. She’d long since gotten used to having people speak of her in glowing terms; Gieo’s compliments, while heartfelt and sweet, weren’t anything Fiona hadn’t heard before. What did stick out to her, and what really made her love Gieo all the more, was the one constructively critical note at the end; it spoke of an honest concern for her well-being that was rare in the rest of her admirers.

  Gieo smiled with such contended warmth that Fiona wanted to frame the moment and hang it on the wall for the colder months to come.

  “We should get dressed and start walking. As much fun as it’d be, I don’t think we should try riding with you on the handlebars of my mountain bike,” Gieo said. “Besides, I owe Ramen a puppy and I heard Jeffers’ mutt had a litter a few weeks ago. Maybe we can see him on the way.”

  “Why don’t you get a horse already?” Fiona asked. “I could teach you to ride.”

  Gieo wrinkled her nose in response with an embarrassed tint of pink rising in her cheeks. She’d fixed up the old mountain bike found in the house’s shed specifically so she could avoid having to ever use a horse; when people asked, she’d claimed it was closer to riding the modified Indian motorcycle she’d become synonymous with, but the real answer was far more provincial.

  “I’m afraid of horses,” Gieo said.

  “If I’m going to work on letting things go, you’re going to need to work on the list of things you’re afraid of.”

  “Fine,” Gieo said, “I’ll consider taking riding lessons.”

  “I was thinking you could start sleeping completely nude, but that works too.”

  “Like my underwear has ever been an obstacle for you.” Gieo writhed a little on top of Fiona, rolling her hips lewdly against her, knowing full-well what affect the warmth of her skin and the pressure down on Fiona’s most sensitive areas would have.

  “If we’re walking, we should get started now,” Fiona said, adding an impish grin, “but you’re in big trouble later.”

  Chapter 26: No times like old times.

  The walk was longer than Fiona expected, although not longer than she should have, considering Gieo rode her bike every day. By the time they reached the heart of what could be considered the population, her leg was stiff and a little achy. She assumed the injury could stand some exercise to fully heal, but she still told Gieo with increasing frequency that they might need to find a ride back. Gieo, for her part, replied with the always-declined offer to go find someone to give them a ride while Fiona rested.

  The day was cool enough not to raise a sweat on Gieo while they walked, but Fiona had a sheen from painful exertion by the time they strolled up to the Ravens’ compound. Fiona had strapped on her gun, but she hadn’t really felt the twinge of nervous energy she might have even a few months ago when the Ravens were still new to Tombstone. The town had clearly changed for the better under their rule even if it did so to the detriment of a few select citizens, Fiona among those who had to give up some personal liberties for the stability of all.

  Toward the end of the walk when the patrols of Raven soldiers increased, Gieo took Fiona’s hand in hers. As strange as the intimate gesture felt at first, Fiona did not pull away. It was her left hand, which probably explained why Gieo practically insisted upon walking on her left side. It wouldn’t hinder her draw should she need her gun, and so Fiona let the familiarity stand for the moment. As they walked through the gates of the Raven compound, Gieo released her hand unceremoniously.

  They were shown into Veronica’s office on the second floor. A refreshing breeze blew in through an open window occasionally ruffling, but not displacing, paperwork on the desk. Fiona didn’t know for certain if the paperwork was a holdover from the desk’s likely long deceased owner or something belonging to Veronica. Paper was far rarer and more valuable than it likely had been since the Middle Ages. If there were still paper suppliers somewhere, Veronica would be the one to know how to be supplied by them.

  Veronica stood in the corner with her back to the door, looking down out the window over the opium and marijuana fields in the back of the converted courthouse. Opium, which grew readily in the desert, was uncovered while the marijuana had protective netting and a network of irrigation tubing running above it. She was dressed in the gray and black military fatigues of the Ravens with her pistol slung on her left hip.

  “When Carolyn gets here, we can start handing out the bad news,” Veronica said. She turned her head slowly, the afternoon light catching her features, making her look both tragically beautiful and achingly sad.

  “Like Christmas, I would imagine.” Fiona sat down at one of the chairs, stretching her right leg out in front of her to rub the sore muscles of her upper thigh around her freshly-healed bullet wounds.

  “Yep,” Veronica said, “we’re all going to get something.”

  Gieo felt a little adrift in the strange familiarity between the two women. She’d spent a considerable amount of time with Veronica over the past few months, but she hadn’t developed anywhere near the rapport that Fiona and Veronica seemed to have implicitly.

  Gieo and Veronica remained standing when Carolyn arrived. Her matronly curves were poured into a similar uniform to Veronica
’s although, while it looked fairly dashing on the lither White Queen, the uniform looked almost pornographic on the curvaceous Red Queen. Carolyn navigated the office as though she owned the room, building, and state in which it was all contained. She took no notice of the three inhabitants on her arrival, cutting a straight course to the leather executive chair behind Veronica’s desk. She sat calmly and finally acknowledged those assembled.