Her heart pounded as she vaulted over scores of dead bodies, some crushed in the impact, others with gaping bullet holes in their skulls. She ducked behind a row of seats inside the guts of the Siegfried, immediately cursing herself afterwards.

  Harper hadn’t run far enough, the cover was poor, and on the off chance Payton was still alive, she couldn’t do a damn thing for him from here. Just left him there with a hole in his face, after the chance he had taken on her.

  She pressed her back to the seat, crouching as low as she could. Six bullets left in her Zaykov. When they ran out, that was it. She was defenseless.

  Slow, steady footsteps followed her. Maybe she could have popped out of cover, pulled off a shot or two, gotten lucky. But right now, fear nailed her down, as she felt the blood from her missing finger trickle down her sleeve.

  A single gunshot and a bullet ricocheted off a steel bench a few seats down. This made her figure that her pursuer didn’t know exactly where she was, but was hoping to startle her and get her to reveal herself.

  “You know…” he said, voice calm and almost playful. And most of all, clear. Had he taken his mask off? “If you take off your mask, I might let you live… assuming you still have half a brain when you breathe in the dust-nanites.”

  “What the fuck…” Harper whispered to herself. Was he a sneak, a slayer that retained enough self-control to spring out his murderous impulses at the most opportune moment? But when was he infected?

  The footsteps began to move closer again. Harper couldn’t make a sound. She had to be quick, he would be watching for any sign of movement. But perhaps she could turn that itchy trigger finger to her advantage.

  She spotted a red canvas backpack lodged under the seat in front of her. She hooked three fingers into the handle, inching it closer, trying not to let the tapes, pill bottles and other assorted junk jingle too much. Trying not to wince in pain when the fabric grated against the stump of her missing finger.

  When it was finally free from the confines of the seat, she screamed and threw it in the air. Two gunshots echoed across the hull a split second after, tossing the backpack across the room in a cloud of fabric and powder.

  Harper jumped out, firing the Zaykov one, two, three times. At least one shot hit Mirko in the shoulder, widening his cold, gray eyes. She didn’t have time to check where the other two landed as she ran further into the Siegfried, the next door taking her to what appeared to be the ship’s secondary cargo bay.

  She noted a wrecked dust car, broken against the sloped wall of the Siegfried. It was a small thing, big enough for two people and a handful of supplies, powered by just two ducted fans on its sides. Perhaps there was some truth to Mirko’s story. Ducking behind the car was as good a place to take cover as any.

  She had to stifle a scream when she realized someone else had already had the same idea. Though, in truth the shaking figure hugging her pale, long legs behind the car was hardly threatening.

  She was tall, taller than Harper, but thin, almost dainty. A red sequin dress hugged her body. Her bare feet, a result of having to ditch her high heels, were pressed against the cold metal ground. Her long blonde hair still retained its waves, despite the mess it had become as a result of the crash and the dust. Tears of fear trickled down her pale green eyes as she stared at Harper. She would have looked like a ghost from the days before the Storm, preserved only on tapes and old photographs, were it not for the dust mask clinging to her mouth.

  But that did not stop Harper from recognizing her in an instant. “Anna Cloude?” she said, the words coming out a bit louder than she wished. “Shit…”

  But of course, Harper didn’t really know her by that name. She knew her as Claire Ashvane, the sultry widow, as Princess Belladonna, beloved daughter of the King of Hellenia, as Jess Starborn, the sexy superspy. How many nights had Harper spent watching her on the TV screen, imagining herself in her shoes or joining her on her adventures? It felt so childish now, seeing her like this, realizing those fantasies were part of the reason she had come to this hell in the first place.

  She settled next to the starlet, pressing a finger to her dust mask. Anna whimpered quietly to steady her heartbeat, but nodded. Other than her breathing, it was silent. Had she gotten Mirko? At the very least Harper had a moment to take off her left glove and stare at her stump, wincing as she realized looking at the thing made her remember it was supposed to hurt.

  “Help me with this…” she whispered as she reached up into her turtleneck; tearing a strip from the tanktop beneath. Anna nodded and took the makeshift bandage. The actress took Harper’s bloody hand into hers and tied the stump with shaky fingers. It wasn’t quite tight enough, and she would need to clean it as soon as possible. But it was the best she could get for now. She breathed in the filtered air, slowly steadying herself.

  Harper peeked out from behind the car. And her eyes met those of her stalker right away skulking on the other side of the bay.

