FOUND YOU
He looked out at the desert, wiping sweat from his brow. He had to squint to stop the sun blinding him.
"You're a hard man to find, Jet," a strange voice yelled from behind him. He turned with a start. Sitting atop a rusted old vehicle which was beginning to be buried by wind-borne sand was a wiry young girl with wild hair dyed four different colors. She was dressed in beaten bell-bottom jeans, a ratty old vest covered in belts and holsters and adorned with countless tools over a sleeveless white shirt.
He looked at the stranger suspiciously.
"How do you know my name?" he asked carefully. The girl had a bizarre expression on her face, somewhere in between excitement and hatred.
"I know a lot more than just your name, Jet," she said, practically spitting his name. Who is this psycho? he asked himself, perplexed.
"I have been looking for you for two years," the stranger said, laughing a bit and pointing a wagging finger.
"And why've you been doing that?" Jet asked carefully.
"I want to ask you for a job," the stranger said flatly, jumping down from atop the wreck. Jet couldn't hide his perplexity.
"You've been looking for me for two years to ask me for a job?" he said, disbelieving. The stranger answered with a simple "yeah." He tried for another moment to fit this through his head, to decide what this psycho wanted.
"What sort of a job would you be looking for?" he asked finally, deciding to play along.
"What do you need?" the stranger responded pleasantly. Jet didn't answer. "Mechanic, cook, someone else fancy with a gun?" the stranger continued to inquire. Jet looked at the stranger seriously.
"Let's suppose I don't need anything," he said. The stranger looked at him confidently.
"I don't know about that," she said. "From the looks of your crate back there I'd say you need a mechanic in a bad way."
"So I'll hire one," he said, not missing a beat. The stranger grinned oddly.
"I'll do it for free," she said. Jet was sent reeling.
"Bullshit," he said, recovering. "Nothing's free." The stranger laughed up at the sky.
"How right you are," she shouted, laughing. "However, I don't want any money." She left the old bounty-hunter to ponder this for a moment. She went on with a mad man's enthusiasm after a moment.
"For the expense of three 'hots and a cot, you will receive, along with my company, a constant mechanic who expects not a single Woolong for her services." Jet stared at the stranger carefully, wearing a determined poker-face.
"Why are you so keen on living with me?" he asked finally.
"Because I like to travel!" the stranger exclaimed. "I don't much like that whole business of people sneaking up on me with guns while I sleep, though." Jet thought about this carefully. Where had he seen her before?
"So the way I figure it," she continued. "If I'm going along with three cowboys, that's a bit less likely to happen." Jet had to try hard not to flinch. Whoever this freak was, she'd done her homework to know there were three of them.
Carefully, he decided to go along with her.
"Alright," he said. "But me and my friends get into a lot of fights, little girl-"
"My name's Terry," she corrected, angrily.
"Yeah, Terry," he continued. "But like I said, we get into a lot of fights, and I can't afford much in the way of medical bills." The stranger laughed gleefully. She was starting to remind him of Edward.
"You won't have to worry about it!" she exclaimed. "I can be handy in a fight. How do you think I got here in one piece?" The old captain considered this. If she had been following him for two years on her own, she had to be telling the truth.
Finally, he thought of something. He walked over to a crate of apples he'd bought an hour ago. Picking one of them up, he regarded the stranger.
"You got a gun, cowgirl?" he asked. Wordlessly, the stranger pulled an automatic pistol from an under-arm holster. Without giving her a chance to cock it, Jet flung the apple at her like a baseball. With reflexes like he hadn't seen in some time, she dodged to the right, pulled back the hammer and fired. He watched the apple explode, a nine-millimeter shell flying through its core.
He was impressed, even more so by the fact that she carried it with a shell chambered, but didn't let up. He threw another above his head. Another shot, and the remains of the fruit rained down like confetti. He threw three above his head. The stranger's pistol snapped to life three more times, each time destroying an apple.
Suddenly, the gun was on him. His confident smile disappeared. He'd drawn his own weapon, meaning to surprise the strange girl. He was now in a Mexican stand-off.
"Oh, come on Jet," she said like an old friend. "You really thought I wouldn't see that coming?" After a laugh, she put away the gun.
"I wouldn't shoot you," she said, smiling. "So how about it? Did I pass?" Jet put away his gun.
"Sure," he said. "Just go pay for our dock; we're about to leave."
The stranger's smile left her.
"Bullshit," she said angrily. "You paid before they let you land. You're trying to get rid of me."
"Maybe I am," Jet said, having turned and begun walking away.
The stranger cursed. He ignored her. He stopped a moment later, however, when he heard the hammer of a pistol being cocked behind his head. He cursed under his breath. He hadn't heard her take one step.
"Alright, old man," she said in a growl. "You want to know why I spent all that time trying to find you?"
"Yeah, I do," Jet said defiantly, turning to face the stranger. The stranger began speaking, keeping the pistol pointed between the old captain's eyes.
"Two years ago, you docked in a small town for repairs and re-supply. You didn't see your net-diver, Edward, that entire week." The stranger paused for a moment. "I met her that week," she said.
Jet raised an eyebrow.
"What are you telling me?" he asked. The stranger didn't blink.
"I'm telling you I fell in love with her," she said without feeling. The old captain hadn't seen this coming. He kept quiet, regardless.
"It was mutual," she stated simply.
"How do you know?" the old bounty-hunter asked defiantly. The stranger was angered by this.
"How do I know?" she shouted, disbelieving. "Because we couldn't keep off each other that entire week! Because we couldn't help but remind each other every ten minutes!"
Jet remained silent, expressionless. It all sounded like shit to him. Touching shit, but still shit.
"I made Edward a promise before she left," the girl said. "I told her I'd find her. Those were my last words to her: 'I love you, Ed. I'll find you.' I don't care if I have to kill you, and become a bounty-head for the murder of a bitter old prick. I'm not going to break my promise."
"You don't mean that," said Jet after a tense moment. The girl remained still, steady.
"Look me in the eye and say that," she said. The old man didn't answer.
She lowered the pistol to her side and continued.
"If you can look me in the eye and say that, I'll never bother you again."
The old man obliged, wordlessly. He looked into the girl's eyes. He started to repeat himself, when he began to see it: amongst hatred, determination, fear, the slightest hint of madness, he saw loneliness. Endless, crushing loneliness. Longing. He was by no means a romantic, but he knew people. The girl was telling the truth.
He cursed under his breath. He was a bounty-hunter. He'd shot people in the back, poisoned and drugged men's drinks. He'd always done whatever it took to win, to get what he was after. But he wasn't without a conscience.
"You said you're a mechanic?" he asked finally in a defeated voice, looking away.
"Yeah," the girl said absently. Jet looked and saw that she quite was worked up, seemingly on the verge of tears. Obviously, she didn't like talking about this.
"Come on," he said, turning to head back to the ship. He heard her follow after a moment.