Last Ranger (9 page)

“You know it ain’t that easy sugarlips,” one of them said, rising up and swaggering around waving her antenna. “We
all
gets to share. This here sisterhood is a de-moc-ra-cy. I say it would be more fun to roast the son-of-a-bitch. We ain’t roasted
no man for a long time now.”

“Roast your clit, Rose Spike,” Raspberry snarled as she kicked out a leg and tripped Stone down on the ground like one might
trip a calf in a rodeo. So unexpected was the move that Stone went down, though he was able to stop himself before he hit
hard with his arm and thigh. The camp filled with laughter and his face turned bright as a baboon’s rear end, though none
could see it in the waves of light and shadow from the fires.

“Don’t you just wish you could,” Rose Spike said, reaching down to the seat she left and grabbing a bottle which she broke
against a rock. Holding the antenna in one hand and the ancient jagged-edged Ballantine bottle in the other, she came forward
in a crouch.

“You stay down there, man,” Raspberry commanded Stone, and she kicked him in the side to let him know who was boss. Stone
pulled back a few feet and looked around but the number of them with pistols drawn and knives out just waiting for him to
try something quickly dissuaded him from the idea. Raspberry reached inside her jacket and pulled out a pair of nunchakus
and began whipping them around in a blur.

“You bin’ asking for this for a long time,” Raspberry said, circling around her adversary. “I bin’ lettin you get away with
a lot of shit ‘cause you and me used to be tight. But lately—you a superbitch. So let’s get it on, woman. Do your best.”

“Sugarlips, you’re about to lose your sweetness,” Rose Spike laughed and slashed out suddenly with the antenna. The thing
zapped out like a fencing épée so fast Stone could hardly see it, but Raspberry’s nunchakus moved just as swiftly and slammed
the antenna away. Rose Spike slashed out with the broken bottle from the other side and the swinging wooden sticks ripped
into the bottle. It exploded in Rose Spike’s hand, making it turn bright red as the glass dug in.

“Oh, hurt your widdle hand,” Raspberry mocked the bigger but older and slower woman.

“Not as much as I’m going to poke holes in that pretty little body of yours, bitch,” Rose screamed out. She flicked out with
the antenna again and again, jumping all around. She was good—and a few of the slashes hit into Rasp-berry, making her wince
with pain though she didn’t emit a sound. Each spot the antenna struck a red welt appeared and blood oozed out. But she was
able to shield her face until Rose Spike faltered for just a second and stepped back to regain her balance.

It was Raspberry’s turn. She came in swinging the nun-chakus like a propeller blade and drove her adversary straight back
about ten feet. Then she flipped one end of a stick up and the tip slammed right into Rose Spike’s left eye. It ripped the
whole orb right from its socket and sent it flying through the air in a spray of red that gushed out from the hole. Rose let
out a scream that everyone in camp heard, heads rising out from beneath the car window homes to see what the hell was up.

Rose Spike clamped both hands over her face, letting the antenna fall, as if trying to stop the stream of red that was pouring
down her face, neck, and black leather clothes. “My eye, my fucking eye,” she screamed. Suddenly she turned and ran right
through them, stumbling over things, screaming every inch of the way before she disappeared into the shadows at the edge of
the bonfire’s light.

“I told her not to eye my men,” Raspberry said to the onlookers. “So she lost one of her eyes to even do it with. Now she’s
a cyclops. Once more—she’ll be a noclops.” She laughed loud at that one. And about half the others joined in. And Martin Stone,
lying on the ground, wondered just what he had had in mind when he had rescued her. He should have tied her up and handed
her over to the Jalopios. They obviously knew how to deal with women such as these.

“C
OME on man,” Raspberry said, lifting Stone up by the hand until he was standing. Before he could move an inch she had slapped
some cuffs around his wrists and pulled him off like a bound calf heading for the slaughter. Other Ballbusters went over to
the great mud phallus and began shooting away at it to relieve frustration. She led him about a hundred feet into the shadows
until she came to her own little bit of heaven dug into the earth. She reached down and pulled on the handle of the door entrance
and lifted it up and back.

