Chapter 31
The Hunters
In a next few days they hung out in the same café, enjoying the warm weather. Sharine’s inflamed arm calmed down; the herbs seemed to be working well on the wound. Sharine was sipping lemonade and was observing Glock, amused. Glock fixed his gaze at Molly with his half opened mouth, but he wasn’t really doing the eye contact; and when she glimpsed at him, he looked away.
“Can you please do that other time?” said Sharine, frowning.
“Huh? What?”said Glock. Sharine laughed, shaking her head. Sharine looked at Glock huge glittering eyes. Seeing from his frustrated and embarrassed look, she suddenly felt a playful urge to poke him around.
“Glock, do you have a wife?” asked Sharine, narrowing her eyes.
“Huh? Nah,” he waved his hand, biting Sharine’s chocolate chip cookie. He tried to look indifferent but his eyes fluttered.
“Well, why not?” said Sharine, twining her hair with her finger.
“Well, look at me, why would girls even like me?” grumbled Glock, discouraged.
“Who gives a shit? If you like the girl, ask her out,” said Sharine, pointing at the counter where the waitress was talking to the other customer.
“Nah, I’m no good Nah…” said Glock, glimpsing at her.
“Huh, you are afraid,” Sharine shook her head, drinking, ice clattering in her glass.
“Ha! Me? Afraid? I’m the born warrior! I’m vicious, ruthless and scary!” Glock growled, rather pitifully.
“You managed to be stabbed by a wounded girl,” Sharine muttered. Glock leered at her, grunting.
“I don’t want her to live a shitty life, I’m poor. She deserves better,” grumbled Glock.
“Well, you might get her to marry you if you convince her with jewelries. But come on; why do that? She will ditch you if someone young and rich man comes along,” said Sharine.
“Ha! Those fairy tale style love, I’ve heard that before, never works, never works,” said Glock.
“It is worth it, nevertheless,” said Sharine.
“Ha! Really?” said Glock, crossing his arm.
“Really,” said Sharine, leaning back on the chair.
“Where is your prince then? Why are you even here?” questioned Glock. Sharine face suddenly got rigid.
“See? You can’t even answer. I can see it in your eyes. Pretty much he left you alone here,” said Glock, cleared his throat. Sharine opened her mouth to deny his claim; but before she could reply, he continued. “Well, guess what? He doesn’t even bother to look for you! Was he dear to you? Did he say he loves you forever and ever? See, I can understand, you got a pretty face, I can totally understand why guys…”
“Shut it Glock, or I’ll slice your throat,” Sharine snarled. They stared each other, finally Glock stood up. Everyone at the café was staring at them; luckily for Glock, Molly went inside the kitchen.
“You and your bullshit,” said he and left there. Sharine’s hands were trembling with anger. She put the ice into her mouth and started biting it. The gelid pieces swam inside her mouth which chilled her down. A moment later, Molly came to Sharine.
“Oh, I got some extra cookies for you, Sharine, where is…?” said Molly, little confused.
“I might’ve touched on some sensitive spot,” said Sharine, standing up bitterly. “I’ll see you around.”
She got out of the café. She was walking in the rough muddy street, covered by the grinded wood.
“My, my, I just blew my chance to get into the hunters’ club,” mumbled Sharine.
She looked around the village; they were either very small houses or huts. Some blocky houses were connected with one another with massive metal links. She frowned and looked closely at the houses. Like an old railroad, the ground was uplifted, most of them were covered with mud, but from spot to spot, she could see a steel surface.
She walked toward the weaponry shop. Sharine’s dead pistol was strapped sadly on her belt. She stopped at the shop where two rifles hung on the wall, crossing each other. ‘Kiss My Ass,’ it was written on the sign.
The store was packed with various weaponries, so many that there were almost no spaces to walk around. Many guns were big, looked more like a cannon. She doubted she could carry any of them around. There were heavy machine guns, assault rifles, sniper rifles, pistols, gurkas, grenades, claymores and various others. There was one deer head on the corner.
“I love this neighborhood,” Sharine snorted and got into the store. When she entered, there was a dozing old man on the chair.
“Hello?” said Sharine, but the old man didn’t respond, snoring. Sharine went up to him and poked him few times.
“Hello?” said Sharine. “Hello!”
The old man gasped as if he is choked and woke up suddenly, Sharine jumped. The old man almost fell and Sharine grabbed his shirt to prevent him from falling. The old man gazed intently at Sharine, frowning and sniffing.
“Oh, oh, hello Ms! what can I get you? There are best personal kits one can find in this whole world! It is damn good indeed. It is the best in the world!” bellowed the old man, standing up with his cane, grumbling. “Where, where… where are my glasses?”
He groped around on the table, looking for his thick glasses. Sharine grabbed them and handed to him.
“Oh, you you are so kind,” stuttered the old man. “Damn… Damn... this stupid….”
After few cursing and grousing, he put on his glasses. He looked bit like a mantis. His chin was trembling a little, he looked at Sharine intently.
