Bask and Sting

Effortlessly, with one final brush stroke, his greatest masterpiece yet was complete. The sun spilled its most resplendent colors over the edge of the Great Desert, most prominently a deep shade of red. A wide smile cracked his face, as he admired his work. The dark fell fast, so he grabbed his work and scuttled back home, skating across the sand. When he had reached it, the moonlight illuminated his home. A glow flickered from inside, and he could hear his wife, Georgette, idly talking at their son, Ernie.

“How’d it go, my dear?” asked Georgette, seeing her husband, Spikes, enter the rock they called home. Spikes excitedly flashed her his painting, and she stroked her long, reptilian chin. “I like it! Is this a seller or a keeper?” Spikes smirked.

“As much as I love it, I think we need the gualen.” Ernie did his best to lightly clap at the picture. At just a year old, words weren’t his strong suit. Spikes, amused, snatched up his son and held him. “To raise this here rascal.” Georgette carried over their dinner, large, cut carrots with a side of cactus, so Spikes plopped Ernie back in his chair and sat down himself. The space was small but cosy. Spikes, being the tallest one in the family, ducked so that his spines didn’t catch on the ceiling. “You think they’ll like it?” Georgette smiled at him.

“Of course. You basically have a monopoly on art in the village, dear.” Spikes smiled.

“You never know. Wyatt may catch up. He’s been practicing his drawing skills. I’ve seen some of his stuff. True potential there.” Georgette fed Ernie a mouthful of cactus, and Spikes stuffed his face with carrot. He peered up to see a concerned look in his wife’s eyes and cocked his head. She sighed.

“C.J. Riley came in today.” Spikes’s stomach churned.

“Did you tell him I’m not interested?” Spikes stuffed more carrots into his mouth, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“I tried, but he left a gun here, a revolver.” Georgette pulled a black handgun from under the table, and Spikes winced at it. “He wants you to meet him in the training field behind the jail tomorrow.” Spikes stood up.

“I’m not shooting anything. I may be the only male in this village who’s a pacifist, but holding violence invites violence.” Georgette attempted to sit him back down.

“I know, my dear. I told him you weren’t going to go. I didn’t want to bring it up, but I thought you should know.” Spikes sighed before seating himself back down. “I know you have your code, but being able to protect yourself isn’t the worst thing.” Spikes glared at her before sucking up his pride. He knew how much she cared about him. “I’ll put this by the front door so C.J. Riley can take it back next time he visits.” Spikes nodded.

Spikes and Georgette slept on a long boulder in an adjacent room with Ernie on the soft sand next to them. Their tails hung off, but they no longer minded. The only noise that hung in the air was Ernie’s gentle snoring. All of a sudden, an earth-shattering explosion shook the home. Ernie cried, as his parents shot upright.

“What was that?” asked Georgette.

 “Not good,” Spikes spat as he rushed to the rock’s doorless entrance. He peered outside to see his neighbors and friends screaming and running on their Main Street.

“What’s going on?” his wife demanded, holding Ernie firmly in her arms.

“Stay here,” ordered Spikes. “I’ll go see if anyone knows. Whatever you do, don’t leave.”

“What about you?”

“You know how fast I am.” Spikes sped out the door and passed the other screaming lizards. He kicked up sand as he dashed for the training field. He didn’t agree with their methods, but if anyone would know anything, it would be them. The village scouts were always camped out there. As he dashed towards the small jail, he had a horrifying realization. The jail and everything in the immediate area were on fire. Spikes slowed to see a nest of massive scorpions washing over the village like a black ocean. Gunshots fired in the distance, and they were as loud as the screams.

“SPIKES!” He spun around to spot the buff C.J. Riley limping towards him, each hand with a revolver.

“What’s going on?” Spikes supported C.J. with his body weight.

“They took out camp!” The scream shook Spikes’s eardrums.

“Can you stop screaming?”

“Sorry! I can’t really hear right now! I need you to do me a favor! Carry me!” Spikes turned his head at C.J.

“You can’t fight them! All you have is two revolvers!” Spikes insisted. C.J. scoffed.

“It’s not what you have but how you hit ‘em!” C.J. winked at Spikes, and he scoffed.

“There has to be a peaceful way to end this,” Spikes said. C.J. Riley laughed at him. “I told you having weapons was just inviting violence!”

“Or we just aren’t prepared enough!” Spikes rolled his eyes and dropped C.J. who plopped to the ground.

“Hey! Get back here you pansy!” Spikes was already gone, running right for the nest of scorpions. His heart pounded in his chest, as he devised a plan. He raced up to the nearest scorpion and stopped in its path.

