SALTED LACERATIONS
It's Always Sunny On Pandora (part 2)
Pain shot up Kashmere's feet as he hit the ground and lurched forward, tumbling through the dirt for a short moment until finally coming to a halt on his stomach.
Air brushed the tail of his vest up as the train sped past him. Hand still resting on his cap, he turned his head to the train's tail already heading towards the distant mountains. With a groan, Kashmere sat up and once again fixed his hat into place. His gaze turned to his wounded shoulder. Blood oozed from the bullet wound, soaking into his clothes and discolouring the brown of his vest.
Kashmere let out a sigh, "You suck, Tim." He spat out before struggling to his feet.
The pitstop stood a few meters away, set alongside a paved road, littered with cracks and faded to a light brown. A building made up of scrap metal and drywall stood accompanied by a Catch-A-Ride system. The windows were lined with broken glass. The door was kicked in off it's hinges, and the walls were littered with symbols and profanity drawn with a sickening red colour. Kashmere's eyes trained on the Dr. Zed vending machine pressed up against the wall and his face lit up. He hurried over, stumbling over his feet from the lightheadedness set in his mind. Wiping his blooded hand on his pant leg, he pressed his other hand onto the vending machine and winced in pain as more blood rushed from the bullet wound. Kashmere pulled a dollar bill from under his cap and pressed the selection on the vending machines.
"Welcome to Doctor Zed's portable clinic-" The vending machine's greeting was cut short by Kashmere's fingers pressing against the health vile selection.
"Thanks so much for putting this shit here, Zed! Definitely gonna suck you off now." Kashmere promised as he shoved the dollar bill into the slot. The vending machine sputtered for a moment before spitting the dollar back out, then repeating it's greeting, "Welcome to Doctor Zed's portable clinic-"
"Oh God, no." Kashmere breathed out with panic as he attempted to shove the dollar bill back into the slot, only to have the machine fail once more, "Please, Zed! Don't do this to me!" He begged, trying a different dollar bill only to have the same result. He let out a cry of frustration and sent the front of his boot slamming against the vending machine just as it was repeating its greeting. The impact made the machine shudder and the greeting repeat itself in a loop. Kashmere buried his face into the vending machine and let out a scream before pulling the pistol from his holster, "Shut up, Zed!" He demanded, shooting at the machine. The bullet ricocheted from the now quiet machine and sped between his legs, making him jump and scream out in surprise.
He slid down onto the ground, "Why won't you just take my money?" He asked the machine, crouching still on the ground whimpering with grief. Finally he rolled over onto his backside and leaned against the machine, "I hate you, Zed. Shitty-ass doctor..." He pulled the knife from the straps of his boot and gripped the handle with white knuckles, figuring he should attempt to push the bullet from his wound, "Stupid, old, wrinkled ballsack Dr. Zed..." He mumbled to himself as he brought his shaking hand nearer to the bullet wound. Wincing in pain, he pressed the knife to the side of the wound. His shaky hand causing more blood to ooze. He held the knife still for a moment, hesitating to shove it into the bullet hole. Finally his hand gave out and dropped to the ground. Instead, he cut the collar of his shirt down to the bottom and pulled it out from under his vest. Wincing in pain, he wrapped the shirt around his shoulder and torso, pulling on it to tighten it. A tired breath escaped his mouth and he let his head loll back onto the machine. Upon impact with his head, the machine repeated itself, "Welcome to Doctor Zed's portable clinic! What can I get for 'ya?"
"Get me a noose." Kashmere answered.
Distant sounds of bandit technical engines made Kashmere raise his head. He squinted his eyes against the sun as he stared down the train track at three technicals driving side-by-side. Bandits hung off the sides, screaming and banging their buzzaxes against the technicals' blood-tainted shells. On the turret of the middle technical sat Krushnor; a large man with scrap metal strapped to his body. His arms were free from fabric, revealing the dark muscle tone underneath. Skulls and bones hung from the horns of the heavy, metal helmet that covered his face.
The technicals' engines revved, and their wheels angled themselves towards Kashmere who let out a nervous sigh, "Oh no..."
Kashmere's hand pressed against the dollar bill laying on the ground and he shoved it underneath the vending machine as the three technicals pulled up.
"Where's my money, skaglick?" Krushnor demanded, the technical lowering to the side with his mass as his spiked boots stepped to the ground. The small gang of bandits stayed behind on the technicals, hanging from the sides and watching with eagerness as Krushnor took a step towards Kashmere.
"Your money's on the train," Kashmere answered, still sitting against the vending machine, "You missed it."
"Bullshit! My scout saw you jump off the train! Yous got it!" Krushnor's stubby finger raised to Kashmere with accusation. His other hand had a tight grip on a shotgun decorated with spikes and bones.
