A northward wind blew, cooly kissing the bare neck of Idalia. She shivered as she looked down at the whimpering man in front of her. The wind picked up the iron sands of Mars and the pink-red dust twirled about the two people. The man was bound and gagged, propped up against a half-collapsed wall of brick and mortar. Stretching around them were miles of uninhabited desert wildlife. Rock outcroppings dotted the landscape. Pale green sage-brush, and other strained life, quickly becoming harder to spot as the sun drifted and settled. The man, Ross? I think that’s what it was, kept whimpering. A low whirring noise caught her ear and Ross’, evidently, as he began making even more noise. Idalia leveled her revolver at him and he quieted. She closed her eyes and listened.

She turned toward the direction of the noise and opened her eyes. Bright lights broke over the horizon on the other side of the wall. Two miles away, Idalia thought. She went back to her prisoner and grabbed him by his shirt’s collar and hauled him closer to the wall. She hunkered down with him and they sat in silence. The muzzle of her revolver pressing into his neck. She could feel Ross’ pulse reverberate through the gun. His heart was pounding and sweat rolled down his face. But he was silent. Idalia was calm and listened.

The noise of the engine grew louder until it was upon them. The lights silhouetted the wall and the two of them were cast in a deep shadow. Music was blasting from the hover car as it passed by them. A couple of people were hanging out on top shouting and laughing, unaware of the Idalia with her gun trained on a man. One of the persons threw something overboard with a big yell. The object landed and bounced and skidded along the ground, kicking up a tiny trail of dust behind it until it came to a rest not too far from them. The vehicle eventually faded into the distance until it disappeared over the horizon, Idalia’s eyes, brown flecked with green, never wandered from it until it was surely gone.

She stood, removing the gun from Ross’ neck, where a red indentation had left its mark. She bent over and undid his gag and his words immediately began pouring out.

“Please! Please! Oh, Jesus. Let me go! I-I-I don’t know what I did. I don’t know who put that bounty on me! This must be some mistake. Please!” Idalia eyed the desperate man as she holstered her gun on her hip. He was middle-aged with grey-brown hair and a hairline that was receding. He was shorter than her, too. She could tell back when she nabbed him at the warehouse. He was pleasant looking. Nothing too great. She withdrew a few items from her pockets. A pack of cigarettes, her gold inlaid, silver lighter, and a holographic projector cleverly titled a holojector.

She lay out her jacket on the ground and lay out the items. Ross was still stammering. “I can get you money. You’re a hunter right? You must be.” He laughed nervously. “Anything less wouldn’t make sense. Bu-but I have it. Money I mean. A lot of it. I-it’s all yours if you just untie me and let me go.” Idalia took the display and flicked it on. A bright blue light came on and projected an image of a middle-aged man with a receding hairline. She read through the information. Oh, his name is Patty. She angled the projector to face Patty causing him to so stop talking.

“Is that you?” Idalia asked in a clipped fashion. Patty nodded. “You killed those people.” Patty didn’t move.

“N-no! I’d n-n-never do that! You have to believe me!” Idalia shut the holojector off and pocketed it. She took the pack of cigarettes and took two out. She proffered one to Patty and she lit the other in her mouth. Patty nodded and she stuck it in his mouth and held her lighter to it. The open flame cast an orange glow on Patty’s face as he puffed on the cigarette, helping it come alive. They stood there in silence for a time taking long draws on their cigarettes. The smoke crawled upwards into the sky. Idalia stared up at the bespeckled night sky. Satellites coasted in inky blackness and ships sailed overhead, unaware of the hunter and the prey smoking together.

Idalia heard a slight sizzle. She looked back down at Patty, the cigarette had fallen from his lips and into the rusty sand. He was sobbing silently. Tears streamed down his face and mucus from his nose. “Please. Fuck. Please don’t do this,” he sniveled and groveled up at Idalia. “I…I don’t want to die. I just don’t.” He craned his neck and looked up at her with big, wet eyes.

In one swift motion Idalia drew her revolver from her hip, pulled back the hammer, and shot Patty in the head. Brain matter coated in red blood blossomed from the back of his head and splattered on the wall behind him, splaying out in a kaleidoscope of grey matter. Idalia lowered her revolver, retrieved her jacket, scanned Patty’s body with the holojector, and left.