by Dave Hazel
“Shut the hell up,” Mykal said but laughed with them. “Keep me covered.” He whispered. “I’m gonna see if I can get this idiot to leave us alone.” The slight ‘buzz’ in his head took him by surprise. He only had a couple of sips, but felt unsteady.
Mykal smiled nervously and made his way to Gan. His eyes focused on a big, mean looking, brawny man. Gan wasn’t as big as Towbar, but Mykal felt dwarfed nearing the round table. Gan’s men jumped to their feet. He knew he just entered a lion’s den.
“No trouble,” Mykal said and held his hands up. “Mister Gan, I would like to apologize for my friend’s statements. We don’t want any trouble. We just wanted to have a drink and enjoy ourselves for a short time and then go.” After the words left his mouth he wondered if he came across as weak for trying to resolve the situation with words.
“I want you to leave,” Gan demanded and then turned to whisper to one of his men as if Mykal couldn’t hear him. “The stranger must be terrified since he apologized so quickly.”
“Gan, please allow them to finish their drinks,” Braidum begged as he set fresh drinks before Gan and his men. “They are guests and friends of Lord Towbar. Drinks are at no cost if you start no trouble. Is that not fair?”
“Stop speaking, you bloated excuse of a barmaid.” His lips curled into a snarl. “Who are you?” His anger turned to Mykal.
“My name is Mykal. We came here with Towbar to help--”
“We do not want your kind in our abode,” Gan cut him off. His words slurred slightly.
Afraid he looked weak Mykal knew he had to stand strong.
“I demand that you and--”
“Stop!” Mykal’s sharp tone cut Gan off. He took everyone by surprise. His fury rose at the thought of the bully trying to intimidate and push them out of the tavern. “You don’t know me. We’re staying till we finish our drinks,” Mykal snarled.
“Lord Towbar said to leave them be,” Braidum reminded him, demonstrating a robust fear of Gan. He looked at Mykal and nodded for him to return to the bar. He obviously didn’t trust Towbar’s judgment of the foreigners.
“Shut your mouth, you fat toad or I will feed you to my dogs,” Gan hissed and thrust his dagger toward the jumpy obese man. “My dogs will feast for a whole month on your vast hide.”
“You shut up,” Mykal snapped. “Leave him alone.” He placed his hand on the butt of his .357 magnum. He didn’t know if the strange drink triggered the sudden aggression or if the tyrant pressed the right buttons, reminding him of a schoolyard bully.
Silence filled the establishment. It became evident no one had ever talked to Gan that way before. “You have a foolish tongue, interloper,” Gan growled but seemed to hesitate.
“Hey Gan,” Kurt called from the bar. “It’s not that he’s got a foolish tongue, he’s got a big-ass gun,” Kurt hooted as he started on his third drink. “And he’s got an itchy trigger finger too,” he giggled drunkenly and drooled some of the thick liquid down his chin. “We all do, you ass-wipe, hee-hee.”
“Kurt, shut your mouth,” Mykal shouted back without taking his eyes from Gan and his men. “Boris, shut that moron up.”
“What does he mean?” Gan asked and eyed Mykal.
“Leave us alone!” Mykal demanded and backed away.
A crazed look covered Gan’s hairy face. He nervously scratched his scraggly bearded chin. His henchmen seemed to be infected with the same agitation. “Leave now or answer to me,” he roared.
“Screw you! We’re not leaving.” Mykal’s defiance soared.
Two of Gan’s men pounded the table showing their fervor. “Leave now or you will die,” Gan snarled between clenched teeth.
Mykal snarled back. “Sit down Gan, cuz I’ll be your worst friggin nightmare. Start and you’ll never feed your dogs again.”
“Yeah, sit your ugly ass down, you back-woods hick,” Kurt yelled out, while he tried to pull from Boris. “Don’t make me come over there and bitch slap ya,” he laughed comically in his drunken folly. “Come on, I’m only playing,” he complained as Boris grabbed him and tried to pin him to the bar. “It’s the booooooze talking.”
Gan flipped his dagger, grabbing it by the blade as if in preparation to throw it. Mykal quickly raised the .357 magnum, cocked the hammer back and pointed it to Gan’s head. “You’ll be dead before it leaves your hand,” Mykal said urgently to counter Gan’s ignorance of the danger before his face.
