Gas Mask Girls Issue 11

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As Doze prepared for departure, Gamble finally got Jay to explain what had happened with the raiders and the battle for the settlement. As with many things in life, the answer was surprisingly mundane. It appeared Jay had hit the leader, Bloodstorm, during the opening volley. “A lucky shot,” he had dismissed it modestly. The raiders had persisted in the attack, but it had quickly become less coordinated as the battle ensued. 

The most devastating blow to the compound had been the bus attack, breaking through the gates and loosing the Dancers in the compound. The raiders had clearly counted on that event to break the settlement's will. Perhaps it had served them well in the past, but these defenders were made of sterner stuff and had remained at their posts, well-drilled and trained by Michael. 

The Raiders, now leaderless had debated whether to storm the walls or stay in a long-distance firefight. Uncoordinated, some rushed forward while others held back. It had proven their downfall. After several more casualties, the remaining group broke and fled. No one was sure if they would regroup and try again later, or if they were gone for good. Jay had sent a party out to scout and claim any supplies they could find. They were due back soon.

“Can’t you stay for a little bit?” Jay asked for the third time as he trailed after Gamble. “Those raiders may be coming back. This may just be a reprieve. We could really use your help.” Jay was clearly feeling the stress of leadership in Michael’s absence.

“I doubt it, Doze is pretty hell-bent on heading out to Vegas,” Gamble replied.

“But Vegas is a death trap. There are so many Dancers in that area. No one is left alive down there. Everyone knows it. You guys will be heading to certain death!”

“I don’t think Doze cares, and where Doze goes, I go. It’s that simple.”

“What about ammo?” Jay called out, he had stopped walking and the distance between them was widening.

“What?” Gamble came to a stop and turned around.

“I know Doze used up a lot of ammo in that attack, maybe all?” He was fishing, but Gamble’s lack of response seemed to verify his guess. 

“Stay with us for a week, we’ll give you food and sixty...” he hesitated, deciding to sweeten the pot. “Make that 80 rounds of ammo, and medicine for your wounds!” He looked a bit sheepish as Gamble remembered her wounds looking at the blood on her clothes. The pain suddenly returned, and Gamble stumbled.

“Ah, man….I'm sorry, we’re giving you medicine no matter what,” Jay said. “You got those wounds defending us. I’m sorry, I’m just…I’m scared, Michael made this look so easy. I don’t-” Jay trailed off, realizing he was babbling.

“But ammo, ammo is expensive. We’ll pay you back what you used for us, but we’ll give you extra to stay.”

Wordlessly, Gamble went in search of Doze. She found her checking her backs, adjusting the load in anticipation of a hasty departure.

“Doze, wait a sec. They are offering-” Gamble began.

“Supplies to stay and help fend off any leftover raiders that get a notion to come back and try again,” Doze curtly interrupted Gamble. “Gamble, we don’t have time. We don’t have any time to waste.”

“Doze, we need ammo, supplies.”

“We’ll find it on the road,” Doze answered, not slowing her preparations. “We always have before.”

“Maybe, but Doze, I think, I think I need a break. I almost died…I need some rest.”

Doze looked up, taking in Gamble's bloody and bruised form. She hesitated only a second, then shook her head. “We’ll stay 4 days, 60 rounds of ammo, and two weeks of food, plus any medicine Gamble needs,” she called out. Gamble realized with surprise that Jay had come up behind her. 

“Done!” he quickly said. “And we’d help Gamble no matter what. We’re not heartless,” he added defensively.

Doze dropped her pack. “Gamble get to the doctor. Jay, show me where these raiders were at. Let’s see what they left behind.” Gamble smiled at Doze's quick change, so typical of her once she made up her mind.

..

The doctor tutted and muttered under her breath as she examined Gambles's wounds. “You should have come to me sooner,” she complained. “We’re low on antibiotics, but I don’t like the look of these cuts, they got dirty and are already showing signs of infection.”

Gamble's eyes went wide and her body jerked reflexively. Even with the mask covering her face, the doctor could see her fear.

“Oh relax,” she said cleaning the cuts and wiping away the crusted blood. “Dancers don’t pass on Captain Yellow through bites, it’s in the air. We’re all getting slowly infected, their bites are no more dangerous than any predator's bites. Well, carrion eaters would be more accurate I guess.”

“I know that,” Gamble replied defensively. “I just, well I’ve never got bit before.”

“And it’s easy to fall back on some kind of zombie lore,” the doctor said, shaking her head. “I know, it’s instinctual. But the only danger here is good old fashion infection. Which can still kill you!” She added seeing Gamble relax. “But we still have some antibiotics, I’ll give you a bottle. Take them all.” Gamble nodded, wincing at the pain of the not-so-gentle ministrations of the doctor.

“Can’t do much for the bruises,” the doc continued. “They’ll fade over time. I expect you're used to bruises judging from these other scars. You girls should stay here with us. We could use you.”

Gamble shook her head, “Doze will never allow it, now while her sister is out there.” The doctor just sighed, a paragraph of imprecations in that release of breath.

..

