GUN SALAD

“We’re here,” Gunn announced. He slid from his saddle with practiced fluidity and sparked a cigar, eventually exhaling a single command:

“Charlie, catch up the greenhorns. I’m in no mood for babysittin’.”

The squad leader nodded, looking over his small cadre of soldiers with a critical eye. “As you all know, we’ve been trackin’ a Niner all morning,” he began. “Name’s Ocden Inkersoll. You may know him as the head of this here county. What you may not know is that he’s a damn, dirty embezzler. He’s been sellin’ the fruits of Drimble Enclave’s minin’ efforts directly to outside buyers in Trigger City, and it’s our job to punish him for it.”

Gunn remained silent, puffing away on his cigar as he looked down the long, steep incline leading down into the canyon below. Drimble Reservoir–the largest body of water on the range–stood to his right, stretching for miles in every direction. Birds wheeled overhead, squawking away in anticipation of whatever morsels a gang like his might leave behind.

Assuming the hunt went to plan, they surely wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Inkersoll’s a crafty one,” Charlie continued. “As soon as he caught wind of our arrival in the enclave, he left out the back way. Luckily for us, he didn’t have time to cover his tracks–we know for a fact that he’s down in this canyon. All we have to do is head down there and flush him out.”

“That’ll do just fine, Charlie,” Gunn drawled from his place by the cliff edge. “Wouldn’t want to overbrief ‘em–if they know too much of what’s comin’ I won’t be able to see how they adapt.”

Charlie turned to him and blinked, his tailored tan duster fluttering in the wind. “Sir?”

“You heard me. I’ve got soldiers to burn. What I don’t have is hardened veterans,” he explained. “Opportunities to learn on the job have been gettin’ rarer and rarer lately. So do me a favor and keep ‘em in the dark about Inkersoll’s capabilities, yeah?”

The man nodded slowly and shot an apologetic glance toward his team. “Alright. You heard him, everyone! That’s all you’ll get, so stay alert down there!”

The Czar smirked and tossed the remainder of his stogie over the edge. “I look forward to seein’ how you distinguish yourselves,” he called, watching the group of ten recruits descend into the canyon with a sharklike grin on his face. 

He and Charlie took up the rear, allowing the footsoldiers to poke around ahead of them at their leisure. As expected, their stroll down into the canyon was uneventful; the lengthy slope they trod upon was entirely devoid of dangers, though Gunn’s words had them jumping at shadows just as he’d intended. It wasn’t until they reached the bottom that certain… Peculiarities began to make themselves known.

“Puddles!” cried a bulky-looking, hot-blooded man from the front of the line. “That’s unusual! Could it be Inkersoll’s doing?”

Gunn allowed his eyes to gloss over the dozen or so puddles standing just ahead of them, doing his best to feign casual disinterest. “What, those?” he said with a snort. “We’re a stone’s throw from the reservoir. I’ll bet a dribble or two of water trickles its way down here on the regular.”

The lie prompted Charlie to frown up at him disapprovingly, but if the recruits noticed, they didn’t show it. On the contrary, Gunn’s words seemed to placate them; they wandered among the cluster of puddles without a care in the world, searching the surrounding crags and crevices for some hint of a threat.

Then, perhaps inevitably, one rookie ended up stepping in one.

WIthout warning, a tentacle of unbelievable size lashed out from the shallow depths and coiled rapidly around him. It squeezed the man violently before thrusting his broken body into the canyon wall, showering the others in a fine mist of blood.

Predictably, this threw everyone but Gunn and Charlie into a panic. Many of the soldiers tried running for their lives, disturbing other puddles in the process… And each time they did, a new  tentacle emerged to crush the offending squad member into paste. In mere seconds, over half of the unit had been eviscerated; the rest had retreated from the scene gingerly, avoiding the puddles as best they could, and threw themselves up against the nearest cliffside until the last of the blood-drenched appendages had finally receded.

Gunn laughed. He laughed hard. What a pack of morons! Like lambs to a slaughter, they’d filed right into the meat grinder all because of one offhand comment from their boss. 

