Gas Mask Girls Issue #2

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Issue #2

As a group, the creatures rushed forward. The instant change from shuddering sleepwalker to violent predator was disconcerting. Many had been paralyzed by that change, falling victim to the monster. Not Gamble, she has seen it too many times, she was prepared. She waited, regaining her inner calm after Doze’s distraction. Just as the first attacker reached out to grab her she sprang, moving diagonally to the creature. Her movement was fluid and practiced. “Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.” How often had she heard that from her sensei while practicing for the tournaments? Little had she known then how the hours of sweat and practice would save her life in this new, twisted world.

Gamble brought the bat down in a powerful blow to the mutant's head, pulling the bat back, nails catching flesh. She knew it was a stupid move with a bat. A katana….now that would cut. Pulling back with the bat was pointless, but old habits died hard. Despite the inefficient move, the blow was effective, and the skull shattered, the damage was enough to drop the dancer. Another, behind the first, sprang forward but Gamble continued her pivot sliding back and bringing her bat up in a vicious strike that caught the attacker under the chin. The distinct crack of jaws coming loose echoed and the creature reeled backward from the blow. It wouldn’t be down, but it would be distracted.

Dancers weren’t some kind of undead zombies despite their appearance. They just didn’t react to pain. Physical damage that would cause a normal person to curl up in a fetal position wouldn’t stop a dancer on the hunt. She had seen many of the creatures take horrific damage and continue to attack, bringing down their prey to feast, only to succumb later to the injuries. Infections and blood loss would all still take them out, just way, way too slow for Gamble’s need. She wanted to be around after they finally fell.

A shot rang out and Gamble heard something fall behind her. “Stupid, Stupid” she muttered. She had lost track of one of her attackers. It was a mistake that could kill her. But that’s what Doze was for, right? Bullets were too expensive to waste when Gamble’s bat would work, so Doze stayed back, taking out any threats that flanked Gamble or got too close. She was a surgeon with her trusted pistols. Every shot, cool, calculated, and every one a headshot. So different from the fiery nature of her usual character. Combat did that to Doze, she went quiet, cold, but oh so deadly.

Gamble sprang forward swinging her bat low, catching her third target in the knees. The sound of the bone breaking even made her wince. People were always shocked at how much power she could put into her blow. Her compact frame belied great strength honed by countless hours of practice. The creature was down, it wasn’t going to die from that wound, but Gamble could finish it off later. She kept moving, approaching the creature whose jaw she had dislocated. Elegance gave way to brute strength as she slammed the point of the bat into the creature's stomach. The strike, powered by her forward momentum caused the target to double over and Gamble quickly brought the bat down on the back of its head. Another shot rang out as Doze removed a dancer who had left the pack and attempted to go for Doze directly.

“Two more,” Gamble thought. They were closing in on her quickly, but she wasn’t worried about two dancers. She slid between them striking low on one, causing it to fall into its companion. Both went down and Gamble wasted no time in finishing them off. Two more cracks rang out in the clearing and now only one dancer remained, the one she had taken out at the knees. She took a moment to breathe, her heart racing. The combat had lasted seconds, but it felt like she had been running for several minutes. Combat was always like that. She stepped up to the last creature. It slowly dragged itself toward her. Despite all the damage, it was still fixated on its intended prey. “Not today,” she muttered as she kicked it hard with her steel-toed boots. The kick gave her room for a swing and she brought the bat down one last time. The silence was deafening.

“Well,” commented Doze, “that went smoothly.”

Gamble bent forward, resting one hand on her knee, the other on the bloody bat. As always the post-fight jitters hit her hard. She was calm before, she was calm during, it was after when it always hit her. She felt nauseous as she broke out into a cold sweat. “Don’t puke in the mask. DO NOT puke in the mask.” It had become her post-battle mantra. Slowly her heart stopped racing, her breathing became easier.

“You going to be okay?” Doze asked. She had seen this dozens of times, but it still was never fun to watch Gamble recover.

“Yeah,…just a…minute” Gamble breathed heavily. “We got lucky,” she added. “When was the last time we faced a pack so small?”

“Speaking of which,” Doze replied, failing to answer the question, “we really should be heading out. We made a lot of noise. Better safe than sorry.”

