The Dead Man: Kill Them All

by Shannon, Harry; Goldberg, Lee; Rabkin, William

  Scotty stopped in the middle of describing Larry Csonka plowing through three defenders and knocking himself silly running into the goalpost. He seemed annoyed by the interruption.

  “What?”

  “Somebody is outside,” the guard said. “Women.”

  “The fuck?”

  The other bored mercenaries rushed the door like frat boys, their weapons at half-mast.

  Scotty sighed and stared down at the bed for a few seconds. When he looked up, his face was just raw meat and writhing worms. Matt cringed as Scotty shook his head and a couple of gray worms fell off and dropped writhing on the bedsheet.

  “I don’t care if it’s the chicks from ‘Black Swan’ licking each other,” Scotty said. “Stay sharp or I’ll shoot you myself.”

  The stoner went to the window, opened it, and jammed himself into the corner with his weapon pointed outside. To Matt, the man’s eyes were black holes. His nose had fallen off. The other two went to their assigned posts as well. Scotty patted Matt’s leg in an absurd parody of politeness.

  “Excuse me for a second.”

  Scotty gripped his weapon and went to the door. He kept the weapon behind his back and filled the doorway. Matt gathered himself to call for help but then realized he’d just get whoever was outside killed.

  The breathless voice of an unfamiliar female. “Sorry to bother you, honey.”

  “Hold it right there, honey,” Scotty said. Matt watched as Scotty’s fingers tensed on the Glock. Matt hoped whoever it was wouldn’t be killed right there in front of him.

  “We’re coming back from a party in Elko,” another woman said. Her voice sounded slurred. “We got a flat tire.”

  The stoner said, “I’ll change it.”

  Scotty shot him a dirty look. He peered out the door again. Seemingly satisfied, he relaxed. “Just stay where you are, okay? Someone will be out in a second.”

  He closed the door, looked at the stoner. “Get them out of here.”

  “Kill them?”

  “Not unless you have to. Someone might come looking before we’re done with Cahill. Go change the tire and get the fuck back inside. Red, you cover him from the window. Don’t let any of them see your weapons. Anything goes wrong, take all three of them out.”

  Three?

  The mercenary called Red went to the window. Whatever he saw there made him whistle with appreciation.

  Matt tried to raise his head, but the effort made him dizzy. He considered calling for help but didn’t want to put the women in danger. Exhausted and queasy, he closed his eyes again and passed out.

  When he came to again, the trailer was silent except for the humming air-conditioning. He felt shaky but not as bad as he had. He rolled his head to his right. They had once again stopped draining his blood. Two brownish slices of apple and a half-empty bottle of water sat beside him on the white sheet, placed there almost as an afterthought.

  Some time had passed. Matt tried to sit up but failed. He tried again, got up on his elbows. The van was quiet. Why? Matt looked around.

  No one else was moving. The mercenaries were passed out cold. Scotty was on the floor in the fetal position, nearly sucking his thumb, his pus-filled face and blank eyes twitching. The other three were in poses around the trailer. Empty bottles of beer and whiskey lay on the floor. Some of the furniture was tipped over. There was no sign of the strangers. Matt started to pass out again, but he fought the impulse. He had to get the hell out of here—now. And then he heard footsteps.

  Someone was coming.

  Matt struggled to free his hands. He got his left arm loose and pulled on the tape holding his right arm to the board, tape that covered the needle that had been draining his life pint by pint. The door creaked open. Panicked, Matt managed to tear at the tape. Then a shadow fell across the bed.

  Matt Cahill look up and saw the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Sally, her face framed by sunlight. She had come to rescue him. Sheriff Pickens, Wally, and Kyle had come with her. The two other women waited outside.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Monday, 8:53 a.m.

  “That ought to get it,” Doc said. The silver-haired cowboy sat back and closed his black bag. Matt had resisted yet another needle, but Doc argued that he needed a transfusion, nutrients and B12 with a bit of a stimulant. Just moments later, Matt did feel quite a bit better. He was seated upright in a chair in Sheriff Pickens’ office. He’d refused to lie down again. He’d had enough of feeling helpless.

