Cassia walked confidently away from the Pathfinder across an abandoned industrial park. Despite her reservations about Mel, she was surprised to find she trusted her. Mel might actually be more than a screwup with a penchant for petty crime. And if she was wrong, the timer on the ship would bring it back with or without her.
“Looking awful chipper for someone less than a day removed from raiding the home base of interversal nutsos.” Grit sauntered alongside her with Derrick a few steps behind them.
“We got what we needed and got out. We’re finally back on track.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Derrick jogged up on her other side falling into step with the others. “What exactly are we on track for? I like to know what I’m getting into.”
“There’s something wrong with the Weave and I intend to find the Weft and fix it.” Cassia stepped around a cactus growing through the cracked earth of what was once a dirt parking lot.
“Ok.” Derrick rubbed his temples, a habit that seemed to be occurring more often lately. “You realize that was gibberish to me?”
“Get used to it, kid.” Grit was chewing a beef stick that he’d produced from God only knows where as the trio climbed over and around an out of order parking gate.
“Alright if you can’t give me a concrete answer about our long term goals, can you at least explain why we seem to be in the American south?” Derrick glanced across the street at a billboard for the Dallas Classic Car Show.
“Plenty of guns in Texas and few qualms about who buys ‘em.” Grit spat onto the sidewalk and pointed to a sign that indicated the White Rock Convention Center was two miles away.
“I imagine you’d agree that we’ve been shot at enough in the past few days that some extra firepower wouldn’t hurt?” Cassia said as she shot a glance over her shoulder at Derrick. He gave a nod and shrug and the group continued on their way. About halfway to the Convention Center, Derrick pointed.
“That’s a Pizza Hut on Earth-11.” Cassia turned with a perplexed look and he continued. “I lived in Dallas on Earth-11 for a few years. Didn’t end well.”
“This Dallas is a lot different than yours was, I imagine.” Grit raised an eyebrow as he spoke. “On Earth-6 Dallas is the Capital of the United Southern States. Country is split apart here and you can bet it’s twice as dangerous.”
“Sorry, did you say split?” Derrick eyed Grit curiously as they turned a corner.
“Fragmented America is usually classified as a Major Deviation. Earth-6 is the only fragmented America in the lower 100 Earths, it’s an anomaly. So stick together and be careful.” Grit scratched Tango’s chin as he spoke.
“That’s the most I’ve heard you speak.” Cassia cracked a smile at him.
“You speak about the multiverse like a scholar.” Derrick commented.
“No, not a scholar.” Grit shook his head adamantly. “I’m a traveler. And every good tourist knows you study your destination before you go there.”
“Heads up, we’re here.” Cassia pointed out a large boxy building with a scrolling jumboscreen on the front that currently said Guns Ammo More.
“How did you know the gun show would even be running today?” Derrick’s brow was scrunched in confusion as they approached the front doors.
“Easy, it’s never not.” Cassia held her arms up to be wanded by a guard at the entrance and a moment later they were wandering the massive convention floor from booth to booth.
Cassia quickly found that the qualities that made Grit good in a firefight made him horrible to shop with. He meticulously handled every weapon and seemed to find something wrong with every seller or their wares. She couldn’t get a read on Derrick’s combat training but he certainly didn’t seem uncomfortable surrounded by several tons of ammunition. Eventually he stopped next to Cassia while Grit examined a genuine WWII Thompson submachine gun.
“At this rate, I don’t think we’ll be back when the others return.” Cassia turned to examine his expression. It was the most amused she’d seen him so far. Derrick usually kept his expression a very unsettling neutral, even under significant stress.
“They’ll either be there or the ship will be there without them. You’re right though, he’s too particular. You distract him, I’ll get us something and meet you out front.” Derrick didn’t look enthusiastic about her plan but Cassia broke off and walked quickly out of Grit’s line of sight anyways. She walked across the convention floor, getting some distance from the others to be safe. It wouldn’t take long to acquire enough guns for all of them and a proper stash of ammo to keep in the Pathfinder.
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Grit held a .50 caliber bullet up in front of his face, appearing to study it while Derrick hovered over his shoulder. Grit was actually watching Cassia slink across the convention center in the reflection of a plexiglass screen two tables ahead of him. The kids were trying to lose him. It was almost cute. He figured he’d let Cassia have a few minutes and then track her down and make sure she was getting quality gear.
“So, what do you think?” The antsy seller wouldn’t let him stall any longer so Grit decided to move on.