As it should be, he thought, wiping the tears from his eyes. I’ve got no use for lemmings.

Charlie looked out over the crumpled dead with sadness in his eyes. For a moment, Gunn thought he might say something, but the man wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Congratulations, survivors,” Gunn said, clapping mildly. “Your sense of self-preservation is worth celebratin’. As a reward, I’ll let y’all tell me your names. If you’re lucky I might even remember ‘em!”

One survivor stopped hyperventilating long enough to cast an anxious look his way. “...Andrew,” he breathed, wiping absently at the blood that had spattered his front.

“Sarah,” said another, rising shakily from her place behind a boulder.

Two others followed suit, introducing themselves as Blah and Blahblah. They probably did have proper names, but they flew out of Gunn’s head the moment they spoke them. “Well, color me impressed! With fine soldiers like you, I’m sure we’ll have Inkersoll strung up in no time,” he lauded, picking his way across the field of bloody puddles with minimal caution. “Come along with me, now. I can tell we’re gettin’ close!”

Despite their recent trauma, Charlie and the squad’s last living members fell in line behind him. They followed the curve of the canyon for a time, plodding through the red dust that formed its bed, and kept a healthy distance from every puddle they saw along the way. After several minutes of this, Gunn decided that, now that the cat was out of the bag, there was no point in concealing the nature of Inkersoll’s power anymore. 

“You’ve all earned a nugget or two of knowledge, I reckon,” he said cheerfully, his eyes never leaving the trail of bootprints left by his elusive quarry. “I don’t mind tellin’ you that Inkersoll is–or was–one of the most powerful members of my inner circle. He’s got a weird, ugly-lookin’ weapon called Krakshot that fires gouts of water… Only that water ain’t regular water. The puddles he leaves behind are shallow, but for whatever reason, the tentacles of some great, deadly sea monster always come flailin’ out of ‘em the moment somebody steps in one.”

The Czar shook his head regretfully. “I’ll be sorry to lose him, to be honest. Krakshot ain’t much of a boon in a straight-up fight, but it made Inkersoll one of the most effective ambushers among the Nine. Fillin’ his shoes won’t be easy… And while I’m busy findin’ another Gunslinger to replace him, his enclave’s productivity is bound to take a dive.” He heaved a sigh, then, turning his head to meet Charlie’s eyes. “It ain’t easy bein’ the boss eh Charlie?”

The squad leader just looked at him blankly. The rest of the soldiers kept their heads down, marching through the narrow canyon behind him with all the enthusiasm of a funeral procession. Gunn faced forward with a chuckle, setting his sights on the shady stretch of terrain coming up ahead. The longer this little field trip goes on, he mused, the surer I get that I’ll be heading back to Ballistona alone.

Finally, the tracks he’d been following began to trend west, leading him right up to the yawning mouth of a cave. The interior was pitch black, and Gunn could tell at a glance that his underlings weren’t thrilled about the prospect of making their way inside. 

“The lantern, Charlie?” he prompted. The silent commander unhooked it from his utility belt and lifted it into Gunn’s waiting hands, then moved to stand well back from the cavern’s entrance. The sight of such gutless caution disgusted the Czar, though he had to admit it wasn’t entirely unwarranted–after all, it would be just like Inkersoll to drop a puddle or two right inside the cave mouth.

Upon producing a match and sparking the lantern’s wick, however, Gunn quickly concluded that this wasn’t the case; the cave proceeded deep into the earth at a steep grade, making the formation of puddles impossible. Seeing this, he waved the group forward and led them down into the sunless realm ahead, trying his best to suss out any sign of Inkersoll’s passage as they went.

Deeper and deeper they delved, losing all light but the one in Gunn’s hand. After a time, he began to suspect that they were moving beneath the reservoir. Water dribbled down the walls in thin rivulets, and the telltale dripdripdrip of droplets shed from lofty stalactites filled the air.

Then, just as they came out of the narrow passage they’d been traversing into a wider chamber, Gunn was met with a sight that made even his blood run cold:

A veritable sea of puddles stretching out ahead of them, covering every inch of ground within his field of vision.