“Don’t do it boy,” Roy Jr. warned and leveled his riot gun toward Gan’s chest.
Boris let go of Kurt, drew his .44 magnum and moved closer. Kurt leaned against the bar and didn’t arm himself.
The sudden standoff left a vacuum of sound. Seconds passed and Kurt’s drunken laughter broke the silence. “I’m buzzz-zin’.”
“What manner of silly little weapon is this?” Gan asked, but eyed the small metal with caution. “Are you bluffing?”
“Go ahead Myk, show these hicks what kinda weapon you got there,” Kurt guffawed while slapping the counter. “I wanna see the look on their faces when they mess their pants.”
“You do not frighten me,” Gan said cautiously as he stepped from around the table to make his way toward Mykal. Gan dropped his dagger to the floor and balled his fists. He looked like he planned to fight Mykal with his bare hands.
Mykal pointed the revolver to the ceiling and squeezed off a shot. The shocking explosion made everyone jump. Some spilled drinks and Braidum dropped his tray of empty mugs. Mykal glanced over to Kurt who started all the trouble to see him working on the drink Mykal left. Gan remained standing beside his men.
Mykal backed up slowly. He didn’t want to be surprised by Gan or his men. “Come on guys, let’s get outta here, this is gettin’ outta hand. Kurt! Put the damn drink down and let’s go.”
“What is this? Magic? Is your noise maker supposed to frighten me?” Gan challenged him with an intoxicated bravado. “Why are you leaving? Is this more deceit?” Gan seemed to grow angrier. He glanced at his men as if to confirm their support.
“Keep coming and you’ll see what I got,” Mykal threatened as he continued to back up. “I said, let’s get outta here,” he raised his voice. “Boris, get that drunken idiot moving. Roy, keep your eyes on these guys.”
“I’m on it,” Roy Jr. replied.
Mykal looked back to see their progress, Kurt had a silly, playful grin on his inebriated face. Kurt didn’t want to leave and resisted Boris’s attempts to usher him out. The volatile situation prevented Mykal from lashing out and rebuking Kurt.
“Hey Gan,” Kurt yelled out while Boris grabbed his arm and they tussled for control. “What the hell kinda name is ‘Gan’?” He gave a taunting jeer. “That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard. Did your momma not like you?”
“Kurt, stop,” Boris said and grabbed tighter onto his arm.
“Did you feed your mom to your dogs for giving you such a stupid name? No Boris, I wanna fight this dumb ass hick,” he slurred. Kurt giggled and stumbled while he resisted Boris.
“Are you outta your mind?” Mykal looked back, incredulous at his drunken friend’s stupid behavior.
Gan appeared to seethe with rage. “You dare to insult me? I will cut out your tongue and slap your face with it.”
“Hey Gan, don’t believe that guy,” Kurt shouted just as Boris pulled him away from the bar. “That thing only makes noise. It can’t do any harm. He’s fooling you.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Mykal snapped at Kurt’s drunken attempt to instigate a fight. “We don’t need this.”
“I think he lies to us,” Gan said and looked to his men. “I think they are trying to make us look like fools,” he added and slowly unsheathed his sword.
“Don’t do it,” Mykal warned. “We’ll leave,” he capitulated to avoid a battle since he no longer felt in control.
“Let us punish them for their brazenness,” Gan said. Two of Gan’s men drew swords, one picked up his axe that leaned against the table. The fourth sw
ung his war hammer up into his hands. It looked like a sledge hammer with metal studs around the large head. He stood the closest to Mykal.
“Stop! We’ll leave,” Mykal repeated while he backed up.
“Cowards!” Gan said and slapped one of his men on the back. “They will pay for their insolence.” He pointed his sword to Mykal. “You will make a fine meal for my dogs this day.”
At a glance Mykal watched the other patrons in the bar pushed themselves as close to the walls as possible. They feared being struck accidentally by Gan and his henchmen. Most gave pitiful expressions for they feared the plight of the four strangers. The four started trouble with the wrong group of ruffians and Towbar was no longer there to protect the odd looking strangers.
“Get them!” Gan shouted. The five rushed to the foreigners before they could get to the door.
