Free Borderlands: The Fallen by John Shirley

nodded and sighed sadly at that.
    “True, true, we don’t see ’em much,” Vance said. “Might be the raping, killing, dying thing that keeps them in the settlements. Of course, there’s always Broomy.”
    Now it was the men’s turn to shudder. “Don’t talk about Broomy,” Dimmle said. “I’ve still got the scars on my thighs.”
    “Looks like we’re almost home,” Vance observed.
    Marla turned and saw the island looming up close to them. It wasn’t very big, for an island, maybe a couple of football fields’ worth of junk, spiky growths, steel barrels chained together, shacks, dirty sand, and hulking shapes she couldn’t identify in the dimness. Boats of various sizes, including a large, shabby houseboat, were tied up at a pier, and in a moment so was the inflatable craft.
    “Okay, girlie,” Dimmle said, leering, pointing a pistol at her. “Climb out and don’t make a run for it—you’d run into worse on this island than you’d be running from.”
    Marla climbed onto the pier, Vance, Dimmle, and the others close behind her. She walked ahead of them, the rising wind fluttering her hair.
    Then they got to the place where the pier joined the island, and she stopped, confused. The island seemed to be rippling. Moving.
    “Is there an earthquake?” she asked.
    Vance stepped up beside her, chuckling. “You’ve a good eye, woman! Grunj’s Island isn’t solid land—it’s a vessel, several of them, chained and netted together, most of them hidden under all the camouflage we’ve laid down over them! We move it around at night, use it as a kind of Trojan horse to get to other vessels … Sometimes their crews just walk onto the island and we get ’em that way … Works dandy!”
    “Oh, well, that’s …”
    “Creative and resourceful!” Vance laughed. “I know! When we need a hideout—we just move the island. Come on, down this way …”
    He led her along a “beach” covered with sand—as they walked along she could feel wooden planks under a thin layer of grit. Faces peered out at her from the shacks nearby … she saw tongues flickering, eyes gleaming, gun barrels catching light. There were footsteps behind them …
    Vance turned to see Dimmle and two other men following. He hefted his assault rifle. “And where do you think you’re going?”
    Dimmle cleared his throat. “If we could just, you know, share her around, for an hour or two, we promise not to leave any marks, boss!”
    “I told you—no! I’ve got the woman under control—she’s staying in my den and I’m going to sell her first chance! We’ll end up fighting over her! Use your money, and buy some women at the slave market on the Coast if you want some!”
    Dimmle snorted. “Those women! Precious few—and what there are is all used up and ugly! And some aren’teven women, some is just painted men! But this one …” He stuck out his tongue at Marla and wiggled it. “I’d like to taste ’er little—”
    “Dimmle—back off!” Vance barked, cocking his rifle.
    Dimmle’s mouth curved downward in a perfect inverted U, almost a cartoon of a frown. “Vance—you like to play boss. But you’re only second in command. Might be that Grunj’ll want to decide this.”
    “Then let him—when he gets back from the land raid. Till then, I call the shots. Now go on to Hell Hut—there’s a case of whiskey behind the bar you can share with the boys! Knock yerself out!”
    Grumbling, Dimmle led the other men away. Vance glared after them, muttering, “They’re getting uppity. Going to need a lesson, and soon!” He gestured at Marla with his gun. “And I’m in no mood for nonsense from you either, woman! Head on up the beach! I’ll be a step behind you.”
    She shook her head, holding her ground. “ ‘Woman’ is my gender, not my name. My name’s Marla Finn. And if you want a good ransom for me, you’d better see to it no one molests me—no one at all.”
    Vance raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Ransom? What