Page 2 of Gunslinger Girl
The old ache rose within her, the anger and frustration at her exclusion from the commune’s defensive forces. She’d inherited her mother’s eye and skill with a gun. But as mayor, Lester Kim made the labor appointments, and Lester listened to her father so much that people joked about who really ran the commune.
At least riding escort keeps him gone half the time.
Hale caught wind of her thoughts. “Come down to the range when he’s gone. It’d be irresponsible not to test these out before distributing them, right?”
A smile found her lips. Hale had been her mother’s friend once, and he had no qualms about letting her practice shooting when her father was gone. At least she’d been able to keep her ability from withering away.
“Don’t look around,” Hale said abruptly, keeping his voice conversational. “Your father is coming this way. Go on, before he gets any closer. If he asks why we were chatting, tell him I was passing along your brothers’ range scores.”
She couldn’t resist. “Are they any better?”
“Well, they can hit a barn… provided it don’t move too quick.”
Pity swallowed a chuckle and ran off, leaving the fuss of the convoy behind for a cluster of squat administration buildings. Beyond them lay the commissary shops and, finally, the neat grids of worker homes. The identical rust-colored structures were mostly deserted, their residents still at work in the fields or barns, but a lanky arm waved from the porch of one.
“Pity! Thank goodness. Save me!”
As Pity angled over, arguing voices drifted out from within the house. “What’s going on?”
Finn glanced over her slumped shoulder. “Well, so far as I can tell, Rena Harrow is pregnant.” Pity’s best friend ran a hand through her cropped wheat-hued hair; an untidy nest of dirt, oil, and whatever else had been dripping on her that day. “And her mother is none too happy about losing her first grandchild, so she’s trying to get Rena to fess up and marry its daddy before she’s whisked away to a mothers’ home for nine months of luxury incubation.”
Pity winced as somewhere inside the house a door slammed so hard that the windows shook. Despite the values preached, CONA didn’t try to stop people from doing what they were going to do—not with birthrates still so low, a lingering remnant of the bioterrorism years that had preceded the Second Civil War. But children born out of wedlock were considered wards of the government and adopted out to couples who couldn’t conceive in the natural way.
“I’m guessing Rena isn’t too happy about planning a wedding?”
Finn shook her head. “Which is no business of mine”—she nudged the bag of tools beside her—“’cept that the block’s generator is belly-up again, and I need to check each house to see if they’re over-drawing power. I’ve been sitting out here for an hour, waiting for those two to cool down.”
“The generator’s down again?” Pity grimaced. “This is the third time this month!”
“Well, all I can do is keep patching it up until I get the right parts. Oh, geez, you just got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one where your face scrunches up and your cheeks go so red I can barely see all those freckles.”
Pity tried to smile but her mouth turned down instead. “I can make do with cold water to wash, but he’s not going to be too happy about bathing in it.”
Finn’s expression curdled as she spotted the pack, only to brighten an instant later. “Wait, the convoy’s back?” She jumped up. “C’mon!”
“Where?” Pity stayed put. “I need to get home before—”
“The belts I ordered come in with this convoy! I can finally finish the Ranger!”
Excitement flickered within Pity. The Ranger was Finn’s baby, her mechanical firstborn. It had started as an old frame for a plains buggy, scavenged out of the junk pile, but since finding it, Finn had begged, traded, and scrounged for every wheel, clamp, hose, and gear. It would never win a prize for looks, but her friend swore it would be faster than a jackrabbit when she was done with it.
“And with the Ranger ready to go”—Finn leaned in closer, whispering—“we can finally start making real plans to—”
“Standing around when you should be working, squirt?”
They both started at the new voice. Two long shadows approached, attached to Pity’s brothers.
“Yeah, squirt,” Billy parroted. “Dinner ready yet?”
Pity frowned. “You’re early.”
“Outgoing crop shipment needed to be loaded up by tomorrow, so they called all the crews in.” Henry adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder and eyed the pack. “You seen Daddy?”
She nodded.