  “Whatever you just did, it worked pretty well,” Matt said.

  “Ought to. I’ve practiced on quite a few wounded horses,” Doc said without the slightest trace of a smile.

  A jealous Kyle had discreetly followed Sally and Matt out of town. He’d wanted to make sure his rival was gone for good. Kyle explained the truth sheepishly but also seemed proud because of how it had all worked out. He’d seen the huge van drive up and kidnap Matt, but knowing he couldn’t possibly take on mercenaries with weapons, Kyle had hung back and followed the van until it parked out in the desert. Then he’d raced back to town, and the people of Dry Wells couldn’t stand by and let him be kidnapped. They owed Matt Cahill. Something had to be done.

  Sheriff Pickens had come up with the plan. Sally and Suzie Pickens had dressed as hookers. They’d taken another volunteer from the whorehouse, a girl named Maggie. The women had approached the trailer while Sheriff Pickens and some of the men watched from a distance. Wally covered them with a hunting rifle.

  The girls had gotten the mercenaries to drink a bit of drugged booze, then slipped away before anyone could get hurt. Then they’d all waited half an hour, returned when it was safe, and brought Matt and his bedroll, backpack, and ax back to Dry Wells. Sheriff Pickens hadn’t wanted to risk trying to take the men into custody without more backup.

  “But now,” Sheriff Pickens said, “our problem is that the bastards are going to wake up again soon. And it won’t take long for them to figure out what happened. We helped you get away. They’ll want to get even. And that means they’ll be coming for you. For us.”

  “Get help now,” Matt said. “Those men are trained professionals.”

  “Sure, that’s what I’d figured on doing as soon as we got back, son. Just turns out that I can’t.”

  “Can’t you call the state police? The National Guard? Somebody?”

  “No, because we got us some more shit luck in Dry Wells,” Sheriff Pickens said. “There’s a badass forest fire going on down the 41, and everything is closed tighter than a gnat’s ass. The Guard is all tied up fighting the fire, and everyone else is either evacuating or blocking the highways. They got to keep away every swinging dick with a six-pack of beer and a digital camera. And the phone lines went dead a few minutes ago. Can’t raise a signal. The long and short of it is, we’re on our own, at least through tomorrow.”

  Matt didn’t think it was a coincidence that the phone lines were down and the signals were jammed. It was intentional. The university had paid a lot of money for this team and their support staff. They seemed to think Matt was worth a fortune.

  Surprised, Matt saw that Zeke and Hog, the two bullies from the bar, were here with the rest of the residents. Stone sober now, they seemed both tense and oddly deflated. Neither man seemed eager to meet his eyes, but Matt just nodded his appreciation and the two seemed to relax.

  “I appreciate what you all have done for me,” Matt said. “But saving me is bound to bring suffering. I should go.”

  “If they do come for us,” Doc said, “we’re going to need every man we can get. Including you.”

  “Let him leave!” a woman called. Other people shushed her up.

  Kyle shrugged. “Let’s just man up and do something for once.”

  Bert the grocer said, “Easy for you to say. You’re young, you got no kids and nothing to lose.”

  More people crowded into the room. Uncomfortable, Matt found himself the center of attention again. Yet this wasn’t about him anymore. It had gro
wn much bigger than that.

  “Far as I’m concerned, Kyle is right,” Sheriff Pickens said. “I owe my daughter’s life to this man. He’s been here a day and in my opinion he’s already changed us for the better. I for one ain’t going to let those bastards murder him. I won’t just look the other way. This is our town, damn it.”

  Many of the townsfolk agreed. Several others remained silent.

  “And I’ll repeat that,” Doc said. “Matt here has proved he’s got brains and balls. We’re going to need his help to protect ourselves tonight.”

  Sally, still wearing tight clothing and smeared hooker makeup, as was Suzie Pickens, spoke up. “We’re going to have to figure out how to do that pretty damned quickly.”