“Sorry, have… have we met? Perhaps my old brain is no good anymore,” mumbled the old man.
“No, I’m new,” said Sharine.
“Ah! New? You say?” said the old man.
“Yes, do you do the repair?” asked Sharine, handing her pistol to the old man.
“What?” frowned the old man.
“Repair! Do you do the repair?” shouted Sharine.
“Of course, what you’ve got there lady?” said the old man, and sat down on his chair. She put the pistol on the table and pushed it toward him. The old man touched its cold metal skin, and examined it carefully.
“Huh,” said the old man, and burst into laughter. “What are you going to hunt with this? A squirrel?”
“It kills just fine,” muttered Sharine, annoyed. “Better than the piece of junk you have it here.”
But he didn’t seem to hear; he stood up abruptly, startling her. His face full of delight, he walked deep into the store, and rummaged the piles of junks. Sharine, frustrated, propped up her chin in her hands. After the series of rattling and clattering metals, the old man came back, humming, and put down the piece of rifle on the table.
“Perhaps you want the sniper rifle instead?” said the old man, grinning. Sharine was actually amazed at the sight; the rifle was delicate and gracefully slim. It had an oak handle, olive shoulder strap, and the shining black metal scope.
“I built it myself. Ha! It is such a beauty. It can shoot the flying pigeon’s ass from miles away!” exclaimed the old man, proudly.
“I… I don’t think I’ve got enough money to buy that,” said Sharine, although tempted to buy it. She pointed at her pistol. “I just want this fixed.”
She put all the money she had with her and put it on the table, little worried that it might not be enough. The old man grabbed one of the currencies, examining the mark.
“Ora eh?” said he, skimmed through Sharine’s body, stopping at her wounded arm.
“Yeah,” muttered Sharine, nervously. The old man grinned and took the money.
“Cassandra is one of the good trading routes for us,” chuckled the old man, glimpsing at her hip where her gurka was located. “I can probably sharpen your gurka too.”
“Thank you,” said Sharine, relieved, taking it out and placed it on the table.
“Alright, come back at dinner time,” said the old man.
“Really? That fast?” said Sharine.
??
?Ladies first,” the old man chuckled. “And you are the first time here,” he offered his hand.
“Thank you very much,” said she and shook his hand.
Sharine went back to the Molly’s place because she didn’t want to go into the hunters’ club without her gun. While on the way, she tripped and almost fell down, she stood up to see what it was, and it was metal frame. She groaned and leered at it, removing the mud to see what it was. It was long metal bar, it intrigued Sharine.
She walked hurriedly to the café wanting to ask some question. But when she got there it was deserted and the door was bolted shut. She glimpsed inside and there was Molly stretching herself. Sharine knocked on the door.
“We are on a break! Come back in two hours!” bellowed Molly, bewildered. Sharine thought about knocking it again, but she wheeled around and turned to the motel, thinking about asking Rove.
But before she did, the door hung opened.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Molly. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”
“Sharine,” said Sharine.
“You are new here aren’t you?” said Molly.
“Yes,” said Sharine.
“So, what do you do? There’s a help needed in the kitchen, we had to shut it down as the cook just chopped off his finger,” said Molly, her eyes glittered dangerously. “But, never mind, you have your own injuries. But, in future days, you’re welcome to check out our position.”
“Thank you,” said Sharine, reluctant.
“So what do you do?” asked Molly.
“I literally eat, sleep and poop these days,” said Sharine laughing, trying to break the ice. Molly didn’t laugh but crossed her arm. Sharine coughed and cleared her throat.
“I would love to check out your position,” murmured Sharine.
“You are very pretty. Do you know well with Glock?” said Molly.
“No, we just met few days ago,” said Sharine.
“Staying his place?” said Molly, her smile fading.
“Uhh… not now,” murmured Sharine.
“Good,” said Molly, rather rudely. “Well, it was nice to talk to you, I guess, if you tag along with him, I’ll give you some food, since you are so… out of shape.”
“Ok…” murmured Sharine, boggled, wondering whether this girl is a two faced. She seemed to be so nice before. Molly nodded lightly and closed the door.
Sharine went back to the motel, not seeing Rove, went to her room and lied down on her bed. She changed the herbs for her wound. It still hurt to the bone, as the bullet scratched the bone tissue. But she could move the arm. She wrapped around with the new bandage and tied them up using her right arm and her mouth.
The sun came down. Rove brought her some loaf of bread and soup. She ate it, the warmth filled her stomach. She gave thanks to Rove and walked out the motel, walked to the weaponry shop.
When she entered the shop, the old man waved at her, and proudly handed her the pistol. It looked same as before.
“Mind if I try it here?”said Sharine. The old man opened the drawers abruptly and gave her the bullet.
“Thank you,” said Sharine.
Sharine loaded the ammunition and aimed at the calendar on the wall. There was a picture of bikini girl attached to it. Sharine pulled the trigger and it blow out her nose.
“Yep,” said Sharine, satisfied.