Kashmere's hands raised in surrender, "No—no course not! You think I'm some cheating, disloyal bastard?"
"I's think it's pretty likely, given th' situation." Krushnor lowered his other hand and placed it on his shotgun.
Kashmere shook his head, "Oh goodness no! I would never, ever do that. Especially not to you. I'm not stupid. You'd splatter my organs across Pandora with your shotgun."
Krushnor looked down at his shotgun, his shoulders bounced as a proud chuckle escaped him.
Kashmere continued, "Really, it's that guy, Tim, who's at fault here. See, I was told that we were scouting for the train for you. We'd be down the tracks from you guys so we can tell you when the train's coming. Turns out, that bastard wanted to use me to get the loot for himself!" Kashmere made a surprised gasp for effect, "Un—believable. Right?! I tried telling him that the loot belonged to you, an' that it was only fair you get it because you've worked so hard to plan the raid. But this asshole, this downright shitlord, threatened to kill me if I didn't help him! So I had to jump on the train with him an' act like I was helping. Loaderbots came after us an' they killed Tim an' I got away, but-" He gestured to the bullet wound in his shoulder, "-That happened. Point is, the loot's still on the train, an' the longer you stand here and interrogate me, the further away it's getting."
A deep groan of disbelief sounded from Krushnor. He leaned down closer to Kashmere, the bones on his helmets clinking against each other like wind chimes, "How's I suppose to believe you?" He asked.
Kashmere gestured to the dirt around him with both hands, "I don't have the loot. Think if I was really after it, I'd have it, right? Probably would've used Doctor Zed's shit machine by now, too."
Krushnor stood back straight and took a step back, "I don' believe ya'! Its in 'yer pockets, I bet!" He looked over his shoulder at the gang of bandits, "Two of 'yees go an' search 'em 'fer it!"
Two psychos hopped from the technicals, letting out cries of acknowledgement as they ran to Kashmere. Grabbing him by the arms, they hoisted him painfully to his feet. Kashmere let out a cry of pain as his injured arm was yanked, "Ow! Watch the arm, cumrags!" He snapped at them.
The bandits ignored him, patting their hands against his pants and vest and overturning his pockets.
"Nothing..." One repeated with a quiet voice. The other turned to Krushnor and repeated it with a shout. The two shoved Kashmere down to the ground before returning to the technicals.
"See? Told you. I don't have it." Kashmere shrugged as Krushnor turned back towards his technical, "Now you can just jingle your bone-chime ass outta here."
Krushnor stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at Kashmere, "Quit wastin' my time, skaglick!" Before Kashmere could reply, Krushnor brought his shotgun forward and shot at Kashmere. The blast caught Kashmere offguard and he cried out, but the small bursts of metal deflected off his shield and fell down to the dirt. Krushnor lowered his shotgun and let out an agitated groan before climbing back into the technical's turret. The bandits let out excited cheers as the technicals sped off, coating Kashmere with the dust from their wheels. Kashmere wiped the sand from his mask lenses and watched them for a short moment before sliding down onto the ground on his back. He reached a tired hand under the vending machine and pulled the dollar bill from under it before sticking it into his hat, "...So glad no one ever checks my hat." He told himself, grinning with relief.
As the technicals disappeared, Kashmere's head turned to the entrance of the pitstop building and the idea of a health vile hidden inside crept into his mind. He struggled to his feet, and cradling his injured shoulder, made his way towards the entrance. Boots stepping over the blown-in door, Kashmere stepped inside the sand-blown building. The cash register sat on the floor near the front counter, the money tray pried open and empty. Blood splattered the empty shelves and the floor. A sudden foul stench of rot filled Kashmere's nose and he cringed with disgust. Hidden behind the counters was the corpse of what Kashmere assumed was the pitstop owner. His head hanged low in his lap. His clothes red, and the pool of blood underneath him dried to a reddish brown. Flies buzzed around his colour-drained face.
Kashmere stared down at the corpse in pity, "Damn...that sucks. Bet you coulda fixed the vending machine, too." In the pitstop owner's lap sat an ECHO Log. Kashmere's head cocked to one side as he stepped over to it, picking it up from the ground and wiping the blood from it on his pant leg. His finger hovered over the play button when he was interrupted by the sound of another technical from outside. His head jerked over his shoulder towards the window and he clipped the ECHO Log to his side before scrambling over the counter for cover. Sliding on his knees beside the window, he peered out towards the train track. A single, familiar technical pulled over near the Catch-A-Ride station. Kashmere felt a wave of relief as he saw Clement pulling himself from the technical's cockpit.
Kashmere hoisted himself over the windowframe of the glassless window, "Clement! My best-est friend, 'bout time you showed up!" He greeted with arms outstretched.
