Guns of Seneca 6 Box Set Collected Saga (Chambers 1-4)

by Bernard Schaffer

  The Marshal held up his hand to stop the riders and said, "How you folks doing. Did you enter a special code to get in here?"

  The boy shrugged and said, "No, sir. We entered by the Lord's grace."

  "You wait right here." He limped up the front steps to the Sheriff's Office door and banged on it. "What the hell's the idea of leaving the gate open, Junger?"

  Walt Junger put his pen down and looked at McParlan with feigned astonishment. "Why, Marshal, you made it quite clear that my assistance was not needed."

  "This is no time for foolishness. Secure that gate."

  Junger shook his head and said, "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Marshal. This was a directive that came straight from Mayor Elliot himself. Feel free to take it up with him."

  McParlan slammed the door and searched for the newcomers but they were already gone. He ran the image of them through his mind over and over. They were dirty looking, simply attired folk, probably just trying to resupply before heading off. They had calm, easy expressions and nothing about them looked ominous. The man had been armed, but that was common enough in this area. McParlan decided he could not think of what it was, exactly, and that was enough to make him want to go find out.

  At noon, the sun was bearing down with such fury that Jem Clayton wondered if it was possible for his hat to melt. He walked through the swinging doors of the Proud Lady and was relieved to be out of the heat. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, he saw Dr. Royce Halladay sitting at a poker table, eyes half-lidded, but still upright, still drinking, and still holding his cards.

  "Jem Clayton," Halladay slurred.

  Jem put his hand on Halladay's shoulder. "You've been hitting it pretty hard, Doc. Why don't we go get some food?"

  Halladay flicked his empty whiskey glass with his finger and said, "I prefer to drink my breakfast, sir."

  "I need to talk to you. Let's get some food."

  Halladay looked up from his cards and cast a suspicious eye at Jem. "I do not appreciate your tone, Jem. The last time I checked, I was a grown man. In fact, I was an adult when you were just a whiny little brat buzzing around my office trying to bite me." Halladay leaned over with laughter and Jem had to put out his hand to keep him upright.

  Jem went to the bar to order a coffee. The men seated beside him were covered in the grime of the mines and had finished the first of many bottles they would drink that day.

  Jem looked over to see that Halladay was still playing and giving the dealer a hard time about dealing him the wrong cards. The swinging doors opened behind Jem and he heard a boy call out, "Found you, Jem Clayton! My Pa is right outside waiting on you."

  Jem returned to his coffee and sipped it. "Go away, Junior. Tell Charlie I'm not interested."

  "Coward!" Junior shouted.

  Jem turned to look at the boy, then returned to his coffee and ignored him.

  Outside, peopled stopped in the street to watch Charlie Boles kick up a cloud of dust as he stomped around, hollering, "I'm going to stand here until you come out, you yellow-bellied rat bastard!" Boles turned to face the onlookers and said, "Jem Clayton jumped me and my boy out there in the wasteland and left us to die! And now I come for him, and he's scared to show his face."

  The Proud Lady's doors swung open and Royce Halladay staggered onto the porch, grimacing at the bright noon sun. "Jem Clayton would not waste the bullets on a mongrel such as you. I, however, have several extra that I would be glad to contribute."

  "He told me to come meet him in Seneca 6 after he robbed me and stole my wagon. He left me and my boy in the desert with no food and water. You either produce him or I will be forced to seek other reparations!"

  "I seem to have room on my dance card." Halladay grinned stupidly as he drummed his holster with the tips of his fingers.

  "I don't have no quarrels with you, old man," Boles said. He moved his hand to his weapon. "I just want Clayton."

  Halladay went down the steps, "Alas, now I have one with you."

  A woman stopped her three children from walking into the sea of people, afraid of losing them in the crowd. She kept them behind her as Halladay and Boles squared off and pulled the littlest one into her wide skirt. She put her hands over the two older children's eyes and said, "Don't look."

  Charlie Boles Junior walked over to her and pulled on her sleeve. "Don't be afraid, ma'am."

