High Noon

This is another of the Naomi Quinn stories in the Fallen Earth setting.

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For some reason the sight struck her as cliché, like something you’d see in a zombie movie. She really hoped she wasn’t about to be attacked by a horde of shuffling zombies. She’d heard rumor that there really were some and she just really wasn’t too excited about meeting them. However, a small part of her was curious to see if the real zombies shuffled at a pace slower than a walk and constantly moaned and demanded brains in the same way someone who’s hung over protests when the you introduce them to bright light.

It was a gorgeous day, a bright blue sky staking its claim over this small stretch of post-apocalyptic utopia, threatening every wisp of a cloud that dared venture near like an old man on a porch. The midday sun bathed the house she stood in front of, the steady breeze tugging at her ponytail like a bored child. It was a very large, very dilapidated house. The correct style descriptor was plantation even if there was no sign of the suggested crops anywhere near by. Likely it had been built only a decade or two before the Fall, back when the white paint was fresh, windows inhabited their slots, and the roof wasn’t caving in.

The people she tracked here had obviously picked a nice place for a headquarters. Sure, it was a little big for four people but Naomi’s best guess was that only half the house was actually habitable. It was a shame, really. If someone had a mind, they could probably bring a crew out here and restore the building, even begin a small town around it. Her circuit around the property had shown a working water pump in the back along with a garage that’d fit two Tornados if anyone could ever find two to bring together.

Tugging her hat down to shade her eyes, Naomi trudged down the short path through the lack of anything interesting to reach the front door. It’d be impolite to come in the back, after all. She’d left her horse tied up a little ways back, out of rifle range just in case some genius thought it’d be a good idea to drop her mode of transportation on the approach.

Her duster billowed behind her weakly in the breeze, doing a bang-up job at keeping the dirt off her shirt. She’d decided it was a fool’s errand to try and keep anything white when she was going between towns. Today, a dark green tank top had the honors of hugging her upper body, khaki colored cargo pants dropping down to her black work boots. She didn’t care to keep the pistols on her hips concealed, nor was she making the slightest bit of effort to hide the rifle across her back. Not that she really could, but she’d seen people try. After that, she vowed never to be so stupid.

She didn’t bother knocking, she just freed her pistols and opened the door. The hinges had been oiled recently, a feat deserving of a silent prayer. The four currently occupying the building had broken a business deal with her, holding her at gunpoint and tying her to a post five miles outside of the nearest settlement after relieving her of all her chips and merchandise. They hadn’t made a move on her pistols and thankfully she’d left her rifle on her horse, which she’d hidden before the meet. Now she meant to conclude the transaction. They took the goods so she expected payment. She knew they wouldn’t pay so she had no choice but to repossess her good. Now due to being tied to a post, she was going to demand interest.

From what she’d seen during her small amount of surveillance, her quarry liked to huddle up on the second floor of the house. Maybe it made them feel superior to actually have a second floor all of their own, perhaps they were just idiots. Either way it made things a little easier on her part.

The interior of the house was just as ragged and rotten as the exterior suggested. What little furniture remained looked as if it had been sandblasted, slopes of sand and dirt piled up under the windows with a thin layer carpeting the floor. More than half of the furniture lay in various states of ruin, the rest likely one touch away from the same fate. Footprints led through the sand all around the house signifying a high amount of traffic. Naomi took a left as soon as she entered, reaching one of the larger, main rooms.

A small sound tugged at her as she paused for a moment, ever careful, ever wary, waiting to see if there was any movement. She heard voices coming from the other side of the house on the first floor. Her pulse took it up a notch at the realization. Had she miscounted? Did she miss someone? No, no. She was very certain everyone was upstairs. A creak of the floorboards above confirmed her suspicions. That meant someone else was there, which warranted careful investigation. She moved to the door to the hallway and pulled it open.

The floor, a beautiful and rich dark wood shone as if it had just been polished. Stepping into the hallway and onto the clean wooden floor, she slid the door closed behind her with a smooth, silent click. The walls were done in a modest green and white wallpaper with vertical stripes. Two lamps hung on the wall in the hallway, one at either end, both off for the time being as the daylight illuminated everything just fine. Tasteful landscapes of distant places in rich and relaxing colors lined the wall.

The voices came from the door at the end of the hall. Slowly Naomi made her way down towards the door, which hung just slightly ajar. It was painted white to match the doorframe and lining along the floor and ceiling although she could tell it was made of fine wood beneath. As she raised her hand to open the door, her attention was stolen by the view outside. Green grass rolled along the plains outside only cut off in the distance by evergreens. A few wispy white clouds dotted the sky, doing nothing but emphasizing the blueness of the sky.

Turning her attention back towards the door, Naomi paused once more before opening it. The people speaking inside were female, their voices incredibly familiar. She couldn’t quite place what they were talking about as their voices were muffled through the door. Apprehension kept her hand from guiding the door open the rest of the way, hesitation starting to gain a stronger foothold. She knew she should know the voices, one more than the other. With a deep breath, Naomi steeled her resolve and set her hand on the door. As she pushed, the doorframe near her head exploded in splinters as the sound of a gunshot echoed through the hallway.

Naomi dropped onto the sandy floor of the hallway and scrambled for the far door. The door she had been standing at was wedged closed by debris in the other room. The sand beside her exploded as another shot narrowly missed her just before she took cover in the next room. Two more shots pounded into the doorframe as she yanked one of her pistols free and took a deep breath to gather herself. “Told ya we shoulda shot her, Bill!” shouted the man at the other end of the hallway before yet another shot tore into the doorframe.

