Free Last Ranger by Craig Sargent Page B

she left and grabbing a bottle which she broke
     against a rock. Holding the antenna in one hand and the ancient jagged-edged Ballantine bottle in the other, she came forward
     in a crouch.
    “You stay down there, man,” Raspberry commanded Stone, and she kicked him in the side to let him know who was boss. Stone
     pulled back a few feet and looked around but the number of them with pistols drawn and knives out just waiting for him to
     try something quickly dissuaded him from the idea. Raspberry reached inside her jacket and pulled out a pair of nunchakus
     and began whipping them around in a blur.
    “You bin’ asking for this for a long time,” Raspberry said, circling around her adversary. “I bin’ lettin you get away with
     a lot of shit ‘cause you and me used to be tight. But lately—you a superbitch. So let’s get it on, woman. Do your best.”
    “Sugarlips, you’re about to lose your sweetness,” Rose Spike laughed and slashed out suddenly with the antenna. The thing
     zapped out like a fencing épée so fast Stone could hardly see it, but Raspberry’s nunchakus moved just as swiftly and slammed
     the antenna away. Rose Spike slashed out with the broken bottle from the other side and the swinging wooden sticks ripped
     into the bottle. It exploded in Rose Spike’s hand, making it turn bright red as the glass dug in.
    “Oh, hurt your widdle hand,” Raspberry mocked the bigger but older and slower woman.
    “Not as much as I’m going to poke holes in that pretty little body of yours, bitch,” Rose screamed out. She flicked out with
     the antenna again and again, jumping all around. She was good—and a few of the slashes hit into Rasp-berry, making her wince
     with pain though she didn’t emit a sound. Each spot the antenna struck a red welt appeared and blood oozed out. But she was
     able to shield her face until Rose Spike faltered for just a second and stepped back to regain her balance.
    It was Raspberry’s turn. She came in swinging the nun-chakus like a propeller blade and drove her adversary straight back
     about ten feet. Then she flipped one end of a stick up and the tip slammed right into Rose Spike’s left eye. It ripped the
     whole orb right from its socket and sent it flying through the air in a spray of red that gushed out from the hole. Rose let
     out a scream that everyone in camp heard, heads rising out from beneath the car window homes to see what the hell was up.
    Rose Spike clamped both hands over her face, letting the antenna fall, as if trying to stop the stream of red that was pouring
     down her face, neck, and black leather clothes. “My eye, my fucking eye,” she screamed. Suddenly she turned and ran right
     through them, stumbling over things, screaming every inch of the way before she disappeared into the shadows at the edge of
     the bonfire’s light.
    “I told her not to eye my men,” Raspberry said to the onlookers. “So she lost one of her eyes to even do it with. Now she’s
     a cyclops. Once more—she’ll be a noclops.” She laughed loud at that one. And about half the others joined in. And Martin Stone,
     lying on the ground, wondered just what he had had in mind when he had rescued her. He should have tied her up and handed
     her over to the Jalopios. They obviously knew how to deal with women such as these.

CHAPTER
Nine

    “C OME on man,” Raspberry said, lifting Stone up by the hand until he was standing. Before he could move an inch she had slapped
     some cuffs around his wrists and pulled him off like a bound calf heading for the slaughter. Other Ballbusters went over to
     the great mud phallus and began shooting away at it to relieve frustration. She led him about a hundred feet into the shadows
     until she came to her own little bit of heaven dug into the earth. She reached down and pulled on the handle of the door entrance
     and lifted it up and back.
    “Down man,” she said, apparently in no mood for bullshit. Stone leaned over and found the