Two hours later, the glowing red and orange embers that dotted the inside of the saloon had burned down to piles of gray ash. The stench of burnt electronics, iron, and blood hung heavy in the air. A single battery-operated lantern sat in the middle of the destruction, highlighting Dobson and Misty’s battered forms as they stood side by side, looking over a curious heap of pilfered parts.

  Misty grinned like a weasel in a hen house.

  Dobson was not as easily pleased. Her customary frown had not budged even after Misty had outlined her plan. Multiple times. In fact, Dobson's mood seemed to worsen with each retelling. “Once more.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed so heavily, she felt it deep in the aching soles of her feet. “From the top.”

  “Are you serious, Dobsy? How many more times do we have to rehash this until you’re comfortable with my plan?”

  “Until I’m convinced it is without flaw,” Dobson replied.

  For a heartbeat, the pair shared a look. Misty, unable to contain her mirth any longer, threw her head back with a harsh laugh. “Without flaw?” She cackled, wiping away an imaginary tear from her eye with the tip of her finger. “Please. It’s like you don’t even know me.”

  Dobson ignored her, focusing on the supposed plan. She didn’t like even calling it that. It was unworthy of the name. Misty’s idea was less of a plan and more akin to a series of unrealistic ideas held together through sheer power, fantasy, and wishful thinking. “We take all of this,” Dobson said, gesturing to the pile of stripped parts Misty had carefully arranged near the middle of the room. “And we stuff it in the loader out front.”

  “Yup.”

  Misty was being far too casual for Dobson’s liking. Regrettably, there wasn’t anything she could do but continue to poke holes in Misty’s plan in hopes that her partner would come to her senses. Ironically, that too probably constituted wishful thinking, but Dobson had to do something. “The same loader, by the way, that’s been sitting idle outside for god knows how long. We still don’t even know if it’s operational.”

  “Ah-ah.” Misty wagged her finger at Dobson chidingly. “See, this is where you need to have faith in me, Dobsy. Florence said Stillwater shut all their remaining equipment down after the mine collapse. Meaning that the loader still runs. It just needs someone with the right expertise to come along and give it a little helping hand. A jumpstart, if you will.”

  Dobson grunted her counterpoint.

  “I will also remind you that I bypassed the safeguards on a prison train lickety-split. A simple mining loader will be a piece of cake in comparison.”

  Against Dobson’s reservations, she acknowledged credit where credit was due. “That is true.”

  “Darn right it is.”

  Not wanting to dwell on it, Dobson picked up where she had left off. “And then, if by some miracle the blasted thing is still operational, you program it to slowly start moving towards the train.”

  Misty couldn’t handle Dobson sullying her grand scheme with her pesky doubts any longer. She seized control of the narrative and finished outlining the plan with a dramatic flourish. She threw her remaining hand into the air, proclaiming, “And when the baddies see the loader coming, they’ll do the instinctual thing and shoot at it, not knowing I’ve stuffed it full of explosives. Bing, bang, boom, and the whole thing goes up in a fiery explosion!”

  Temporarily frying the dark vision of every Stillwater goon in the nearby vicinity. That part, Dobson conceded, was somewhat clever. Not that she was going to admit it out loud.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “While we sneak up on the train from behind and catch them unaware,” Dobson finished, still not convinced. She had hoped that by going over the plan final last time, Misty would realize just how terrible an idea it was.

  Alas, it had the opposite effect, and Misty replied with a bob of her head, more confident than before. “Exactly. They won’t even see us coming.”

  Dobson said nothing. Her concerned gaze slowly swept the inside of the upturned saloon, aided by the pitiful light of the lantern. It had been found amongst the bodies, along with everything else Misty had deemed worth taking. Her pile of scrapped parts sat in the middle of the floor, bathed in the lantern’s pale yellow glow. Between all of the fallen gunslingers, Misty swore she’d recovered enough combustible parts to blow the top off a small mountain. Dobson wasn’t sure which she feared more, whether the explosion would fail or whether it would work a little too well. They were underground, after all, miles and miles beneath the surface of a desolate planetary moon.

  Crushed to death underground. Not how she wanted to go.

  Misty rocked back on her heels and examined her wrist, remarking, “You’re doing that thing again, Dobsy.”

  “What thing?” Dobson countered. “Where I keep my thoughts to myself? Heaven forbid, we have a moment of silence, Misty.”

  “You don’t think my plan is going to work.”

  “I do not,” Dobson admitted.

  “Well, you got a better idea?”

  Silence spared Dobson from admitting that she did not.

  Unfortunately, her silence also said everything Misty needed to hear. “That’s what I thought. Consider it settled then. We’re doing it my way.”

  Misty stooped and gathered what she could carry from the pile of scrapped parts. She was surprisingly spry for having only one arm. Dobson chalked it up to the chemical cocktail currently surging through her system. It wasn’t just weapons and machinery they’d found amongst the dead gunslingers, but tinctures of synthetic energy, too. Like all Company Men, Stillwater’s goons were nothing but a bunch of over-juiced addicts with far too much time and firepower on their hands.

  Not that she minded. At the very least, she’d gotten another overpowered rifle out of the deal.

  Misty’s voice broke Dobson from her internal stewing. “Come on now, partner. We’ve talked the plan to death. It’s time to put our money where our mouth is.”

  Transporting the pile to the loader would take several trips. Determined to make the journey as few times as possible, Dobson reluctantly gathered as much as she could carry. She regretted it mere steps into the journey, suddenly remembering too late that she was holding salvaged body parts uncomfortably close to her face. Misty had done a decent job of stripping back the soft tissue, but scraps of flesh and ligaments still stubbornly clung to the metal. The smell was a foul mix of corroded battery acid and old blood.

  Breathing through her mouth to avoid the worst of the smell, Dobson grudgingly followed Misty out of the broken doorway and into the dark street beyond.

  Outside, the town was deathly quiet. The light tower glowed dull red in the distance, highlighting the lifeless bodies strewn about the street. Misty moved like a shadow, her boots barely making a sound as she led Dobson out across the open expanse of red sand. The loader was in the same place as they’d last seen it, utterly undisturbed by the life and death struggle taking place around it.

  Dobson set her load down and walked around the outside of the monstrous machine, checking for damage as Misty picked the locked door. Aside from some rust and a few stray bullet holes, the loader’s exterior appeared solid. Finished with her inspection, Dobson circled back around to the driver’s side just as Misty finished prying the door open. The loader’s rusted hinges screeched in protest as the heavy door swung open.

  Dobson instinctively ducked for cover. She waited with bated breath, listening for signs of the enemy. Three seconds passed, and then five, and then finally ten, before Dobson breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  “A bit jumpy, eh, pumpkin?” Misty said, clambering up inside the dark cab.

  “You should be as well, considering you just announced our location to the entire settlement.”

  Misty disappeared inside, calling back over her shoulder. “Dobsy, please. Do you honestly think the baddies are gonna leave the safety of their train to come looking for trouble?”

  Dobson gripped her rifle, unease rippling down her spine, as she gazed out across the undulating hills of sand and shadow. The company train still sat stationed in the distance, its low lights glowing like the light of an enemy’s campfire. She saw no movement. Misty was right. If there was anyone left, they were probably holed up inside, unwilling to look for trouble. Meaning, of course, she and Misty would have to bring the trouble to them.

  Bring the trouble to them?

  Dobson winced, cursing under her breath. Misty’s craziness was infectious. Half a day together and already, Dobson was losing touch with reality.