With a squeeze of Mykal’s finger an explosion shocked the room. The .357 magnum slug slammed into War Hammer’s chin. His chin and the left side of his jaw ripped apart from his head. The round drilled through the back of his skull, jerking his head violently, throwing him to the floor. The thud of the war hammer hitting the floor had been swallowed in the ensuing tumult.
Mykal quickly adjusted his aim after the slight recoil and fired twice at Closer Swordsman. The first round punched through his stomach just above his navel and the second slammed into his left shoulder throwing him back.
While he fell, a louder blast erupted from Mykal’s right side. Boris’ .44 magnum exploded the side of Closer Swordsman’s head, the same man Mykal shot twice. The .44 slug killed Closer Swordsman before he hit the dirty floor.
From the corner of his eye Mykal saw the blast of Roy Jr.’s shotgun. Axe-man’s arm had nearly been ripped off by the first blast. With two more pumps of the Ithica 37, Axe-man’s chest had been pulverized to almost nothing. Axe-man died while flying backward. Roy’s fourth and fifth blasts showered into an open space, shredding Gan’s legs when he tried to turn and run away.
Boris took down Second Swordsman with a single shot. Second Swordsman fell to the floor clutching the breath-stopping pain that crushed his chest. A look of surprise froze on his dying face. Boris fired again, his mini cannon punched the dying man’s body and jerked the life out of him.
Mykal turned while Roy Jr. and Boris were shooting. Roy Jr. fired on his left, Boris on his right. He felt light concussions from both blasts making him blink uncontrollably. Their shooting forced him to hesitate squeezing his trigger again.
Other patrons cried out. Most huddled down under tables and pressed close to the walls. Such noise, such strange vicious destruction was unprecedented. Towbar had warned Gan the wrath of the gods would be unleashed down upon their heads. There could be no other explanation for such easy dismantling of Gan and his henchmen. The strangely dressed, different looking, outsiders held the wrath of the gods at their fingertips.
*******
When Gan heard the booming thunder and saw how easily his friends had been destroyed, a sudden sobriety washed through his head. He knew he had to get away. While turning he felt something ‘bite’ into his legs with a force strong enough to knock him to the ground. He tried to rise but his legs wouldn’t move. Gan looked at his legs. He saw no weapons protruding from his limbs. Still, the pain increased greatly and blood flowed.
Being a bully and a sore loser, revenge was foremost to his thinking. ‘They will suffer the consequences for this!’ But Gan couldn’t get to his feet. With his hands he felt the ripped open flesh. He looked at the blood transferred to his hand after touching his damaged limbs. He gave a yell of frustrated anger and grabbed his dagger from the floor to fight to the death.
*******
“Ahhhhhh! My legs will not move,” Gan yelled to Mykal. All four friends lay still and lifeless. “What have you done? This can not be,” Gan moaned.
Mykal approached Gan slowly. “You stupid friggin redneck, why couldn’t you leave us alone?” Mykal stared at the damage they inflicted in less than five seconds. He looked to Roy Jr. and Boris who cautiously watched the patrons. He turned to see Kurt drank the last of Mykal’s mug and laughed into the wooden cup.
“Gan, I oughta kill you just for starting this mess,” Mykal said while he scanned the room for any other threats. “But you’ll remember this day for the rest--”
Suddenly Gan swung his dagger up toward Mykal.
“Myk!” Boris shrieked like a panicked parent seeing a child about to be hit by a car. The deafening explosion from Boris’s .44 magnum seemed to shake the walls. He shot Gan in the chest just below his neck, rocketing Gan backward for his final move.
Mykal jerked in fright. “Damn it! That scared the piss outta me,” he snapped at Boris.
“He tried to stick you Myk,” Boris responded defensively and pointed his revolver around the establishment.
Mykal paused and realized he had been more upset with being startled by noise than he had been at the loss of life they inflicted. Towbar’s world had a malevolent effect on him. He allowed himself to flow into the swirling cesspool of evil and malice that surrounded him. He knew he was changing.
“Thanks bud. I’m sorry,” Mykal replied. “I owe you one.”
“That’s what I do, Boss.” Boris smiled nonchalantly as if he had just mundanely removed a splinter from Mykal’s finger.
Mykal concluded they were all being changed by the strange situation they had been thrust in. He wondered if they would ever be normal again. Could they ever be normal again?