“Hmmph.” He tossed the bullet back and began to meander with Derrick on his heel.
As they walked silently from booth to booth, Derrick occasionally tried to cut the silence. What is that? What are you checking for? Why was that bad? Annoying questions like that. Grit gave it a solid thirty minutes before he began to really look for signs of Cassia. Fifteen minutes after that he was certain. Cassia was missing. Grit grabbed Derrick’s arm hard, startling him enough that his eyes briefly flipped from gray to blue to brown and back to gray.
“Where’d she go? Gonna go off and get herself killed because she’s impatient!”
“I uh, I don’t know! She just went to get some stuff by herself.” Derrick stammered uncharacteristically and glanced to his arm where Grit gripped it.
“Sorry, come on.” Grit let go, obviously Derrick did not like being manhandled, and walked briskly across the floor looking for a side exit.
“I’m not sure we should be here?” Derrick glanced around as he followed Grit through a back hallway that ran parallel to the convention floor. They slipped through a partition near the bathrooms and were now exploring the bowels of the building.
“Tango, scent.” The pangolin crawled down from Grit’s shoulder where it had been resting and began to sniff the floor. They followed it down the hall through a pair of double doors and through a large storage area before emerging in a darkened stairwell that seemed to lead to an emergency exit.
Grit looked up and down the stairs as Derrick examined the door.
“This is disconnected.” Derrick pointed at a wire on the upper corner of the door that had been snipped. Grit pressed an ear to the door and listened. He heard the muffled sound of voices that could be anyone but he had a good feeling about this.
“Let’s get out there then.”
“Wait, we don't even know what’s going on, anything could be out there. We need a plan.” Derrick spread his arms for emphasis.
“Plan is find Cassia and don’t get shot.” Grit pushed the door open and stepped out into the warm air. The sun was getting low and this alley behind the convention center was well shaded. All conversation stopped as the door open and Grit found himself looking at a tense situation. Cassia stood to his right, her knife at the throat of a teenager wearing a cowboy hat. To the left a group of four men pointed guns at her and quickly turned them towards Grit.
“Looks like we’ve got a little standoff, huh?” Grit drawled at them.
“We don’t have guns.” Derrick whispered from behind him.
“I’m handling this!” Cassia shouted at them as the group of four shifted their guns between her and Grit. A man with dark tan skin and a thick mustache kept his gun trained on Cassia and signaled for the others to keep theirs on Grit.
“Hombre, I don’t know why you’re out here but I suggest you step back inside.” He spoke at Grit but didn’t take his eyes off Cassia. Grit pegged him as the leader and made a microstep backwards.
“Alright, friend, I don’t want any trouble.” Grit put his hands out in front of him slowly to show they were empty, then looked at Cassia and gave a wink.
“The hell was that? I can see you, old man!” The leader turned his .44 magnum towards Grit with a sneer.
“That’s the signal.” Grit shrugged then let out a whistle and shoved Derrick back into the stairwell as bullets started flying. At his whistle, Tango sprang onto the face of the nearest gunman eliciting a scream as his claws dug into the man’s cheeks. The leader fired at Grit has he sprinted to the right and dove behind a dumpster for cover. Simultaneously, Cassia flung her knife into the shoulder of the shooter next to the leader and he crumpled to the ground without firing a shot. A bullet grazed the shoulder of the boy she was holding and she flung him to the side and dove back to Grit.
“Now what?” She shouted at him as they crouched in the garbage. Grit shrugged and pulled out his hunting knife. “This was your plan!?”
“Least I bothered to come find you.” Grit muttered and sprinted out of cover with his knife ready to strike. Tango had been flung across the alley and the man he’d been attached to was currently kneeling nursing bloody scratches all over his face. The leader of the group turned to fire on Grit but before he could a bloody hole burst open in his chest and he collapsed.
Grit stopped and turned his head curiously as a second shot rang out and the last gunman spun from the force of the bullet and landed in a bloody heap. Grit got low looking around for the shooter.
“Mr. Patterson. We cannot keep meeting like this.” Detective K’Nani’s voice sang down to them. Grit’s mouth unconsciously curled into a smile as he heard a groan escape Cassia from behind him. Grit looked up to see her climbing down a fire escape on the derelict office building that shared the alley. Above her, Grit caught the glint of a scope in one of the windows. He risked a glance back at the door they’d come through and saw it quietly shut.
“Tek. Nice to see you again.”