Chapter 10 #2
Lowell grimaces. “Nah. They’ll be after my bounty.
But lucky for us, Lizardfolk-piercing bullets are heavier and require a closer range, so they’ll have to come to us if they want to do any damage.
” Although it’s fleeting, I see a look of hunger cross his eyes. “Can’t say I’m complaining about that.”
He wants to eat them. I shudder.
Swiveling my bow on the seat, I spot another criminal who is strangely far away from the two I saw previously. This one is holding something round in their hands, rather than a firearm. The objects almost look like apples, large round globes with a stem at the top.
They’re boiling flasks.
My crosshairs set directly across the criminal’s face, his eyes on mine as though he knew I was watching him. He lifts one of the globes, the glass glinting in the light. The liquid appears to be a dark-brown sludge, thick and gelatinous. It must be some sort of explosive.
The criminal winds his arm like a pitcher, preparing to launch the liquid directly at me. From his altitude, it’d be hard to miss, especially with an explosive’s area-of-effect.
I have to do something.
Panic washes over me like an ocean wave, a cold grip squeezing my chest. My finger teases the trigger, senses heightened as I tune in to the speed and direction of the wind. I only have one shot before he throws the globes, and I have to take it now.
“One on the left. I’ve got him in my sights. I’m firing in three,” I tell Lowell, masking my fear with an overly stern tone.
Lowering his hands and hunching his body, Lowell nods. “The two on the right are coming down the bottom of the pass. Take the shot. I’ll be ready for the others.”
I draw a breath between my lips, my heart rate frantic.
I can’t do this.
I’m not ready.
I’m—
Before the criminal releases the globes from his hand, I pull the trigger.
A bolt releases from my bow, planting firmly in the criminal’s chest. Boiling flasks tumble from his hands as he slumps forward, glass bouncing off the crags along the side of the pass.
One breaks open on impact, the liquid spreading with a sizzle and pop.
Bubbles form as the goop seeps into the ground with a hiss.
“What the fuck is that?” Lowell shouts, wrinkling his nose as the stench of decay permeates the air.
I pinch my nose, shaking my head in confusion. “I don’t know. Chemical bombs?”
A few of the globes remain intact, but my curiosity is subverted by the sound of boots thundering down metal steps.
“Shit, there’s way more than two,” I hear Lowell say. “Get behind the sandcycle.”
What looks like five criminals emerge from the makeshift scaffolding, each one of them armed with either a handheld weapon or a rifle.
I worry my lower lip, the intensity of the situation turning my stomach into knots. Lowell was right: I don’t want to be left with whatever or whoever could take him down.
Gripping my crossbow, I scoot backward until my shoulder hits the sandcycle’s footrest. Hastily loading another bolt with my bow in my lap, I keep focused on the criminals as they descend the scaffolding with weapons raised.
Lowell approaches them, his posture nonchalant and relaxed. He doesn’t seem afraid at all.
What appears to be the leader at the front of the group shrugs his shoulders, a cocky smirk beneath his unkempt beard.
“How nice of you to show up at our front door, Lowell. Saves us the trouble of huntin’ you down,” he says, crossing his arms. “But I could have done without the destruction of our base. That’s rude, ya know? Even for you.”
The sun glints off of Lowell’s bared fangs.
The leader flashes a self-satisfied smile. “We got heaps of piercin’ bullets locked and loaded into our weapons, so you’re better off complyin’. No sense in taking part in the ‘dead’ part of ‘dead or alive’, right?”
I squint my eyes skeptically. No way they have that kind of money. Piercing bullets are more expensive than a month’s worth of food, easily.
He’s definitely lying.
I carefully observe the men, critically analyzing their movements with what little time I have before violence inevitably breaks out.
I notice that only the criminal on the far left has piercing bullets, as indicated by the way his hand sags from the increased weight. His wrists are trembling, aim wavering.
Lowell sighs, running a hand over his slick forehead. “Killing you all will be such a nuisance. Just let us through, yeah?”
The leader’s eyes widen in disbelief while the others laugh jovially. “Are you daft? You’re outnumbered, without a weapon! Surrender like a good animal and we’ll only torture your lady friend—” he winks at me, lecherously. “—a bit.” He cackles.
The other bandits snicker at his comment.
Lowell growls with such power the sand vibrates in neat circles beneath his feet.
The leader turns his head to face the men behind him. “Seems like he didn’t like that one,” he antagonizes, pointing a finger forward. “Prepare to take out his legs if he gets too rowdy.”
At the leader’s cue, the men positioned themselves in an ideal formation to fire.
“Now let’s try this again, Lowell. Considerin’ complyin’ now?” The leader asks smugly.
I don’t need to see Lowell’s face to know he’s sneering. This will quickly get out of control if I don’t act fast.
Adrenaline courses through my veins, and everything slows to a near halt. There is no time to think or plan, just shoot.
I have to do what I can to support Lowell, even if it kills me.