Page 43 of Gunslinger Girl

It was one of the first things she noticed as they entered the makeshift camp, set up in a sprawling graveled lot between buildings. Unlike the Reformationists’ settlement outside the city’s gates, here there were no orderly rows and pristine tents. People appeared to have set up where they fell; tarps strung between battered vehicles were the closest things to shelter that Pity saw. Exhausted eyes watched them as they passed, and everywhere she looked she saw bruises, burns, and blood.

“Mama!” Ari ran to a woman hunched over a boiling pot of bandages.

“Where have you been?” The woman stood and embraced him. “I told you to stay close.”

“I’m okay,” he said, his face half buried in her shoulder. “I took a wrong turn. They helped me back.”

With a wary look at the Tin Men with them, she released her son. “Thank you.”

“Happy to help,” Max said, though he sounded anything but. He scanned the camp, his face grim. “Who did this to you?”

“Who do you think?” Dr. Starr appeared from beneath one of the tarp lean-tos, medical bag in hand. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, and there were specks of crimson on his forearms.

Max swore.

“Soldiers in black trucks came to our town a few days ago,” Ari’s mother said. “They told us to be gone by morning. When we didn’t listen…” She spat angrily. “CONA bastards. Anyone who won’t swear allegiance they still treat like enemies. We only want to live in peace. Is that so much to ask?”

Pity felt the blood drain from her face. “CONA did this?”

“It’s not the first time.” Without prompting, Starr took Ari’s injured arm and began unwrapping the bandage. “Doubt it will be the last.”

“But why?”

“They’ve been expanding west for years,” Max explained. “Slowly but consistently. And when they come to a dissident town or settlement they want gone… well, this is the result.”

Revulsion coursed through Pity, part of her still disbelieving despite what she saw with her own eyes. It’s not like they’d feature this sort of thing on the broadcasts, though, would they? Between the displaced dissidents and the hanged men at Last Stop, she wondered what else those broadcasts didn’t show.

Max thought for a moment. “You said they were in black trucks?”

Ari nodded. “With gold markings on the side.”

Confusion replaced Pity’s disgust. “That’s not CONA military, it’s—”

“Drakos-Pryce,” Max finished. “CONA hires them. Their killers have even fewer scruples than the military. And in return for the dirty work, they get their choice of government contracts, resources—whatever they want.” The undisguised vehemence in his voice—a stark contrast to his usual demeanor—took Pity aback. “Does Miss Selene know about this?” he said to Starr.

“Yes.” The doctor dabbed some ointment on Ari’s arm. “The other medics and I have seen to the worst of the injuries, and there should be a legion of porters arriving any minute with a hot meal.”

“Can you stay, too?” Max asked the Tin Men. “Make sure the gangs don’t harass anyone else.”

One of them lifted his rifle. “We’ll keep them in line.”

“Thank you again,” said Ari’s mother. “At least there are some kind folks still in this world.”

A smile fluttered and failed on Max’s lips as he waved good-bye to Ari and guided Pity away from the camp. Sometime during the exchange, Tye had disappeared again, though she guessed that wasn’t what was distressing Max. He moved with a taut, frustrated gait, as if ready to break into a run.

“What will happen to them?” She quickened her pace to keep up. “Will they be okay?”

“Maybe.”

“Max, wait!” She grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

He slowed to a stop. For a moment, his eyes burned with glassy anger, but when they focused on her, his features softened. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… tired of seeing that.”

“We could have stayed and helped.”

“Selene will send food and medical supplies. We’d only be in the way.” He sighed. “Like Starr said, this is nothing new. Most likely they’ll patch themselves up, find a new spot to settle, and pray for a quiet year or two before CONA shows up again.”

Despite the assurances, Pity ached to do something. If only because the experience of having the world ripped from beneath her feet was familiar now and still too fresh. Thinking of Finn, she glanced back toward the camp and wondered how many people from the dissident town hadn’t made it to Cessation.