Mykal turned to the terrified customers. “Does anyone else have a problem with us being in here?” He didn’t realize the people feared the ‘wrath of the gods’ had been unleashed due to Gan’s disrespect.
No one dared to answer. None dared to move.
“Braidum, get up,” Mykal addressed the trembling bald head behind the bar. “Everyone, get up,” he called out in a friendlier tone. “You people don’t have anything to be afraid of. Braidum, I’m sorry for the mess. I’ll talk to Towbar and have him repay you for all the damages we made. Let’s get outta here,” he said to his friends.
“Wanna have one more drink ‘fore we go?” Kurt asked as if nothing happened.
“One more word outta you and I’ll kick your ass all the way back to the car,” Mykal threatened. “This is your fault, moron,” he said, but he blamed himself more than he blamed Kurt.
“Wha’d I do?” Kurt slurred.
“Shut up,” Boris whispered and jerked his arm at the elbow.
At the door, the mass of bodies parted like the Red Sea again, without the previous smiles. The people didn’t know what took place, but seemed amazed by the awesome display of power.
“Do ya think they’ll try to lynch us?” Boris whispered as they stepped past the townspeople. He held his pistol ready.
“I hope not,” Roy Jr. said. “We only defended ourselves.”
“We’re fine. We’re friends of Towbar,” Mykal said loudly.
“Damn,” Boris complained as he took the last cigarette out of the pack. “This is the last of my smokes,” he said in a near panic. He crumbled the empty pack and threw it to the ground.
Mykal smiled when he watched a teenager pick up Boris’s trash and showed it to his friends. The kid clearly held a ‘treasure’ that would be the talk of the town for some time. The white and red pack with the words Lucky Strike, covered in cellophane, had never been seen before.
“Dee’s people ain’ gon’ lynch us,” Kurt slurred. “If dey don’ like what we did, to hell with ‘em,” he said and waved his arm over his head like a drunken fool. “We’re here to help.”
“If you don’t shut your mouth I’m gonna lynch you myself. You dipshit. You started all this stuff.” Mykal grumbled, and wanted to slap Kurt in the head. “I told you I didn’t want anyone getting drunk, and look at you. I’m pissed off cuz you’re my driver and right now Franklin could drive better than you.”
“I don’ wanna hear dat stuff, Sarge,” Kurt slurred in a drunken prote
st. Kurt stiffened straight up as if offended.
“Shut up, you friggin idiot.”
“Hey, I don’ haf ta take dis ‘idiot’ stuff from you. I know you’re pissed off at me, but you don’ have ta call me names,” he said and sounded like he was going to cry.
“Shut up, idiot. Or I’ll knock you on your idiot tail and then I’ll lock your ass in the trunk until you’re sober.”
“Myk, I can drive if we need to get out of here in a hurry,” Roy Jr. volunteered and fought to keep his smile hidden.
Though Mykal’s harsh words put Kurt on the verge of tears, Mykal realized they no longer cared about the carnage they created just minutes before. Killing had become so easy.
“Uh oh,” Boris said to get their attention and pointed up the road. Towbar ran toward them with his long sword in his hands. “Do ya think he’s pissed at us?”
Towbar stopped running and sheathed his sword once he laid eyes on them. “I heard your thunder sticks, I became concerned. No one is harmed?”
“Nah, we’re alright, but numb nuts here drank too much and made the situation get worse.”
“I see.” Towbar nodded and they watched Kurt stagger. “It is good I did not suggest a strong drink.”
“We had to defend ourselves against Gan and his men, but no one else got hurt.” Mykal said. “The others in there were pretty scared. I told Braidum you’d make it right.”
Towbar nodded his approval. “I feared they would be foolish enough to provoke trouble after I departed. I should have stayed to stop them. I warned them, thus they brought destruction upon their own heads.”
“What about the people?” Boris asked. “Do you think they’ll turn on us at a later time?”
“Gan had always been a merciless man. He regularly took advantage of weaker people and forced them to give him treasures so he would not harm them.”
“Ah, he had a protection racket going?” Mykal asked.
“I do not understand,” Towbar said.
“Back in New York, or rather, back home, I knew of people in the mob who did similar stuff. They’d force people to buy protection or else. So if people didn’t pay up, then Gan and his friends would hurt them?”