“Sure…give me a second.” While Doze waited for her friend to recover, she occupied herself with the distasteful task of looting the corpses. There was a small chance the corpses might actually have something worthwhile on them. Small, but not a zero. Beggars could not afford to be choosers in the apocalypse. Doze gave thanks for the mask clamped tightly around her head. There were definitely benefits other than just avoiding Captain Yellow. She knew the stench would be overwhelming had she not had her protection.

“Anything?” Gamble finally managed to ask.

“No, “ answered Doze. “Not unless you fancy some nasty-looking breath mints.” She threw the corroded roll of candies away. “Well that was a bust,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you. Next time I’ll pick a pack of dancers that are loaded with food.”

“Pick a pack of dancers?” Doze mused. “Try saying that five times fast!”

“Weren’t you saying we should head out…to avoid any further tongue twists?”

Doze laughed as she grabbed her backpack and strapped it on. “Okay, just trying to lighten the mood.”

Gamble returned to the rusted wreck to pick up her pack and shouldered it as Doze headed off into the clearing, her long legs creating a pace Gamble knew would be hard for her to match. “I get we want some distance between us and any further fun…but we still have no idea where to go next. The trail ended in Reno. We have no idea where they have gone now. What’s the hurry?”

“I like to walk fast,” Doze called over her shoulder.

“You like to see me struggle to keep up!” Gamble accused.

“That too!” Doze laughed, slower her pace just a little.

Gamble jogged to catch up, then settled into a comfortable pace walking alongside her friend. “So, “ she continued, “Reno was a bust. I know you were sure we’d catch them in Reno. But it didn’t happen. We have no clue where they are headed. Seriously, what now?”

“They had to go somewhere. Southwest seems as good as any other direction. I’m betting on Sacramento. It’s big, you can get lost there.”

“You can get killed there too,” Gamble commented. “Not to mention a settlement that big has to be crawling with dancers on the outside. How are we going to get through? And I’ve heard the Warlord of Sacramento charges a hefty toll to enter her city. Not to mention the distance it’s at least…”

Doze stopped and rounded on her companion, Gamble stumbled to avoid running into her. “Gamble, I don’t know! You’re right. We lost the trail in Reno. For the first time in 6 months, I have no leads. Do we just give up? I can’t do that. Southwest is as good as anything else. Sacramento is as good as anything, it’s closer than anything else I can think of and Vegas is not even an option. Not even Akuto would be crazy enough to try for Vegas!”

Gamble could see her friend’s distress. The desperation during months of searching had taken its toll. “Okay, you’re right. It’s a good supply stop if nothing else. If we are lucky we may spot a caravan we can join with. Safety in numbers, and all that.”

Doze just grunted as she turned and resumed her pace, perhaps a bit faster than before. Gamble kept up, not complaining. The late day passed quickly and they had traveled several miles before they decided to find camp for the night. Gamble began to make a fire in a small alcove of a boulder, the recessed space shielding the light from most directions. “It’s a risk,” she said in anticipation of Doze’s objections. “But it’s a small one. It’s not visible at all from where we came. I’ll keep the fire small. We need a hot meal for a change.”

Doze nodded her assent, and Gamble continued her work. Several minutes later they sat staring at the small flames as their meager meal warmed in its embrace. The dance of the fire mesmerized them both and Gamble felt the stresses of the day melt away as her muscles relaxed and she allowed her mind to wander.

They had finished their meal and were bedding down for the night, as a small pebble came flying into the small clearing they had chosen for their makeshift camp. It clattered off the boulder, loud in the quiet night of the forest. Gamble cursed her lack of vigilance as she grabbed her bat and lept to her feet. Doze had her pistols out and pointing in the general direction of the errant stone before Gamble had fully risen. “Who…” Gamble started to question when a male voice interrupted her.

“We come in peace, we aren’t a threat,” the voice said. “We threw the rock just to alert you…figured it was the safest way, what with no doorbells….” The voice trailed off, the fear and uncertainty of the speaker clear to Gamble.

“Come out slowly,” Doze called out, her guns pointing steadily in the direction of the voice. Her hands didn’t shake, not even slightly.

“Please, “ came a feminine voice. “We have nothing. We are no threat.” The trees in front of Doze's steady gaze rustled as a man, woman, and three children stepped out. They presented a pitiful image to the wary campers, clothes dirty and worn, masks that look barely sufficient for protection. They carried no visible weapons and no packs for supplies. The man had a small bag looped over his shoulder and resting on his hip, but even that looked pitifully empty.

“Please,” the woman said again as she stepped forward, her hands raised in supplication. “We need help, we need help badly.”

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