  Bert the grocer looked at Matt. “Or we could just give you back to them and say we were sorry.”

  Matt nodded. “I’d understand if you did. But think about it. The problem is, now you know they murdered Kearns in cold blood and you know about what they tried to do to me.”

  “Which was what, exactly?” Doc asked.

  “Something illegal as hell. They were after my blood and organs.” The townspeople wouldn’t believe the truth if Matt told them. He barely believed it himself. “Guess maybe somebody needed a kidney.”

  “Well, okay, maybe it ain’t so bad. All we have to do is hold them off until help arrives,” Wally ventured.

  The sheriff shook his head. “Matt is right. They’re gonna come for Cahill, and they’re gonna also want anybody else they think might know more than he or she should. Which means all of us. Are we going to sit by and let that happen?”

  By now the remaining townspeople had edged into the room. Matt knew he didn’t have time to make friends with the fifteen or twenty permanent residents of old-town Dry Wells, but he had to win them over immediately. Because the clock was ticking. He scanned their faces, but the townspeople just waited for something to happen. A black crow cawed outside the window like an angel of death.

  “It’s your town, your decision.” Matt got to his feet. “You want me to go, I’ll go.”

  “If I thought that would work, I’d probably show you the way out of town,” Zeke said. Everyone seemed surprised that he was speaking out. “But it likely won’t. These desperadoes broke the law. They look badass to us. They aren’t going to take any chances folks will talk about what happened out there. Hog and me, we say make a stand.”

  Silence.

  Hog said, “Mr. Cahill, you beat us fair and square, and you weren’t mean about it. We remember things like that.”

  “We ain’t fighting men like you three,” someone called. “We’re just farmers and ranchers.”

  “I know it’s not fair that you’re in this position. But here we are.” Matt looked down. Suzie Pickens and her brother were each on one knee. Sally was seated cross-legged on the floor, staring up at him, wide-eyed and smitten. Doc, Wally, and all the others watched him as silence took hold. They were waiting, obviously expecting him to take charge, even though he didn’t know the first thing about combat. And then it hit him. Matt had been wondering why he’d come back to life, why he’d been spared. This was another one of those times when it felt like destiny. His arrival had caused the situation, but it had also saved lives and brought the whole town together. Perhaps this was all supposed to happen.

  Matt said, “Kyle, can you draw me a detailed map of the town? Every building, hiding place, electrical panel, water source, whatever you can think of that might help us out?”

  Kyle nodded, then exploded into motion. People began whispering as the young man dug in a desk drawer for paper and pencils. Sally joined him and they both got to work. Seeing that, the other residents gained a bit of confidence. They were standing taller, even though Matt didn’t have a plan—he just sounded like he did. Apparently, that was enough for the time being.

  Oh man…

  “Okay, I’m no expert,” he said, “but I’ll try to figure out how to buy us the time we need until the National Guard can get here.”

  The sheriff said, “Listen up. One thing I do know about is firearms. This is crucial, okay? Once we figure out the best defensive positions, you’re all going to have to think about finding cover, not concealment. Concealment is a rosebush. Cover is a brick wall. Get it? These men shoot, and bullets go through just about anything.”

  Matt rolled his shoulders. He felt a lot stronger now, almost normal. “Give some thought to some booby traps we can rig to at least slow these bastards down.” He looked around the room. “Does anyone have a working telescope, or at least a great pair of binoculars?”

  A teen in the back raised his hand.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Timmy, sir.”

  “Timmy,” Matt said, “you need to grab some bottled water and climb the tallest building. Get as high up as possible, son. Start looking around and don’t stop. These guys are well trained. They may come from any direction, or more than one. You’re our listening post, our eyes and ears. Someone else needs to go with him and wait down below to carry the word. Pick him or her now. And remember what the sheriff said. Stay down, behind bricks, not brush, okay? Get your stuff and go.”

  Matt continued to bark all the instructions he could think of until everyone had some initial function. He figured it was better to have them all staying busy, and in the meantime he could focus on setting up some specific defenses.