  For the first time, she got a good look at him. Mirko did not look like a monster. He was handsome, even beautiful, like a tragic vampire from one of those stupid tapes Rita always gushed over. High cheekbones on a chiseled oval face, framed by dark hair that reached past his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing his duster anymore, just a black t-shirt. Blood had dripped down the length of his right arm, from the gunshot wound in his shoulder that he had hastily tied up.

  There was no anger or malice in his gaze as he lifted his gun, just a bit too slow in his uninjured left hand. Slow enough for Harper to pop one more shot at him and duck back behind the car.

  Two bullets left.

  “Missed!” he shouted across the bay, and ducked behind a pile of crates. His laughter echoed across the cargo bay. Anna was curled up next to Harper, trying to make herself as small as she could. But the killer was hesitating, too much for a slayer, even a sneak. The nanites in the dust, the curse left upon mankind by the artificial minds when they destroyed the web, made the impulse to kill too powerful for even the strongest minds to resist.

  “Harper, right?” he said, his voice echoing across the room, “That’s what your pal said?”

  “Why do you care, asshole?”

  “Just common courtesy, Harper,” he said, “Wanted to ask: how many bullets you got left?”

  Of course… there was a method to his madness. Harper thought back to the dead bodies, how many times Mirko had fired at her and Payton. The prick must have been running low on ammo by now as well.

  “You first!” Harper said.

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  “Fine, fine… got four left,” he said, “Now you, dollface…”

  “Three…”

  “Liar…” Mirko said and laughed, “I counted. A Zaykov carries eight rounds and I know you took that carter down with your shotty. You must be down to two.”

  “Then why bother asking, you prick?!” Harper shouted, clenching her fist as her missing finger pulsed with pain.

  “See if I can trust you,” he said, “You know… duster’s honor and all that. Seems you’re quite a sneaky one, aren’t you? But don’t worry, I respect that, I really do!”

  “Fine… it’s two.”. Talking to him was at least buying her time, time to think. And she was curious, “So, how’d you get infected? See you’re not bothering with the mask anymore.”

  “Nuh uh,” Mirko said and laughed again, though a grunt of pain cut him off this time. Harper had to force herself to remember she hit him. He was doing a good job playing past the pain, much better than she was. “How about this, question for a question… that movie star with you?”

  Part of her wanted to tell the truth, prove she still had some of that duster’s honor Mirko was talking about. It had nothing to do with morality, it was more the idea that if they both told the truth, they could be on a level playing field. Perhaps increase her chances of getting out of here alive. If only she could be sure he was telling the truth.

  “She’s… she’s here…” she admitted and Anna grabbed her arm.

  “What? No! Why are you…” Anna said, sobbing as Harper glanced into her wide green eyes. The duster mouthed a shh, though that did not silence her own guilt.

  “Tell you what, Harper! Toss her out the cover and I’ll shoot her first. Might give you enough time to run away. Maybe even shoot me. Sound fair?”

  “No, no!” Anna almost made a run for it on her own terms. Thankfully, the duster managed to grab the hem of her dress and pull her back down before her head popped out over the side of the car.

  “I can’t do that, Mirko…” Harper said, planting her hand firmly on the movie star’s shoulder, “Got a better offer for me?”

  “Fraid not…” Mirko said, sighing loud enough for the women to hear, “Guess it’s just an old fashioned duel, huh? See who can draw faster? Wanna count to three?”

  “Wait!” Harper shouted. Her eyes darted across the bay, frantically looking for a way out of this. She needed more time. “You promised a question for a question, didn’t you? So… I ask again. How’d you get infected?”

  “Oh you wanna know when I started hearing the sweet music of the web, huh?” Mirko said, “Was a long time ago, that. My first job out here, actually.”

  “You’ve been out here this whole time? Months? Years?”

  “Not exactly, dollface,” Mirko said, “Killed my old crew and went home after. Makes me quite a valuable asset, actually. Don’t gotta worry about the dust no more, willing to do anything… happy to do anything in fact. That’s why I jumped on this job.”

  “That’s… impossible..”

  “Well you best believe it,” Mirko said, cocking his revolver, “I’m probably the only slayer like this… though hey, I got my suspicions about some of those cartel types!” He laughed at his own joke then said. “Come on… that was worth a chuckle at least, why you holding out on me?”

  Despite how crazy his story was, it made sense. Mirko had practically confessed what happened earlier. He was the one that sabotaged the ship, he was the one to cause the crash. If he was a slayer, he'd have gotten quite a kick out of killing so many people. Was probably hoping to jump out on his dust car before the ship crashed. Or maybe the crazy prick just didn’t give a fuck if he lived or died.