  "You shouldn't watch this either, sweetheart," she said. "Stand behind me and keep your eyes closed. I will say a prayer for your daddy."

  Junior pressed the device's button with his thumb and said, "I'm not afraid. When I let go of this, we're all going to glory."

  "What did you say, dear?"

  The crowd roared as Jem Clayton came out of the saloon doors and drowned out whatever response the boy gave her. Jem Clayton called out to Dr. Halladay, "I'll handle this."

  Halladay kept his hand near his gun as Jem came down the steps and stood in front of Boles. Boles nodded eagerly and said, "Yeah, time we settled up."

  Jem lifted both of his hands to show Boles they were empty. "I will not fight you, Charlie. We had our disagreement, and it's over with. I've got too much else on my mind to worry about you right now. Accept my apology and take your boy home. You can have your wagon back, it's parked near the Sheriff's Office. I'll even take you to it."

  "Won't be no apologies," Boles said. "Draw." Boles snatched his gun from its holster and aimed it at Jem's face.

  Charlie Boles Junior tugged on the shoulder of the woman. He leaned up to her ear and whispered, "Your children are going to love it in Heaven."

  Charlie Boles started to squeeze his trigger when he looked across the street at his son approvingly, seeing that the boy was about to detonate his device. Detonate his device? Charlie thought. What the hell am I saying? He threw up his hands and screamed, "Junior! No! Don't do it!"

  Jem turned to look where Boles was yelling, but Royce Halladay shoved him out of the way and fired one bullet into Charlie Boles' stomach and a second into the center of his forehead. Boles dropped his gun and weaved from side to side, taking steps in his son's direction. He held up his hand and said, "Junior, don't do it, son. Fight it."

  The electrical charges wrapped around Boles' waist popped like blown fuses and smoke billowed out of his shirt. He let go of the toggle switch and it dangled by the wires hanging from out of his sleeve.

  "Pa?" Junior said. "Pa!"

  Charlie Boles shirt caught fire and the flames raced across his clothing and through his hair. He fell to the ground in a smoldering heap. Jem turned to look at Junior and the people around him who were too busy watching the burning body to notice Junior let go of his dead man's switch. The boy's bomb detonated and there was a flash of light that sent Jem hurtling backwards.

  18. Golgotha

  Harpe stood at a peak on Coramide Canyon and watched the scene unfold miles away in Seneca 6. It was smoky, and hard to get a clear view of any particular person, but the chaos was evident. Harpe measured the blast radius to be at least ten feet in every direction of the boy. Luckily, he'd been standing close enough to a building to take out one of its load bearing walls.

  "How's it look down there, Elijah?" Hank Raddiger said.

  "The boy's device worked fine, but something went wrong with his father's explosives. I'm hoping he goes up any second now. My word, Hank, this is the best damn entertainment I've ever had. When I give the go ahead, send them Customs boys in to acquire our package."

  A fire-brigade wagon rolled toward the site with men clinging to its side. Another truck came up behind that one, a large, industrial vehicle with heavy front end scoop to clear away the rubble of the building.

  "There you are," Harpe said.

  He saw Marshal McParlan standing knee deep in the rubble, scooping out handfuls of ash and dirt with his bare hands. The old man tossed away whole sections of wall and he dug like a beaver until a hand reached out from the rubble and McParlan grasped it, pulling with all of his strength.

 
"I hope you enjoy playing Savior, Marshal," Harpe said. He put down the binoculars and looked around the crash site. A pair of large metal beams bolted into an X leaned against the hull of the ship. "Is it sturdy enough to do what I need it to do, Hank?"

  Hank patted the crossed beams and said, "Yes, sir."

  "You'd better hope so," Harpe said.

  Anna Willow waded through the rubble of the destroyed Savings and Loan building. People were still buried beneath it. Burn victims' clothing had melted into their blackened skin. The lucky ones were dead. Anna shouted for someone to bring her more medical supplies as she dug through smoldering building materials. She stuck syringes of morphine into the necks of any patient that was still moving and was running out fast.

  There were at least a dozen dead bodies. People ran frantically in every direction, choking on smoke as they screamed for their loved ones. She tried to help them all. She did what she could.