“Down man,” she said, apparently in no mood for bullshit. Stone leaned over and found the top rung of a ladder that led down
and climbed in. It was amazingly warm inside considering the chilly temperature outside as night fell. Raspberry followed
right behind, closing the door of the place as she came down the ladder. She walked around him and lit a wax candle in the
center of the dirt room, sending out a shifting curtain of yellow light. It was cozy down here, just the opposite of what
Stone would have expected Raspberry to own. Frilly bedspreads and lacy curtains were draped all around the circular dugout
home about twenty feet in diameter. It looked more like a New Orleans brothel than the dirt home of a biker queen.

“Like it?” she asked as she undid her jacket and threw it to one side.

“Lovely, lovely,” Stone answered sarcastically, though he did admire the placing of two car windshields side by side to form
a huge skylight overhead through which one could see the stars coming out as the high thin clouds melted away. “Place like
this with a view and all must go for at least $100,000, ten percent down, right?”

“Built it for two dollars—that was to pay Big Tits for some of these satiny things she had found a box of. I like it to be
soft and cuddly when I’m in-ti-mate.” She looked deeply at Stone and he sighed as she ripped off her sweatshirt underneath
the jacket and two melon-sized breasts swung out into view, stiff nipples pointing right in Stone’s direction. He gulped hard.

“Listen Raspberry, my dog, he’s on the back in one of the steel boxes. You didn’t see him—he’s covered up. But I’m worried
about him. And if some of the others—not your friends of course—found out there was a male dog around—you know what I mean?”

“And you’re right about that. Males of any species are never allowed in camp except for breeding or eating purposes. They’d
make dog food out of him fast.” She tore back up the ladder, opened the door at the top and yelled something out. One of her
lackeys went running off into the darkness.

“It’s okay now,” she said, sliding down the ladder. “The bike will be put next to my other war bike. She will guard it. None
will dare touch it.”

“I thought your cycle got taken out there in the combat zone,” Stone commented as she walked over to him with a come-hither
look in her eyes, her bare breasts shining in the candlelight, wearing only the skimpiest of panties. These women were completely
and certifiably schizophrenic, Stone was one hundred percent positive about that.

“That was my scouting bike. My war bike—that’s here. No one gets near that. That’s why I know they won’t do nothin’ to yours.
You saw what I did to Ms. Spike tonight. They don’t mess.”

“I bet they don’t,” Stone said softly. He was thinking again about going for his guns, which were inside his jacket, difficult
to reach the way she had him cuffed.

“Now don’t you worry about that silly bike of yours,” Raspberry said, coming up close to Stone until she was only inches from
his face, her nipples touching his jacket. She took out both of his guns and placed them on a shelf, then turned back and
up against him again. “Worry about pleasing
me.
’Cause when I ain’t pleased, you can see what happens, can’t you?” Stone wasn’t sure he liked where the conversation was going
or not, though his hands had the strongest urge to reach up and grab a palmful of the perfect breasts that swung before him,
daring to be touched, begging to be touched.

Suddenly she reached out and tripped him backwards. The woman was as fast and strong as many men he’d fought. Stone fell backwards,
bracing himself for the hit. But when he landed it was onto the soft velvety spreads and pillows all around the place like
some sort of Hugh Hefner bargain basement. He prepared himself to kick up as she attacked but she was down on top of him before
he could make a countermove. And she wasn’t exactly in an adversarial mood.

She was all over him like a living eel, squirming and rubbing against him, cooing in his ear and licking at his neck and face.
She undid his pants and pulled them down and Stone was immersed in a state of mental, emotional, and hormonal flux. He didn’t
know whether he was going or coming.

“Oh you are a man, aren’t you,” she said when she had exposed him to the elements.