  The dust car… Small ships like that needed a quick release for emergencies. Harper glanced at the rearview mirror of the small flying machine. That’s when she saw their chance to escape. She gently pulled on the car door, confirming it was unlocked for a quick escape as she suspected. Then, she pulled Anna in close and whispered in her ear: “When I say go… get in the car. Trust me. Please…”

  “What?” she said with a whimper, but Harper was adamant. “Just… trust me… Got it? And buckle up.”

  “Well, as nice as it’s been to talk, what’s it gonna be Harper? We doing this thing?”

  “Listen, Mirko! I’ve changed my mind. You can have her. I’ll run to the left, she’ll run to the right. Got it?”

  “Sounds good to me Harper,” Mirko said after a moment of silence, “Gotta say I’m itching to kill you both. Take it as a compliment. On three?”

  “On three,” Harper said, “One, two… three! Go!”

  Harper dashed to the right as Anna opened the door to the dust car and climbed in. Mirko jumped immediately, and both dusters fired at each other.

  Harper had miscalculated. She never expected Mirko to keep his word, morbid as it was, figuring he’d have taken the first chance at killing the duster rather than the unarmed starlet. But his gun was pointed to the right side of the car right away. Or perhaps, he had just seen through her own ruse.

  Out of the two bullets Mirko fired, one lodged itself in her arm. She felt the impact, but no pain. The adrenaline would not let her. She didn’t even look as she switched hands and squeezed out the last bullet of her Zaykov with her middle finger in Mirko’s general direction.

  She didn’t need to hit, she just needed him to take cover a moment longer. It worked… she had enough time to slam her bloody left hand into the faded red button on the wall.

  The floor beneath creaked and shook for a second. Then opened up with a metallic crack. The ruined dust car, dropped as Anna screamed, but the fall wasn’t long. The starlet shook on the impact, but it was nothing compared to the earlier crash of the Siegfried. Dazed, but alive, she unbuckled herself and crawled out of the car.

  Mirko jumped out from behind cover, his final bullet in the chamber ready for his next kill. But that is where it stayed as the ground opened up right in front of his feet, nearly causing him to lose his balance. Harper dropped, jumping onto the roof of the car, grasping her bloody right arm with her four-fingered left hand. The Zaykov bounced off the roof into the dust below.

  “This way…” she said, tapping Anna’s shoulder with her bloody hand then returning it to her own arm, gripping tightly. Mirko swore, taking aim from above as the two women ducked between the trees. But he could not risk missing the last bullet. He jumped down and gave chase.

  The pair ran through the small jungle, retracing the steps she had taken with Payton. Blood loss, shock, and exhaustion slowed down all three of them as they stumbled over roots and branches.

  But the slayer was still the fastest. He was gaining quickly, but not quick enough to get a shot clear enough to risk his final bullet.

  Harper and Anna broke free from the treeline, so close to their savior. And yet now, they were clear targets with no cover. Harper waved her left arm and yelled. For the first and likely only time in her life, desperate for Walters to look at her.

  “Covering fire!” she shouted. She couldn’t see what Walters was doing back there. Couldn’t see Mirko breaking the treeline and taking aim.

  But in a second, a barrage of machine gun fire from the Hail Mary’s Macher hit the trees behind the duster and the movie star. She didn’t see if Mirko was hit, but she saw the final bullet from his revolver ricochet off the railway.

  A short run later, a push through the door and a climb up the warehouse stairs, and they were at the Hail Mary. Harper’s face pale from blood loss, fear and adrenaline, just about ready to pass out, Anna’s bare feet cut up from branches and metal. But they made it.

  The door was open, they pushed through the wind of the back vents into safety. Walters took Harper by the arm and guided her to the seat. “Shit, kid you’re bleeding… Where’s Payton?”

  Harper shook her head. “I’m sorry… Get us out of here Walters. We need…”

  She slumped into the seat, trying to keep her eyes open. And that was all Walters would hear of the death of his boss. Despite everything foul Walters was and everything noble he failed to be, he was a damn good duster and a damn good pilot. He always knew that when this day came, he’d likely need to wait and say his farewells days and miles later.

  “We’ll get you patched up kid, don’t worry.” Finally getting a good look at the other woman, his small brown eyes wider than they had ever been before.

  “Is that… Anna fucking Cloude?”