In the end, the four days passed quietly. No raiders returned. Gamble’s body healed quickly thanks to the rest and antibiotics. By day four the bruises were mostly faded and she had to admit she was itching to hit the road. She often pretended that it was Doze’s mission that kept them wandering from place to place, but the truth was she had a wandering soul. She had always known it, and even without their quest to find Saira, Doze knew she’d rather be traveling rather than building a community. It was just in her blood.

Doze was ready of course. She had helped Jay organize things over the last four days. Her strong personality and organizational mind made her a natural leader and Jay was happy for the help. Michael remained in a coma, the doctor not optimistic about his chances. Jay worried for the future and had spent the four days begging the two travelers to stay. But Doze’s resolution was firm and unshakeable. They were heading to Vegas to find her sister.

The morning was cold, but clear as they headed out from the settlement. Gamble paused at the top of the hill, looking back down at the mining facility and the people below. The damage to the walls had been repaired, the bus had been repositioned to act as a new entrance to the compound. It served well as a natural bottleneck. It would be very hard for anyone, Dancer or Raider to get through quickly. Gamble nodded approvingly as she looked at the repaired barricade.

“They’ll be okay,” she said, assuring herself. “They don’t really need us.”

Doze just gave a quick laugh, not cruel, but resigned. “They need us, but we got things to do.”

“What are we going to do?” Gamble asked, so many other questions implied in that one question.

“Finish it,” Doze said in her typical curt fashion, turning away from the settlement and heading down the hill. “One way or another, we’re going to finish it.”

END OF PART 1! 

The gas mask girls will return in the future! In the meantime, please enjoy an exclusive sneak peek of our next series, The Grand Adventures of the Plucky Paws Guild!

Melodus Wyndsong sat in his usual corner of The Dancing Ferret, his nimble fingers deftly picking out a sad melody, simultaneously strumming accompanying chords. His furry hands were sure and true, the sound of two lutes emerging from his single instrument. Melodus nodded in satisfaction, this was his specialty. Featherwing herself had praised him for this skill when she had awarded him the Golden Apple last year at the Bardic Convocation. 

He knew he cut a suave figure, lazily reclining by the warm fire. His feet rested casually on the hearth, his brown, well-oiled leather boots rising to his thigh. Tonight he wore his favorite feathered hat, rakishly perched on his head at an angle. His rich blue velvet vest was a perfect complement to the creamy white silk of his shirt. Yes, he looked every inch the successful bard that he was. The innkeeper, Celdric, nodded to him as he passed by, dropping off another mug of his mulled wine.

Bless that old badger, Melodus thought, raising the mug in his right hand in salute to the elderly innkeeper, his left hand never missing a note as it plucked the tune. Melodus took a long draught, savoring the delicious warmth. Yes, Celdric certainly kept a fine larder and an even finer wine cellar. 

His fingers continued dancing across the dark mahogany of his lute, the golden filigree twinkly in the candlelight. True, it was a small crowd tonight, but Melodus prided himself in always putting on the best show for his audience no matter the size, no matter the social standing. He gazed around the room, taking in his fellow guests. A few merchant lizards in from Green Swamp for trade occupied a table nearby, they nodded approvingly at Melodus’ haunting song while enjoying their evening meal. 

A couple of fellow raccoons sat across at another table, playing cards. The leaner fellow was clearly coming off poorly, his frustration evident as his companion repeatedly one hand after hand. “How about something more joyful!” he called out in anger towards Melodus. “How can a raccoon possibly concentrate on cards with such a melancholy tune playing!”

“It does not seem to be disturbing your friend, “ Melodus answered with a warm smile. “She seems to doing quite well with my song. Perhaps you should look elsewhere for your lack of success…your skill perhaps?” he added with a wink towards his accuser.

The raccoon looked about to reply, then thought better of getting in a verbal joust with a minstrel. Instead, he dismissed the bard with a wave of frustration, crying out in dismay as his fellow player took another hand from him. 

Melodus continued playing, his tune. “The Loss of Lady Fairywood” was building to its stirring conclusion. It truly was a morose lament, even sadder with the lyrics, but Melodus was saving his voice. He would need it before this night was over. Yes, his sliver tongue would serve him well! He would need all of his cunning and skill to pull off tonight's audacious gamble!

But then what was life, but a gamble? The bold and daring taking wins and loss in stride betting their lives on the grand game. The cautious and fearful holding back for fear of loss, and that is why they would accomplish so little. And while he…he would do great things! Oh yes! Tonight would be a night to remember.

He spotted his first target entering the smoky inn. Reginald Brightblade was unmistakable, easily the largest raccoon Melodus had ever seen. His heavy, woolen blue cloak trailed behind him, the flames of the hearth dancing off his polished breastplate and twinkling off burnished chainmail. His trusted sword, Sablebane, hung at his side, a heavy shield carried effortlessly in his left hand. Yes, quite the figure. Reginald would be easy to convince. Melodus’ venture was just the type of thing the warrior loved. Bold, daring, a bit foolhardy. Yes, Reginald would be the first to agree to this quest, if Melodus’ hunch served him well.

And when had it not served him well? He finished his recital, a dramatic E minor chord ringing throughout the common room. Ah the E minor, Melodus loved the chord, so much drama, so much mystery. He stood up, adjusting his vest as he headed over to Brightblade’s table. Yes, tonight would be a night to remember!