Already expecting it, Naomi leveled her pistol and took three quick shots at the open doorway not ten feet from her as a man stepped out with a shotgun lowering. The first shot went astray, burying itself into the far wall. However, the other two found their home in Bill, his response to his companion halted as the second shot went through his elbow, the third just under his sternum. Instead he just yelled in pain and dropped his gun, collapsing and cradling his chest wound.

Quickly getting to her feet, Naomi leaned out the doorway to take two quick shots before ducking back and running across the room. She leapt over the moaning Bill, effectively ignoring him for the time being. Another three shots from her pistol caused the man at the top of the stairs to hit the deck in surprise as he shouted, “What the hell’s goin’ on down th- shi..!”

Up the stairs she went, running as fast as she could while still keeping upright. The sand on the hardwood floors made for perilous footing while on the run and she couldn’t afford to take a spill just yet. As she reached the top of the stairs, her pistol was leveled at the man who still lay prone, covering his head. He hadn’t even made a move for his gun, opting to stay out of the fight before he even got involved. She laid him out with a running kick and skidded to a stop to grab his dull yet clean revolver.

She stood and looked up and down the hallway along the stair balcony, trying to guess where she wanted to go based on sound and footprints in the dirt. The floor was much cleaner up here, although there was still a thick layer of dirt upon the floor. The chief difference was the lack of sand. Stowing the revolver behind her belt for the time being, she took two shots at the door she had come from downstairs before picking a direction and striding that way.

A small sound caught her ear, giving her just enough warning to leap forward before the wall beside her exploded out and a thunderous shotgun blast marked the fourth and final occupant. She scrambled to keep moving as she heard the pump of the shell being discharged, the wall exploding out once more above where she’d been laying. A quick crawl brought her to the doorway when the third shot should’ve come. Instead, a high-voice woman called out in a voice dripping with malice, “You a’ight out there, sweet’eart? Don’ tell me I went and killed ya already!”

Naomi took a moment to gather her breath and assess the situation. Any moment she’d have the first guy coming up the stairs, so that way was cut off. She had a woman skilled with her shotgun in the room behind her just waiting for her to make a sound, so she couldn’t run for it anyways. The upside was her merchandise would be in that room. There wasn’t anywhere else in this house they’d be keeping that kind of firepower right now. Making her voice sound casual, Naomi called around the doorframe, “Can’t we talk about this?”

“Wha’s there to talk ‘bout, sugar?” the woman asked, pumping her shotgun.

Naomi heard the soft footfalls of the woman moving in the room and adjusted position accordingly. “Not getting’ shot, for one.”

The woman laughed, “That ain’t my call now, sugar. You shoulda knocked first! It’s only polite. Ain’t tha’ right, Marco?”

The man who’d first shot at her stepped out from the stairway, rifle swinging around to point at where he thought Naomi would be. Since she hadn’t stood back up yet, his shot caught only air before she returned with three more of her own. She never had been too good of a shot but it didn’t take much skill to hit someone ten feet away. The first two bullets hit his legs, knocking them out from under him. The third caught him just below the belly button, knocking him backwards. He stumbled back and stepped on his unconscious friend, his injured leg going out and depositing him down the stairs. A chorus of loud thuds and crashes followed before all went quiet. “I don’t think Marco’s available right now. Want me to take a message?”

The doorway exploded into splinters as shot after quickly chambered shot pounded into the stud. Naomi jumped, startled, and threw herself to the side. “Ya ain’t walkin’ out of here alive, sugar! I’m gunna make sure of that!” shouted the woman, firing that cannon of hers as quickly as she could pump a new shell into the barrel.

Naomi barely avoided a shot as the woman made her way out the door by rolling onto her back. Her glasses hung askew and her duster had twisted up underneath her not letting her left arm lift all the way but she wasn’t going to wait for another chance. Shot after shot rang out from that pistol of hers until she emptied the clip, four of the six remaining bullets hitting their target in the chest as the other two went wide.

Breathing heavily, she lay on her back in the hallway and just listened to the sudden silence. She wasn’t a big fan of gun fighting. Sure she had good reflexes, the man who’d trained her at how to use a gun told her that the first day. That didn’t mean that she liked being shot at, however. Some people lived off the adrenaline rush of a fight. Naomi could really live without it.

Finally pushing herself to her feet, she reloaded her pistol before holstering it as she made her way into the room the other woman had left. Inside a crude living space had been made, likely the woman’s alone. It was safe to say she was the boss of the outfit considering the spoils of war were all piled up in the corner. Naomi’s merchandise composed the majority of the stack, horse feed and gasoline. Two things never lost their value these days, fuel and bullets.

She rummaged through the rest of the things in the room before stepping out and looking down the hall. It’d take some time to scavenge as much from here as she could before she took off, so it’d probably be smart to go pick up her horse first. They hadn’t seen anyone for miles before they arrived here so she thought it’d be safe to leave everything as she went to get her horse. Considering how long it’d take to pack everything up and how far the closest settlement was, Naomi decided to make camp there for the night. She could use the rest after a fight like that and she wouldn’t mind some extra daylight for her journal.

First, however, she had a survivor to see to. She saw plenty of rope in the last room.