Steam Queen

Chapter 1: Erica


"Freak," the tall blonde spat.
Erica took a quick step back as the blonde took a wild swipe at the tattered brown Stetson hat on her head and gave a small shake of her head.
"Yes, I am," Erica replied. She felt pleased that the blonde and her gang had grasped this fact so quickly. She raised a hand and flipped her Stetson down off of the top of her head so that it hung down her back.
It was always the same story. Rich, full-of-themselves newcomers passing through the town often seemed to single her out to insult or laugh at.
An evil grin broke out on Erica’s face at the expressions of mingled disgust and horror that appeared on the four girls’ faces as they saw what was scrawled across her forehead in red capital letters.
FREAK.
It was what Erica was; she knew it, everybody else knew it, and Erica just didn’t care.
"You’re sick.” Blondie took a few steps back as if worried that she might catch something from Erica. “Is that... Is that blood?"
"It is." Erica reached up to trace a long, pale finger across the letter 'F'. Her smile widened at the look of disgust that appeared on the blonde and her friends’ faces.
She could tell by the look on the blonde’s face what she was thinking. Whose blood is it? Is it her own or somebody else’s?
“Want to make something of it?” Erica asked innocently.
Blondie hesitated and Erica could see that the bully recognized she was in a predicament. Does she risk tangling with Erica and possibly get hurt or does she lose face in front of her friends and back off?
Erica couldn’t help but feel pleased when the blonde took the second option.
She raised her hands to give Erica another shove in the chest. This time though Erica was ready for her. With cat-like speed she grabbed the girl’s hand, and twisted her fingers viciously until the other girl cried out with pain.
Erica ignored the girl’s whimpering as she continued to twist her fingers until they were near breaking point.
She raised her free hand to wag a disapproving finger at Blondie’s friends as one of them took a step forward. Erica lowered her hand and gently eased back the side of her tattered black trench coat to reveal the long-barrelled revolver hanging from her belt.
"Freak freak I'm unique, a saint and a sinner, a lover and a killer," Erica sang quietly, jerking the girl’s fingers with each word to make her yelp with pain. Blondie’s knees buckled and she fell to the floor with Erica still keeping a firm grip on the girl’s fingers.
Erica took a tiny step backwards as Blondie's fingers clawed at the plain white dress that she wore. The last thing Erica wanted was for the blonde bitch to put her filthy hands all over it.
"Erica!" A voice bellowed.
Erica glanced over her shoulder to see a short-, but broad-, shouldered man pausing in the street to let a tumble-weed fly past. He continued towards them, a hand clasped over his hat, holding it to his head.
"Hello father," Erica said, giving Blondie a tiny dig in the ribs with the toe of her leather boots.
"Release her," Erica’s father replied.
"As you wish," said Erica, releasing the girl’s hand who whimpered as it plopped to the floor.
She paid no heed to the whimpering girl or her three friends who darted forward to attend to her. Instead Erica turned around and smiled at her father.
Pulling the Stetson back on her head, she allowed her father to guide her away from the whimpering blonde and the simpering bitches attending her.
"What was it this time?" he asked once they were in a more secluded area of town, a blacksmith’s yard that was empty apart from a lone horse who stared at them.
"She touched my hat," Erica said with a shrug, casting a quick glance over her shoulder further down the street where Blondie was being helped to her feet by her friends.
"Dammit Eri, You can't...You can't go around attacking people like that." Her father replied, shaking his head in frustration.
Erica shrugged again. "I didn't attack her...I handed out justice." She pointed out, quite fairly in her opinion.
Her father took off his own white Stetson and mopped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
"You hand out justice a little too often, in fact many wouldn't call it justice...I mean, Christ Eri, she just touched your hat and you've gone and smashed up her whole hand."
"Yes, but it was my hat. She touched it and now she won't again," Erica had been in similar arguments in the past with her old man who, for some reason, always failed to grasp that her 'justice' was purely to stop people from upsetting her in the future.
"Eri..." Bill began. He trailed off at the sudden shriek of a train’s whistle in the distance.
"Christ, that'll be them," he muttered, pulling his Stetson back onto his head. "Jesus Eri, don't...Just don't lose your temper with Jemima, ok? She's a good woman but she won't hesitate to break you in two."
"I won't lose my temper if she doesn't do anything to annoy me," Erica replied.
Her father gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head but didn't comment further on the matter. "Come on," he said, and Erica once more allowed her father to take hold of her arm and lead her away.
This time he led her down the main street of the small country town and towards the train station. They arrived just as the mercenary locomotive was pulling in.
Erica couldn’t get enough of the locomotive as it rolled clanking and hissing into the station.
With dark red paint and gleaming brass, it had an elegant metal plate with curved letters saying, “Steam Queen”. A picture of a rather grumpy looking queen with steam coming from her ears was beneath the plate.
The train’s carriages weren't as impressive, however.
An old rusting freight wagon was coupled just behind the gleaming locomotive, behind that was a hulking, heavily armoured troop-sleeper which was followed by a rusty ill-repaired guards van with thick, armour plating on the sides.
Bringing up the rear was a short-barrelled, yet powerful, looking cannon mounted on a carriage.
It was your typical mercenary engine that could be found travelling the rails of mainland Europe, staffed by crew looking for work at many of the small towns that were scattered around the landscape.
Erica shuddered at the sight of the carriages. She just hoped that she wouldn’t have to spend much time inside the filthy things.
"Dark Red, Just like blood," Erica commented as she cast a glance over at the engine once more. Despite the ramshackle appearance of the carriages and wagons, she felt pleased that the engine itself was in her favorite color.
Her father just shook his head. "Come on," he said and Erica felt a slight pull on her arm. She obliged and followed him down to the locomotive.
"Hey Bill, been a long time," A scruffy, dark haired woman called as she leapt down from the cabin of the locomotive. She had lank greasy hair, grimy hands, and a dirty face. His arms rippled with muscles and her broad shoulders gave her a rather manly physique. On top of that she was wearing navy blue overalls covered in black patches of grease and dirt. Erica disliked her on sight.
"You must be Erica, I'm Jemima," the woman said, wiping her hands on her overalls before offering it to her.
"Blood and dirt don't match." Erica held her own hand up to reveal her palms, stained crimson with half dried blood. "I like red, I don't like black," she said.
"Well I don't care," Jemima said and Erica’s left hand shot towards her revolver as Jemima’s large, filthy hand grasped her own and pumped it up and down.
Only a quick glance at her father and the realization that he wouldn't want her to threaten the filthy woman stopped Erica from drawing the firearm.
Erica drew her hand away from Jemima as soon as possible and held it far to the side away from her body. She wrinkled her face up in disgust, feeling filthy at merely touching the woman’s skin.
Blood and dirt mixing together on the palms of her hands, the very thought of it almost made Erica feel sick. Blood she didn’t mind, blood was natural but dirt, Erica hated dirt.
"I'll get Holly to show you around," Jemima said. If the Steam Queens’ leader was disgusted by the blood on her hands or shocked at Erica’s appearance, she didn't show it.