Page 68 of Gunslinger Girl
Draw. Shoot. Reload.
Sweat beaded her forehead as she lost herself in the rhythm, pushing until everything beyond the boundary of the arena was nullified. Here, there were only two things: the target and the shot.
“Again!” She reached into her ammo pouch. Empty. “Dammit!”
Widmer popped through one of the hatches in the floor. “Don’t you think that’s enough for today?”
“No! I just need to get some more bullets.”
He cleared his throat and pointed at her leg. A line of blood had appeared, pasting the fabric to her wound.
“I’ll change the bandage, then—”
“The generators need a rest. And so do you.”
Pity wanted to argue, but his tone left no room for negotiation. By the time she returned to her room to clean up, the small measure of solace she’d gained was already gone. Ruminations floated about her mind like rotten apples in a pond. Any effort to keep them submerged was useless. Push one or two down and another bobbed to the surface.
The men she killed.
The ones she didn’t.
The bounty hunter.
Max.
With every moment she spent alone, the thoughts thickened, pressing in on her from all angles. She put on fresh clothes, wanting nothing more than to return to the arena and lose herself again. Instead, she went to the Gallery, only to find it nearly empty, collateral damage from the strife just beginning to recede in the city.
She did a quick scan of the room—no Max. Something in her ached. She hadn’t seen him since the day of the attack. But she no longer needed his guidance around Casimir. After saving Selene, its residents now treated her as if she had been around for years, not weeks, and it was a good feeling, one that filled the void left by Max’s absence.
Or at least that’s what she tried to tell herself.
“Pity, thank goodness!” Luster waved at her from the deserted bar. “Relieve this horrid boredom, please.”
She limped over and settled herself on a stool, stiffening as she spotted Siena Bond at the end of the bar.
“You okay?” said Garland. “You look like a cat that’s been rubbed the wrong way.”
Pity dropped her gaze from the bounty hunter. “It’s been a long few days.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Flossie flounced over, lips pursed with annoyance. “You’d think someone had spread a rumor that we’re out of champagne.” She set her hands on her hips. “It’s a good thing Daneko is gone, because I’d kill him myself for the amount of bad business he’s caused us.”
“They’ll be back,” Garland reassured her. “They never stay away for long.”
“I know. But they won’t be back tonight. If y’all don’t want to hang around, don’t bother.” She stalked off.
“Well,” said Luster. “That’s that. What are we doing for the rest of the night?”
“Whatever it is, can we do it somewhere else?” Pity’s skin crawled, as if someone were holding a knife a hairsbreadth away from it. Was Siena Bond watching her? Or was her attention on the half empty bottle keeping her company? In the dim light, it was impossible to tell.
Then again, maybe the bounty hunter had the right idea. Pity glanced around for Olivia, then reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of bourbon. If she couldn’t shoot her troubles away, maybe she could drown them for a while. “And can we start with this?”
They quit the Gallery in favor of Garland’s room. Larger than Pity’s, the sprawling bed was big enough for all three of them to stretch out on. As Luster flipped through the broadcast channels, searching for a film to watch, Garland slipped on a faded old shirt, torn along one hem.
Settled in the center of the bed, Pity smirked into her glass.
“What?” he said.
“It’s just funny. You come back to your room to unwind and put on more clothes.”