“Who is your leader?” he demanded. The scorpion, not knowing how to respond, stared at the lizard. “I wish to discuss peaceful terms.” The scorpion bellowed a laugh and shot down its stinger. Spikes dodged out of the way and ran under its enormous belly. Hyper-focused on the lizard, the scorpion flipped onto its back and clawed at the air. Spikes deduced that the other scorpions would react similarly unless he found their leader himself. He quickly scanned the sea of scorpions and saw one larger, and thus older, than the others. He figured that a more experienced arachnid would be their commander. The nest formed an impenetrable wall down Main Street, but Spikes spotted a way around it. Towards the back of the group, the large scorpion barked orders.

“Keep pushing! No mercy!”

“Um, excuse me, sir!” Confused, the arachnid pivoted to see a lizard behind him.

“How? What the?”

“Hello, my name is Spikes Loka. I’m an...um...ambassador for Lagar Village. I want to discuss a peace treaty.” Spikes held out his hand. Amused, the scorpion bellowed a laugh and shook it with his claw.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lord Nepa, and this is my Nest. We’re here for your village.”

“Well, uh, nice to meet you Lord Nepa. Is there any middle agreement we could come to? I’m sure we don’t need such a bloody battle.” The scorpion laughed harder, never seeing anyone try to reason with him like this before. Lord Nepa swiped fast and caught Spikes in his large right claw.

“How about your delicious head on a platter? Does that sound okay?” Spikes held his neck, trying to breathe.

“I’m sure we can come to a non-violent agreement,” Spikes choked. Lord Nepa threw him onto the sand, and Spikes felt his rib cage almost give out. He coughed hard, as he picked himself up off the ground. “Please, listen.”

“Okay, fun time is over.” That was the last thing Spikes heard before everything went black. When he came to, the harsh desert sun pierced his eyelids, yelling at him to arise. His arms and legs were weak, but he managed to stabilize himself. Spikes peered out over the destruction. Smoke gently rose from where the training ground used to be, and most of the other buildings were destroyed. It seemed that the tavern, greenhouse, and alley of rock houses were the least affected areas. One burning thought rose in his head: Georgette and Ernie! Spikes rushed back towards his home, passing dead friends along the way, including C.J. Riley. He burst into his rock and banged his head.

“Georgette! Ernie!” he cried in desperation. His place was overturned, and food was cast about. When he found them, he fell to his knees and cried. In one night he had lost everything. His family. His village. There was just one thing he didn’t lose that he despised: the revolver. It lay there, mocking him from across the room. His depression turned to frustration which led to hatred. In his mix of emotions, he crawled his way over to the gun and gingerly touched it. Spikes drew back his hand like it was on fire. This thing had caused all this! Or had it? Maybe he wasn’t prepared enough. This last thought ate at his stomach and caused him to writhe on the floor. He let guilt rise within him and take control.

Spikes rose to his feet, his legs shaking, and peered down once again at the weapon. Once again, he gently grasped the gun, but he instinctively threw it outside. He turned away from it and back to his family. Spikes held them in his arms until it grew dark. Solumnely, he clawed a grave in the sand and brought them out back. It was customary to burn the body of the dead to make them one with the sands, but Spikes wasn’t ready to let go yet.

He didn’t sleep that night. The town was quieter than usual, and he didn’t understand why the scorpions left or had come at all. He was beginning to understand that he’d either have to face Lord Nepa again, or he’d have to run away. But where would he go? This was the only well he knew. When the ugly rays of the day came back to mock him, Spikes rose to see something else staring at him: the revolver.

“Get out of here!” he yelled at the gun. “No one needs you!” The gun wasn’t about to move, so Spikes jumped up and threw bits of his old kitchen table at it. Unsatisfied, he marched up to it and picked it up. “You think you’re being funny, do you? Laugh it up! Laugh like everyone else!” He paused. It suddenly dawned on him that he had been holding a gun longer than he ever intended. He broke his code.

Spikes fell to the ground under the weight of everything and held the weapon in his hand. Using it was now not beyond his realm of consciousness. He thought of avenging the village, of avenging the family. The potential power of the weapon frightened him, and he dropped it again. But, one thought stood out amongst his others.

“But, don’t I have the right to have the power to protect myself?” Yes, as long as he only used it in defense, he would let himself use it. A ruined lizard, Spikes ignored his own previous arguments. It was always good to be prepared. Now he knew. In one swift motion, he picked up the revolver and pocketed it in his jeans. He had some errands first.

Spikes was indeed the last one alive in his village, and he spent most of the day mourning and cremating the remains. By late afternoon, he was ready to practice. He carved figures from broken pieces of the old jail and set them along a large boulder. Spikes removed his revolver from his straw-made holster and held it up to his face. He studied it to see a little blood stain smeared on its left side. Spikes figured that it could only be his family’s since he had been mourning over them before touching the gun. He sighed. His family was now tied to this gun, and he couldn’t let them down. A single tear fell down his cheek, but he focused and held the gun out straight.