  Marshal Jimmy McParlan dragged someone out of the rubble and stuck his fingers in their mouth to clear out the mud. McParlan couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. He pushed the person aside and dove back into the wreckage for more.

  Bart Masters ran through the smoke and started grabbing pieces of the wall at McParlan's side. "Pull, pull!" McParlan shouted.

  Water jetted at the flames from the fire brigade wagon, filling the air with moist black smoke. McParlan looked over to see Royce Halladay staggering to his feet near the steps of the Proud Lady.

  Halladay clutched his head and coughed, spraying mouthfuls of blood across the ground in front of him. McParlan grabbed him around the waist and pulled him from the fumes and dust. He dragged Halladay over someone laid out at the bottom of the Proud Lady's steps and realized it was Jem Clayton.

  McParlan set the doctor down in an alleyway away from the blast site and said, "Catch your breath." He hurried back to Jem and lifted his head to check for injuries. He looked into Jem's eyelids and saw that his eyes were rolled back in his head but he was breathing steadily. "You got your bell rung real good, I reckon, but you'll be all right," he said.

  Jem moaned and reached for McParlan. His words were garbled when he tried to say, "Another bomb."

  "What?"

  Jem pushed up from the ground and got to his knees before collapsing again. He stretched his hand out to point at Charlie Boles smoking remains and the Marshal saw packets of grey plastic strapped around Boles' waist.

  "Everybody get back!" McParlan shouted. He ran over to Boles' body and cleared away the charred fragments of shirt covering his waist. The fire had consumed most of the clothing but left the explosives untouched. McParlan grabbed the sizzling wires and started ripping them out of the packets. The metal threads and melted plastic from the wires stung the Marshal's fingers and made them blister but he kept at it until each one was cleared. "Masters! Bring me a bottle of clear liquor."

  McParlan backed everyone away from Boles' body and waited until Bart Masters returned with a bottle from the Proud Lady. McParlan grabbed the cork with his teeth and splashed liquor onto the plastic explosives around Boles' waist. "Does alcohol neutralize them?" Masters asked.

  "No," McParlan said. "But fire does." The Marshal struck a match and dropped it onto Charlie Boles' stomach. The match lit the pool of clear liquid and the packets started to crinkle and turn black.

  Someone called out McParlan's name through the thick fog. Sheriff Walt Junger emerged from the smoke, wearing a smile wider than a canal. "There's some men here who say they received your distress call."

  McParlan's look of relief turned to disgust when he watched a uniformed Customs Officer come up through the smoke to stand beside Junger. "These boys want you to go with them to discuss the situation," Junger said.

  A second Officer drove Charlie Boles' wagon up to them. There was a high-capacity rifle in his hand. Junger said, "Get in, Marshal. There's a man who wants to speak with you. He says that after you come, his business here is through."

  "I won't give up my guns," McParlan said. "We can shoot it out right here if you want."

  "They don't want your guns," Junger said. "I already ensured you would be allowed to keep them."

  "Wait a second, Marshal," Bart Masters said. "I'm coming too."

  "Like hell. Stay here and make sure this mess gets cleaned up." McParlan looked at the Sheriff and said, "God knows there's nobody else here worth a squirt of piss to get the job done. Hey, Bart?"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Make sure that sister-in-law of yours is all right."

  Anna Willow watched him going and shouted, "Marshal! Where are you going?"

  McParlan got into the carriage's rear and stood in the doorway with his hand on the handle. He turned to look back at her and said, "Time to put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt, Anna." He said goodbye and swung the carriage door shut.

  Lightning struck the side of the house so close that it woke Jem from a sound sleep. He opened his eyes to see the flash of white and blue in his room, followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

  Jem got out of bed and went into Claire's room. She was snoring gently and holding an old teddy bear that he had never seen before. The bear was missing an eye. Jem walked to his father's room to tell him that there was a storm, but the bedroom door was locked. Jem raised his fist to knock, but lighting struck again, and Jem ducked and covered his ears.