“Last time I looked,” Stone replied. She didn’t answer as her mouth was stuffed with something that made it hard to talk.
Stone groaned and arched his back as she swallowed him down. He had such mixed feelings about the whole thing that had he
been given the choice he might have just gotten up and walked out. But he wasn’t being given any choices. And the male organ
has a will of its own. Against his mental commands it began to grow under her lips and tongue and soon filled her, driving
him to the brink of madness.

“I want you now,” she moaned out. “Maybe you’ll be able to satisfy me as none of the others have. Maybe tonight.” She brought
her body up to his hips and straddled his flesh pole. She guided it into her sex, not even waiting to go slow or any of that
stuff. The staff disappeared all the way to the hilt and she slid down, her legs as wide apart as they would go atop his arching
pelvis. Stone didn’t know where the hell he was—he just knew the thrustings of two animals locked in pure passion. Her body
was like heaven, or a close approximation thereof.

They went at it like writhing things for many minutes, and then she was going crazy riding atop him like a bronco. She made
a wild cat-like sound and threw her head back, letting out with a long high-pitched wail. Stone reached his peak just a second
later and pumped up hard into her, making her rise right up into the air. She quivered all over, her eyes closed, and made
mewing sounds as he poured all that she had stirred up from his depths into her deepest burning parts. Just as Stone’s eyes
rolled back in his head he swore he saw faces peering down through the window ceiling above them. But then he was lost again
in the grasp of her womanliness, her doe-like sounds as she gripped him tight.

When Stone awakened he knew it was very late. He had that dull throbbing headache and tired eyes that felt like they were
glued together, which meant it couldn’t be past three. He heard her voice whispering in his ear, making him come out of his
languorous sleep.

“Up, you’ve got to get up now. They’re coming to kill you, Stone. And I won’t be able to stop them. Ordinarily I would kill
you myself. As you might have guessed, we take out the men we drag in after their usefulness is over. But
you
—you satisfied me. I can’t kill you and destroy any chance of ever having it again. You’ve got to leave now.” She helped him
put on his pants and then hesitating for a second she took out a key from a shelf and undid the cuffs. “I know you could kill
me for all this,” she said, handing him his guns. “But I’m taking a chance.”

He gripped them looking at her hard, and then slipped them on. “Why should I hurt you—you satisfied me too,” he grinned, leaning
forward and kissing her. “You might have been a little less insistent—but I guess that’s the way it is with modern girls.”
Suddenly there were faces above them again and still naked-as-a-jaybird Raspberry ripped a shotgun from the wall and fired
straight up into the glass, sending it flying, and the faces that had been staring down flying for cover.

“Out this way, they won’t look for a few seconds.” She lifted a flap of material from the lower part of the rounded dirt wall
and Stone saw there was a tunnel. “It goes about a hundred feel straight back. Circle around to the right once you get out.
Your bike is there. Good luck Stone. If we ever meet again I want your body—and I don’t mean dead.”

“It’s been interesting,” Stone replied, getting down on his knees and starting into the tunnel. “I’ll send a postcard.” Then
he heard voices and a commotion behind him and moved down the mud-caked tunnel as fast as his hands and knees would carry
him. He came out on the run and went right around to the side using trickles of light from the fires to make his way. He could
see them all running from around the camp to Raspberry’s window on the world and there seemed to be fierce hand-to-hand fighting
going on between all the “girls.” Whatever power struggle had been brewing had clearly just gone over the edge.

He spotted the bikes parked together—his at the end next to what must have been Raspberry’s war machine by the size of it,
even larger than Stone’s with all kinds of firepower poking out. The woman who had been sent to guard Stone’s bike was taking
her duty seriously and patrolling around the thing with a handgun dangling at her side. Stone didn’t want to hurt her. She
had after all been doing him a favor. He picked up a pebble and threw it a few yards to the right. She came to investigate
walking around the bikes holding the pistol at waist level. The moment she walked past him Stone jumped out and grabbed her
around the neck. He put on a quick choke hold, applying it for only four seconds, ten could kill. But four would put her out
for a few minutes.