Clement's head raised towards Kashmere as he let himself drop from the technical onto the ground, "I lost you guys back at the canyon. Thanks for not letting me fall to my death, too, by the way. That was real nice of you."
"Thank you, I know." Kashmere let out an exhausted breath as he leaned against the technical, his hand reaching back up to his shoulder for support.
Clement's head lowered as his gaze shifted onto the blood-soaked shirt stretched and wrapped around Kashmere's shoulder, "So, what happened? Where's Tim?"
"Oh, Tim!" Kashmere stayed quiet for a moment, thinking up an excuse which he masked with exhausted, pained breaths, "Clement...it-it was a bloodbath..." Kashmere raised his head to face Clement, "The worst thing I've seen in the twenty-one years I've been alive!"
Clement stared back with his gun drooped to his side at the sheer suspense that overcome him, "Wh-what happened?"
Kashmere shook his head with distraught, "The l-loader bots, man! They came after us as soon as the alarm went! No regard to the Hyperion passengers...they murdered everyone! We didn't even get time to rob them!" Kashmere fell into Clement's shoulder, sobbing, "Tim begged them to let him go...screamed, even! But they just...his guts...all over the floor!"
"I'm gonna throw up—don't describe anymore." Clement ordered as he pushed Kashmere off of him.
Kashmere grasped the technical behind him for support, "I—I don't think I can ever look at trains the same way ever again. I'm scared of trains now, Clement! Absolutely terrified! When I hear 'choo choo' I shit my pants!"
"So then what? What happened to you?" Clement asked, gesturing at Kashmere's shoulder.
Kashmere glanced down at it, "Oh, I was just shot. It's fine." He answered with his usual nonchalant tone which brought an amusing, confused quietness from Clement, "You seem a bit too upbeat for that to be true."
Kashmere stared back with his hand up in a shrug, "What'd you mean?-I was shot. You can clearly see that.-Are you dumb?"
Clement answered after a sigh of annoyance, "I mean your story, Kash!"
"Maybe I might've over-exaggerated? A tiny bit?" Kashmere sat up on the hood of the technical, wincing as his injured arm was forced to pull his weight. He began again once the pain subdued, "But most of it was true," He put one hand against his chest and the other in the air in a pledge, "I swear on my mom's life. But point is, Tim's dead, I got shot, an' we didn't get the loot."
Clement nodded in understanding, "Yeah, that's pretty clear. I just don't like being lied to."
"You can trust me—I haven't lied to you since I've known you." Kashmere told him, softening his voice to a friendlier tone.
"So we don't have the loot and there's only two of us left now." Clement concluded.
Kashmere nodded.
"So what'd we do now? Give up and go home?"
Kashmere shook his head and inched a bit closer to Clement, "No, no. We can think of something later. But first-" Kashmere pulled the knife from the strap of his boot and held it out to Clement, "-Since I saved you back at the canyon, would you do me a real solid and get the bullet outta my arm? Kinda hard to concentrate with a piece of metal lodged in there."
"Hell no!" Clement took a step back with disgust, "I can't even listen to you talk about people dying, how you expect me to take a fricken bullet out of your arm?!"
Kashmere pulled the knife back and cocked his head at Clement, "What's wrong with you?"
"I have a weak stomach. That's why I wanted to drive, Kash!" Clement snapped back at him.
"Fine. We're both pussies." Kashmere concluded, setting the knife back onto his boot. He winced, trying to stay off his left arm as he crawled into the technical's turret, "Then drive my ass to Salted Lacerations, please." He suggested as he got into a comfortable position on the turret, "I know the town's doctor, she's pretty cool."
"Salted Lacerations?" Clement repeated with hesitation, "Isn't that a bandit town?"
Kashmere sighed with satisfaction as he leaned against the cushioned turret chair. Then looked down at Clement, "Yeah. Real nice, welcoming people. Got some quirks, though."
Clement stared back at him with uncertainty. One hand rested against the bars of the cockpit as he hesitated to go in, "Why do you wanna go to Salted? We could get mugged, or shot."
"Yes, please. I'd love that." Kashmere blurted out.
Clement cocked his head to the side, "To get mugged? Or shot?"
Kashmere decided to continue, looking down at Clement from the turret with a grin under his mask, "Both. At the same time. That's my kink."
"What is wrong with you?" Clement demanded, "I just asked a simple question-"
"Toss in a little scat into the mix." Kashmere connected his index and thumb fingers into a circle and let out sounds of satisfaction.
Clement stayed quiet for a short moment before letting out a quiet, "...Ew."
Kashmere let out a laugh at Clement's reaction, "Alriight, I'll stop dicking around. Just drive to Salts and save me from bleeding out."
Clement hoisted himself into the driver's seat and started the engine, "If we get mugged, it's on you."