“Come on, Little Red,” he decided to call the weapon, based on the little red stain. “There’s no going back now.” Spikes spent the first hour figuring out how to use the gun, fighting the recoil and learning to aim. Each loud shot was a pang on his heart and a hammer to the coffin of his “old code.” By the end of the day, he had managed to hit one of his targets. He was utterly exhausted, and even looking through the sights was yielding no results. Night fell on him like a ton of bricks, and he didn’t awake until the morning sun cracked open his eyes. Spikes refreshed himself from the well and began once more but with a newly-found purpose. He reloaded Little Red from the pile of bullets he scavenged, focused, aimed, and fired.

After another hour of practice, he was finally getting the hang of Little Red. He put ten wooden figures in a row out to practice, and by hour two, he had shot six in one round, one for each bullet loaded. Spikes cut the figures smaller with each successful round until he was satisfied. He holstered the gun, glad that he could now defend himself. He wasn’t the best shot, but he was proficient enough. Every day, Spikes practiced and rebuilt parts of the city, waiting for the arrival of the scorpions. He wasn’t an architect, but he had an idea. It would have to work because it was his only hope of defending his village. The Nest came back a few days later.

The dark red sunset colored the skies and sands until everything bathed in its glow. Spikes marched around the village for his last watch of the evening before retiring to his rock. Even though Spikes was more alert than he had ever been, the ensuing noise would have woken anyone.

Spikes jumped out of bed, and for a minute he was back. His wife was asking what the noise was. His child was crying. His friends were shrieking. But, that wasn’t this time. This time, that shrieking was the scorpions that had climbed onto various unstable roofs and fallen onto wooden spikes. This time, he was ready. Spikes threw on his jeans, grabbed Little Red, and dashed out of his home. Although he was greeted with the sea of scorpions like before, this time they did not advance over the houses but flowed back like the tide. Behind them, just beyond the village, were more scorpions, and they were waiting for something. In the distance, Spikes could see the angered Lord Nepa advancing down Main Street. Spotting the little lizard, he shrieked at his Nest to corner him. Within no time at all, Spikes was surrounded by a black mass of angry, smelly scorpions.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite ambassador, Spikes,” said Lord Nepa. “Do you want to try another peace treaty?” They all burst out with laughter, their leader laughing the hardest. “Because you amuse me so much, I’ll let you go. But, if you stay, well, our new colony will run you over. Your choice.” Spikes peered back at the group beyond his village before grabbing his gun from the holster. “Oooooooo! Peace man’s got a gun! So scared!” The Nest mocked Spikes, but he didn’t back down.

“You killed my family, destroyed my village. I’m not going anywhere!” Spikes rose the gun up to Lord Nepa’s head. “There’s a time and place to make a stand, and if this is the only language you speak, then so be it!”

“I’m not liking your tone, little lizard,” said the scorpion. “Someone needs to disappear.” Lord Nepa ordered the others to grab Spikes, but he acted first. Two gunshots shattered the wooden planks holding up the walls of two buildings immediately to the side of the street, and they came crashing down on top of the arachnids, pinning them. Spikes pointed the gun back at Lord Nepa, and he smiled, edging his way down. “Impressive.”

‘Come on, just a little further,’ Spikes thought. The scorpion lunged forward to surprise Spikes, but he would soon be the surprised one. Lord Nepa cried out as his weight caused him to crash through the wooden plank beneath his legs and into the ditch below.

“MY LEGS!!” he hollered. “STUPID, SANDY LIZARD!!”

“That was for Georgette and Ernie!!” In agony, Lord Nepa rose from the pit, but Spikes didn’t budge this time. The Nest was retreating and groaning, and their commander was limping. He stared at the lizard, half his size, in disbelief while holding his legs and right claw. “You want more? I’ve got a whole village to redeem!” The arachnid wanted to attack, wanted to let this imbecile know who he was messing with, but all he could do was accept defeat. Lord Nepa slunk back towards the edge of the village. “STAY OUT OF MY VILLAGE YOU CLAWED FREAKS!!!” Spikes taunted them.

“This isn’t over!” Lord Nepa yelled from most of the way down Main Street.

“You come back, and I’ll teach you another lesson!” Spikes replied. Lord Nepa and the Nest retreated, and Spikes sighed. There was no way they were coming back. They wouldn’t be prepared for whatever Spikes would throw their way. He smiled, thinking that they would be afraid of him actually firing at them. They didn’t call his bluff. His old code was destroyed by his new code, but he didn’t look back. He may have had no one, but at least he still had a village to hold onto. That was something. Spikes took a deep breath and did the only thing he knew to do when he was absolutely confused. He grabbed a canvas.