GunBarrel Gauntlet: The Last Bronze II

15. The Tomb of Blue Tattoo

Injured from the engagement with the horde, Audrey limped to a stop as the trails of the remaining Dog Soldiers fled back toward their home in the north, avoiding both the truck and the lone rider whom had watched them depart from the saddle of the black Enforcer.

Far behind the crew from Sanctuary, something stirred inside the twisted remains of the Scorpion Trike, a bloodied hand trembling in shock as it unsuccessfully reached out to a pistol on the ground. Then a voice wailed, bitter with pain like a starving dog overwhelmed with the scent of a meal it could not taste, taken away by the flies and lesser vermin before its eyes.

Blue Tattoo panted on his side with broken ribs, growling at the noise of the Corolla manifesting out of the smoke and debris until it's rolling front tire settled metres away, cutting off his view of the open skyline with the sedan's undercarriage. The treble whir of a cycle engine came not long after.

Doors creaked open, clapped shut, then the short midday shadows of many boots circled the dented roll cage.

"Elvis above! He's still breathin'..."

The irritating squeak of Socky's voice enraged him, howling again as his body shook.

The Nomad's gloved hand picked up the .38 revolver that had been teasing his reach outside the cage.

"Iiiyaaagh, you dogmeat son of a bitch! You're all dead! Not a single last one of ya will be left with your skin on when Hercules comes lookin' for ya!" The marauder chief squinted up with his swollen purple face. "And you! Lion! He's gunna hang ya by the scrotum for a punchin' bag until ya beg him with all your tears for the rubber necklace!" Blue snapped his teeth to emphasize the threat.

Rocking the hammer back with his leather thumb, the Nomad directed the .38's barrel toward the marauder's head.

"Go on!" Blue Tattoo hissed. "Pull the trigga!"

'You're the last officer I got left De Bono; you're the last bronze...' a voice of authority resounded within the sea of memories inside the Nomad's mind '..."Maintain Right", that's our motto; don't forget that when you're out there on the roads.'

"Waste of a good bullet." Releasing the cocked hammer back into place, the Nomad lowered his hand.

"What'll we do about 'im?" Tiny asked.

"Nothin'; He'll be dead by sundown. Collect anything useful from the other wrecks, then we get out of here before his mates come back."

* * *

"Thankyou." Carrion nodded once after the rider of the Enforcer had parked beside the truck, returning with the others from the scavenge.

"Water." He answered brusquely. "I need water."

Giving him a cold glance, Carrion opened the driver's side door and actuated the latch to release the chair seat, lifting the cushion away to retrieve the hidden water jugs.

"What did you find out there?" She asked those that had returned, measuring a cupful to pay the Nomad for his efforts as she spoke.

"Arrows, some bows, jumper cables..." Tiny scratched the back of his head. "Could'a dragged back some heavier panels an' tyres but this one" –he pointed at the Nomad-" said it wasn't safe to hang about any longer."