Page 13 of Gunslinger Girl
“She was dead,” said Olivia.
“You just left her there!” Pity shot up again, oblivious to her injuries, only to have Max push her back down.
“We had to,” he pressed. “It was dangerous to linger, and you were hurt.”
She shoved him away, searching for something to say but finding nothing.
Too late. A scream built in her chest, unable to go anywhere. She was right there, and you just watched them—
The thought refused to finish.
“It’s not all bad,” Olivia said. “These survived.” Pity looked over to see her dangling the gun belt in one hand and brandishing a revolver in the other. “They’re awfully nice.”
Pity’s cheeks burned with anger. “Those are mine! Give them to me!”
“Not a chance.” Olivia stashed the weapons in a cabinet above her head. When she closed it, the touch pad flashed red. Locked.
“They belong to me.”
“And I say they’re good payment for saving your life.”
She glared at Olivia, who glared right back and let a hand fall to her side. Strapped to her hip was a leather whip, coiled in a tight circle. Pity recalled the pain from before and looked at her wrist. Ringing it was a wide bruise.
Max sighed. “Olivia, please…”
“We don’t know her from Adam, Max. And she tried to kill you.”
“I didn’t—” Pity began, but the vehicle’s vibrations suddenly tapered off and ceased.
A moment later a door opened at the front of the compartment. A massive, densely muscled man ducked through it, carrying a rifle.
“My turn to drive?” said Olivia.
He shook his bald, round head. Other than a thin strip of dark hair on his chin, he was clean-shaven. “Time to swap out the fuel cell. How’s our guest?”
Olivia swatted a hand. “She’s fine.”
“Is that true, miss?” His voice was deep but smooth.
Pity grimaced. “No.”
“Of course not.” When he approached the bed and reached out a huge, flat hand, she eyed it warily but shook it. “Santino Quintano,” he said. “Santino, por favor. And you are?”
“We hadn’t gotten there yet,” said Max.
“Serendipity.” Her voice was as hollow as an old bone. “Jones. Everyone calls me Pity.”
“Pity,” Santino continued, “you were very lucky today. We can drop you at the next outpost or commune we pass. They will have real medical facilities and—”
“No!” she cried. “I mean, I can’t…” She hesitated, thoughts tangling. Finn… her guns… The pounding in her head intensified. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. When she looked up again, everyone was staring at her.
“Hmm.” Santino tipped his head. “Judging by your clothes, I’d guess you’re off a commune?”
She nodded.
“And where were you headed?”
“East.”
