Vanessa reached under the bed for a laser gun and clicked it onto high.
"See, there's all manner of greenery. Right where I said it was, like I ever forgot where something was," a girl happily shouted, her voice was closer to the man's.
"Back, River," the man growled. "Come out with your hands up and we won't kill you," he shouted again.
Vanessa craned to see through the new hole, and glanced at Knives.
She gasped, and dove back under the bed for a first aid kit.
Knives was leaning against the wall with his left shoulder, because his right shoulder and back were bleeding. He'd been able to shield her from the debris of the first blast, his body over hers. Flesh was missing from the wounds, and there was…a lot of blood. It was pooling on the ground, already.
"We've got a hundred men riding in, twenty days from today. They ain't all as civilized as I am, you see. Surrender and I'll take you into my household. Otherwise, you're going to end up dead or worse. I can vouch for your safety if you just give up peacefully now, whoever you all are."
Vanessa pressed black clotting plastic into Knives' shoulder wound, her eyes tearing up.
"No one followed you?" Knives whispered.
"Definitely, no one – they had to have found us some other way…" With a larger strip of the plastic, she sealed off the gaping back wound. The plastics were leaking a little, they were too dry, he was losing blood.
Knives was peering over the edge of the bed. "That girl, a scout I think. And we didn't-"
"Knives, focus," Vanessa whispered hurriedly. "Explosives. Guys with guns. Hundred armed men." And bleeding I can't stop, she thought, biting her lip.
The man outside raised his shotgun again and bellowed for attention. "Try something, and I'll wipe you out, right now. Even if you manage to kill all of us here now, those to come will risk anything to get your green stuff here, just like I will. You don't beat that determination. So just give up. You ain't done nothing wrong. I don't wanna see you dead."
Knives drew his mouth tight and frowned, serious. Turning to Vanessa, he wordlessly lifted his left forearm and made a fist.
She shook her head. "Be reasonable, like he's trying to," she insisted, holding the plastic tight to his shoulder with one hand, reaching for the laser gun with the other.
Seemingly oblivious to the pain, Knives was incredulous, "You know how to use those, too?"
But they could hear the man walking closer. "Say something, or I will fire in 3…2…1.."
"Don't shoot," Vanessa yelled, still crouched and hidden. "Why aren't you waiting for the hundred men, why are you storming the place on your own?" she shouted.
The man laughed.
"You here to claim ownership?" she yelled.
Knives took over the wound compression with his free hand, allowing Vanessa the chance to grab clothing.
"I ain't crazy, woman. Hundred men ain't gonna care who got where first."
The girl laughed, near his side. "Ma'am, we just came early to keep whoever been livin here from getting killed next week."
"Yeah, so you just come out nice-like," the man offered.
Vanessa laughed aloud. "So you came, blowing holes where I sleep, to save me? Oh, my knight in shining armor!" She held tight to the worst wound, on Knives' shoulder, pressing it. They were sitting, naked, in a little puddle of blood, surrounded by pieces of the wall and roof.
"Charitable don't mean suicidal, hon. Even the prettiest ladies pack heat." He sounded impatient.
"You as pretty and dangerous as you sound?"
"What if I am? And slavery is not charity, slimebag," she sneered, before clumsily pulling a T-shirt over her head.
"Listen, you bitch, I'm giving you to the count of ten to get your ass up here and in my custody, or I'm blowin you up. Blowed up ladies can come in handy for some things, too. Either way, I'll make sure you're well nourished and taken care of."
"How many are there, two?" she whispered.
"Three; him, the girl, and a third young man with…explosives, I think," Knives murmured, face pale.
"Come on out! Ten. Nine."
"A gentleman would give a lady more time that that!"
"Eight."
"To pack and-"
"Seven. You won't be packin, miss. Six."
They heard him step closer again; he would be able to hear them.
"Five."
Vanessa whispered something to Knives, and he nodded.
"Four."
Knives whispered into her ear, and she responded the same.
"Three."
They swept the metal shards away from the floor about them.
"Two."
Vanessa leaned onto the floor, flat on her side, peeking around the foot of the bed, the pistol raised just so…
"One."
Two perfectly sliced chunks of shotgun fell to the ground. "What the f#&," the man mumbled, letting the last piece fall from his shoulder.
"Sir?" the young man called
The young girl fell, she cried out. "My arms!"
"God damn it, Simon, do it!" the man yelled
Simon rode a few yards closer on his toma and hurled several cloth-stuffed bottles in succession into the shack. But they didn't make it.
One exploded in the air between Simon and his target, and the others landed in halves on the ground, fizzling and popping in the sand.
Simon was knocked from his toma by a blast to his shoulder and fell unconscious.
The older man was beet red, and he drew twin guns from his holster, advancing on the shack, firing wild shots.
Knives' blades drew out, slowly; he was growing tired. He used them to deflect a few bullets from these guns and promptly sliced the barrels into bits.
The man cried out plaintively and fell to the ground beside his carved firearms.
Vanessa rushed to check him. "He's having a heart attack! Your knives, he-" She could save the man, she could defibrillate him, maybe remove his artery plaque…
Thud.
A garbled cry stuck in her throat. Rushing to pull Knives' face from the bloodied floor mats, she found him very pale. The plastic at his shoulder was gushing, the red puddle grew. Hastily, she pulled him off of the blood, into the light, grabbing for things to stop the bleeding.