  A gust of wind knocked the front door open, and rain pelted through the screen. A dark-skinned young man stood on the porch staring at Jem. His long dark hair clung to his face in the rain and war paint dripped down toward the bleeding bullet hole in the center of his chest. "Goyathlay?" Jem whispered. "It's you."

  The Beothuk turned his back to Jem and walked down the steps into the meadow. Jem followed him through the door, calling his name, telling him to wait while lightning arced across the mountains and illuminated the valley. A campfire flickered in the meadow, surrounded by people who gathered close to the flames and tried to warm themselves.

  Goyathlay turned around in the darkness and held his hand out to Jem. Jem started to follow him but had to lift his arms to shield his face from the rain.

  Charlie Boles Junior stood by the fire, huddled next to his father. The boy's teeth chattered from the cold and he pressed himself tightly to Charlie. The people surrounding the fire looked at Jem and moved aside, making room for him. Junior held out his hand for Jem to come sit.

  "Jem!" a man's voice boomed from the porch that stopped Jem in his tracks. The voice made him turn around ever so slowly to see Sam Clayton waving at him, holding a torch. "Come back here, boy. Don't you go with them."

  Goyathlay waved for Jem to hurry, and Jem looked back at his father, "They want me to go with them. I belong with them."

  "No you don't," Sam said. "You belong with me."

  "If that were true, you would have never left. Not this place and not me."

  Sam came down from the steps, holding his torch high in the air like a beacon. "I left here, Jem. But I never left you."

  Jem awoke with a start, sitting up in his old bed at Claire and Frank's house. Claire and Anna Willow were seated on stacks of boxes and bundles of clothing that had replaced all of the things he'd left behind in that room. "Easy, Jem," Anna said. "Try not to move around too much."

  He gasped and grabbed his side, feeling like someone had smacked him with a hammer. There was a sharp pain when he tried to breathe and he felt the bandages wrapped tightly around his ribs. "How many are broken?"

  "Just a few," Anna said. "But you're going to be mighty sore for awhile."

  "I remember smoke was coming out of that boy's shirt, and I smelled something burning. Nothing after that. What happened? Was it a bomb?"

  Anna looked at Claire, and neither of them responded. "Why don't you lie back down and get some rest, Jem?" Claire said.

  "There was a woman and her children standing next to him too. What happened to them?"

  Anna shook her head and said, "We'll talk about it later."

&nbs
p; Jem cursed and swung his legs from the bed onto the floor. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe. "Where are my guns? I'm putting an end to this right now."

  "It already ended, Jem."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Claire put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down on the bed. "Help finally showed up from that crazy Marshal's useless agency. He went with them to sort it out. There hasn't been any trouble since. Now lay your ass back down before you tear something."

  "Really?" Jem let it sink in and sighed with relief. He held his side as he laid back down and said, "The signal must've worked. God damn, I can't believe it. Did they get Little Willy?"

  "I have no idea, but you are just gonna lay here and get some rest," Anna said. "Claire will cook you something to eat. You've been asleep for over twenty-four hours."

  "I wish I'd seen it when they showed up to get Little Willy. I bet he wasn't so tough then. Those Agency boys have some serious firepower. They probably just launched a few rockets at him from space and came in to clean up whatever was left."

  "It wasn't anything to be impressed by, Jem," Anna said, patting his hand. "Just two men in uniforms driving that rickety old wagon you came here in."

  "Uniforms? What kind of uniforms?"

  "Their patches said Customs, I think. They wanted McParlan to go with them, and he went."

  Jem struggled to get out of the bed, saying, "Where the hell did you put my guns, Claire?"

  The wagon ride had been uneventful. The Customs Officers ignored McParlan's questions as they rode through the wasteland. The incline grew steep, and the wagon stopped at the edge of a cliff overlooking the canyon below. "We have to go the rest of the way on foot," they said.

  McParlan saw that the other paths leading down to the canyon had been blockaded, leaving only a narrow trail that wound down the edge of the cliff. He followed the officers down to where Little Willy Harpe was sitting on a square piece of scrap metal, watching them. "Hello, Marshal."