The gurka sword was same as before too, completely untouched. Sharine glimpsed at him; he shrugged, saying that he didn’t have enough time. She smiled, strapped the gurka sword on her thigh and marched toward the hunters’ club.
At the hunters’ club, Sharine felt like she walked into the cowboy mansion. There were loud shouting and laughter and the shooting at the ceiling. Some people were throwing darts. Skinny, drunken man played violin. The woman who was serving the drinks had a cowboy boots on her. She was about a same height as Sharine.
“Hello Ms, something that I can help you with?” said the statuesque woman, chewing the bubble gum. There was some guy laughing too hard he couldn’t even breathe; someone threw a glass on the wall.
“Uhh yeah, can I get a beer?” said Sharine, giving her some money from her pocket.
“Of course,” said she, smiled like a fox and went away, swinging her hips as she walked by. She was passing the overly muscular guys doing arm wrestling.
The guns they were carrying were mostly heavy machine guns. They looked more like troopers than hunters. Although appearance varied, most of them looked like jungle fighters doing guerrilla warfare. The woman brought Sharine a beer. Sharine, sipping a beer, walked straight across the hall and talked to the cowboy on the wall. He was smoking cigarette, looked pretty young; he seemed like he is trying to look tough amongst the big guys who were chuckling in the corner. Sharine walked up to him and leaned on the wall, looked straight to him.
“Hey, do you know the one in charge here?” said Sharine.
“Huh, who am I referring to?” said the young boy.
“Sharine Pestice, I’m new in town. I was wondering whether you guys have some empty position to fill me in.” Sharine smiled as if seducing him.
“Position?” said he, his face heating up at her beauty.
“Yes,” said Sharine, sweetly. “What is your name?”
“Call me Kevin, Uhh… Kevin Morrison, nice… nice to meet you,” the kid gulped and stuttered. Taking his sweaty hand out, Sharine shook his hand. “Uhh, our boss is right around the corner miss, you’ll see the black door with a stag horn on it. Be careful though, he got… Uhh… he got some nasty temper.”
Sharine gave him her beer, Kevin gripped it. She tapped his shoulder and walked past him.
“His name is Seth, Ms,” said Kevin to her back.
She turned around the corner. The floor was full of muddy footprints. The yellow moss was flying around the hallway. She realized that the door was half opened. She knocked as she walked in.
“Hello?” she said.
Sharine heard the scrapping sound of a knife against a grinding stone. On the table there were a wine bottle, an old scroll map, a compass, a big revolver and bullets scattered around it. There was a wine spill on the floor. The man who was sharpening the knife looked up at Sharine.
“Who the fuck are you?” Seth turned around in his chair. Seth had a tanned skin, the rough beard and a low gurgling voice.
“I’m new in town. I am looking for a job sir,” said Sharine.
“Why would we seek help from a little girl like you?” snarled Seth, haughtily.
“I can kill, sir,” said Sharine.
“Ha! Go somewhere else, there’s the herb garden down the street! You can water the plants there!” The man started laughing hard.
Sharine clenched her teeth.
“If there is a tryout for new recruits, I can show it to you,” said Sharine.
“Ha! Recruit? Are you kidding?” laughed Seth. “What? Do you think we are running some girl scouts around here lady?”
“I can prove it to you, sir, that I…” repeated Sharine, but Seth interrupted.
“I’m not going to say it again, now get out,” growled Seth. He looked down and resumed the knife sharpening. Sharine, boiled with anger, gripped her fist tight. But seeing that there was nothing she could do, she went out the room.
She walked down the hallway, and there was Kevin, who was still there on the spot. He was looking at Sharine nervously with some kind of hope but seeing her angry face, he became gloomy.
“Didn’t go well huh?” said Kevin, making his face as if he knew this was going to happen.
“Not at all, what do you guys do here anyway? Those weapons are for a tank, not a deer,” said Sharine, looking at Kevin’s huge machine gun leaning against the wall.
“Well Ms, we have to protect us from those creatures, it is mostly for the protection purposes,” murmured Kevin. Sharine was now convinced that these weird creatures exist and she wasn’t hallucinating at the ship.
“Yes, I’ve heard the outside of the village is quit
e dangerous. Could you tell me more about this island?” asked Sharine.
“This is the place of a, well, used to be dwelled by the uncivilized people. After a while, the people came in and practiced pretty messed up stuff. You know all the voodoos and blood sacrificing... And that big rich dude Ricky came along and built this shelter. All I know is that much,” said Kevin, scratching his head.
“Really?” frowned Sharine.
“Well… yeah, that’s why we are not supposed to go out from the village,” murmured Kevin.
“Were you born here?” said Sharine, but Kevin shook his head.
“Well then, if this is a shelter, it’s pretty lousy defense, more like some peaceful village to me… Who are you guys hiding from?” asked Sharine.
“There are many,” said Kevin and glimpsed at Sharine. “I’m guessing that you don’t even know what everyone else knows.”
“…” Sharine looked at Kevin with a puzzled look.
“This is a train, Ms., the whole town is a huge moving house,” said Kevin.