  And on how the hell he’d manage to bluff his way through something he knew so little about.

  “Doc? How long before those drugs wear off?”

  Doc looked at his watch. He seemed less terrified, a bit resigned. “Pickens was right, basically. If he drove back out there now, there’s a good chance that one of them would already be awake enough to shoot his ass dead. I’d say most of them won’t be coming out of the fog for at least a couple of hours, though. Maybe three or four, tops.”

  They didn’t have much time.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Monday, 1:04 p.m.

  Matt sat in the sheriff’s office, clumsily cleaning an old Taurus .357 the way the lawman had told him. Sally sat across from him, taking stock of the other weapons, laying the guns and ammo on a table.

  Matt sighed, feeling overwhelmed. He was a fraud, but these people were desperate for a leader. The smart thing to do would be to run—and hope he could get the mercenaries to follow him and leave the town alone. But what if they wouldn’t follow? Worse, what if he got away and the town paid the price?

  “I’m sorry I ever came here,” Matt said aloud.

  “I’m not,” she said. “You saved a life, and then saved my bacon in the bar. In some strange way, you’ve inspired us to come together as a town.” She paused. “Are we all going to make it through this?”

  “I certainly hope so.” He resumed cleaning the gun. “I guess it depends on who steps up when the time comes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Matt fumbled with the three speed loaders and set them aside with the newly cleaned .357. “I don’t know most of the people in Dry Wells. Bert is okay. Hog and Zeke may come through, they seem to have had a real change of heart. Wally—he’s an alcoholic, but in some ways seems like the most genuine man in town other than Kyle. And that boy, Kyle? Well, he just loves you to death—you know that, right?”

  Sally shrugged. “I’m all there is around here.”

  “You’re underestimating him—and yourself.”

  “What about Doc?”

  “He’s scared, but he’ll do okay, too.”

  “You spend a lot of time reading people, don’t you?”

  Matt didn’t answer. He didn’t want to have to explain how or why. He collected the handguns and put them into cardboard boxes. “Sally, get a couple of the women to help you distribute these, okay?”

  “That’s it, right?”

  “I guess. We’re down to firing up the kerosene lanterns, shouting at each other, hand signals, and anything else we can think of.”

  “Li
ke it’s 1875 or something.”

  “Pretty much. We’re as ready as we’re likely to be without any outside help. Remember, all we have to do is make it through the night.”

  She kissed his cheek. The kiss drifted to the side, and for a long moment their passions leaked out. Her hands grabbed at his back, but Matt broke away and kissed her forehead instead.

  “You’d best get moving.”

  Sally sighed and hurried out.

  When Sally was gone, Matt sat in his chair. He wondered whether there might still be some way to leave the citizens of Dry Wells out of the confrontation. The mercenaries needed his blood, not his corpse, so they’d have to be careful. As for Matt, he wasn’t willing to be taken alive again, because there would be no guarantee Sally and the others would be safe. If Mr. Dark was around, perhaps there was some other solution, a different deal to be struck…a way to save the others, if not himself.

  If Scotty gave him a chance, they’d have to talk.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Monday, 4:51 p.m.

  Why are they taking so long? They should do something.

  Sunset was coming soon. Matt Cahill walked down the middle of Main Street in old town, heading west towards Sheriff Pickens and the jail, making the rounds yet another time. He hoped to hell he looked inspirational. He waved at the men stationed on the roof of the hotel. Matt cupped his hands and called out.

  “Got water?”

  Timmy gave a thumbs-up.

  “Remember what Sheriff Pickens said—stay the hell down behind the bricks. Cover, not concealment, right?”

  Matt stopped in the shade of the old gazebo. He spun in a lazy circle, his boots kicking up dust. The sun was getting lower and the sky was beginning to color as evening approached, but the heat still lay on Dry Wells like a thick blanket. Matt let his eyes roam to check the windows and rooftops, making sure everyone was in place for the battle to come. Doors and windows had been nailed shut. Pits had been dug, streets blocked to slow the intruders down.