A Disagreement

Lizard wipes my blood off his mouth with the back of his hand and stares at the smear like he cannot believe I touched him. Then his face twists. “Gimme the gun.” Mars does not move from the kitchenette. Lizard takes a step toward him. “I said gimme the fuckin’ gun.”

Mars slowly looks up from the Peacemaker resting in his huge hand. The lantern light glints off the old Colt’s cylinder while the camper groans around us in the desert wind. “Naw.”

Lizard blinks. “Naw?”

Mars shakes his head once. “She bitin’ back now. Means she got spirit.”

Lizard points at me violently. “She spit on me!”

“Yeah,” Mars says. “Prob’ly ’cause you're a weak little pussy.” My cheek throbs in time with my pulse while I sit frozen against the torn dinette cushions. Blood drips slowly from the corner of my mouth onto my bare knee. Neither of them is looking at me anymore.

Lizard steps closer to Mars. “She needs to get ventilated, fucker.”

Mars snorts. “She needs to get bred, dumbass.”

The words hit me like ice water dumped straight down my spine. For a second, I genuinely stop breathing. The camper suddenly feels smaller, hotter, the air thick with sweat, blood, and lantern smoke. My stomach twists so hard I think I might throw up right there on the torn cushions.

Mars says it casually, like he is talking about livestock or stray dogs, and somehow that makes it worse. There is no shame in his voice, no hesitation, only certainty. Lizard stares at him for a long moment like he cannot process what he just heard. Then he starts laughing. Not because it is funny. Because he has lost his mind.

The sound bounces harshly around the aluminum walls of the camper while he points at me with blood still smeared across his mouth. “Ain’t nobody breedin’ that crazy bitch,” he says between laughs. “Look at her. She’d cut your throat in your sleep.”

Mars looks over at me again, calm and thoughtful, still holding my Peacemaker loosely in one hand. He finally straightens away from the counter. “Prob’ly,” he says. “Still strong, though. Nice child bearing hips.” The camper suddenly feels much, much smaller.

“She crazy,” points out Lizard

Mars shrugs. “All the good ones is.” I feel sick.

Lizard shakes his head violently, greasy hair whipping around his face. “Naw. Naw, fuck that. She trouble. Look at her.” He points at me again. “She look at folks wrong. She think she better’n us.” Mars looks over at me calmly. I wish he would stop doing that.

Lizard spits on the floor. “She scared,” he says. “She ain’t scared enough.” Then he lunges for the gun. Everything explodes at once. Mars catches Lizard’s wrist before he even reaches the Peacemaker. The impact slams both of them sideways into the kitchenette hard enough to rattle the entire camper. Cabinets burst open. Dishes crash everywhere.

Lizard screams like an animal. Mars just growls. The Peacemaker stays trapped between them while they fight over it, both hands wrapped around the revolver now. Muscles bulge beneath Mars’ scarred arms while Lizard claws and bites like a feral dog. The gun goes off. The deafening blast inside the camper makes me scream instinctively.

Wood explodes out of the ceiling overhead. Gunsmoke fills the trailer immediately. Lizard headbutts Mars square in the face. Mars answers by driving him backward through the little folding table hard enough to collapse it beneath them. Another deafening shot explodes as the revolver discharges between them again, making both men howl and curse.

The camper rocks violently, and suddenly nobody is paying any attention to me. My heart starts hammering. The front door is six feet away. I could absolutely run right now. But then what? The second I hit the dirt outside, I am alone in open desert with no shoes, my hands still tied behind my back, and half the goddamned hills hunting me.

The dark stretches forever beyond the camper windows, cold moonlight washing over rock and sand and dead brush. Cyst is out there somewhere with that shotgun and those dead, pale eyes. The one they call Papa Jupiter is out there too. I know how fast they move now, and exactly how easily they drag people screaming into the dark.

Another gunshot detonates inside the camper. I flinch hard enough to nearly fall sideways off the bench. Lizard shrieks in pain. Mars roars back at him. I flinch hard against the cushions as Mars and Lizard slam into the kitchenette again, knocking cabinets open. Cans spill across the floorboards.

The Peacemaker clatters somewhere across the floor out of sight. My pulse pounds so hard it hurts. Everything inside me locks onto it instantly. The door means desert. Even if I make it outside, I am barefoot, tied up, bleeding, and trapped in the middle of nowhere.

The gun means a chance. Maybe a terrible one, but maybe also my last one..Mars roars as Lizard drives a knee into his ribs. The folding table collapses completely beneath them. The camper rocks hard enough to throw dust from the ceiling. Neither of them sees me move. I slide off the bench onto trembling legs, heart hammering so violently it makes me dizzy.

My wrists burn against the bindings behind my back while I stare at the Colt lying there in the dim light. The front door hangs just beyond it. Freedom or firepower, run or fight? I stare at the door while chaos tears the camper apart around me. And for one terrible second, I cannot decide which choice is more likely to get me killed.