“How are you feeling?” Adriana asked Talbert first, shoving a microphone into his face.
He was uncertain of what to say, so he gave a shrug and looked around at all the people. “You guys really went all out here, huh?”
“A little overwhelmed?” she asked, pulling the mic back to her dark red lips. “Do you think the crowd will influence how well you perform here?”
“I don’t know,” Talbert shrugged and tugged at his ear. “Not even sure how I got roped into this, to be honest.”
This caused Adriana to laugh. “That’s great.” She then turned to Wild Bull, who was exuding confidence through a jovial smile. The crowd drowned out there brief exchange but Talbert had no doubt he’d end up seeing all this many times over, whether he wanted to or not.
Talbert spotted Ed by his flowing purple scarf. He was on the roof of Yellow Donkeyballs with Jia Fang, the owner and host of the event. They sipped blue martinis. Jia wore a shiny top hat covered with sequences, sparkling in the noonday sun.
DJ Vincent Van Grothic spun tunes from the balcony. “My boy Devil Bill!” he shouted over the PA. The crowd cheered. Talbert combed the crowd for more Red Scarves. When his search turned up only the two up on the balcony with Ed, one being Drago the other Fred the Big Red, alarms went off in his head. Something was not right.
Drago stared at him with wide eyes, as if trying to say something. To warn him. But of what? The alarms had yet to produce their true source. But then he realized what the tubby man was trying to say. Ed turned to look at Drago. Drago tried to appear as if he were simply watching the festivities. He grinned.
Talbert struggled to pull his transponder from his pocket. In his haste it fell to the pavement. Someone nearly stepped on it, and instead kicked it further into the street.
“What’s going on?” asked the Duck as Talbert fell to his knees and blocked a few people from stepping on his plastic transponder. He scooped it up and rapidly attempted to dial Roslyn.
It was so loud that hearing her proved almost impossible. He knew she’d answered but beyond that he couldn’t hear her.
“Where are you?” Talbert shouted into the receiver.
“On the move,” he thought she said.
“Go back! Fall back, it’s a trap!” Talbert shouted.
*
Roslyn held up her fist for them to stop marching. Her eyes flashed to every conceivable blind spot up the street and around them. The Da’akwood beside her head splintered and a quarter-sized hole ripped into the building. Then blue lasers began to shower down on them from every direction. Frank and Grace pulled Kidd back toward the sheriff’s station as Roslyn, Hassan, and Sixter returned fire. Roslyn dropped two Red Scarves as they stepped out from behind a column and a truck to fire. Hassan’s shoulder exploded and he fell to the ground. Sixter hurried to pick him up.
“We have to get back inside!” shouted Roslyn, dropping to her knee and firing. A blue bolt hit the ground beside her and she was forced to roll away behind a parked truck.
*
“I’m going to need to do this a little later,” Talbert shouted toward the Duck.
“What?” laughed the Duck. “It’ll be over sooner than you think, bud.”
“I’m afraid there’s an emergency,” Talbert tried to explain. As he leaned toward the man with the high ducktail haircut, he spotted someone joining Ed and Jia Fang on the balcony. It was Rex Omnious.
Talbert turned back to his friends standing at the edge of the crowd.
“Hattie,” shouted Talbert. She ran across the street to him. The crowd cheered for her as well, as if she was his concerned girlfriend, perhaps. He didn’t have time to figure it out.
“I need you to get back to the sheriff’s office. I need you to do your Bird mind stuff on some Red Scarves,” Talbert said into her ear, but at full volume.
She nodded and fought her way through the crowd. Siringo followed her.
“Gentlemen!” shouted the Duck. “Let me see your guns.”
Jane Goodaire caught something DJ Vincent Van Grothic dropped down to her and she carried it over to the Duck. He strapped it around his head and plugged one piece into his ear. The mouthpiece turned out to be a microphone hooked into the PA system.
Wild Bull and Talbert pulled their pistols and held them out to Chuck the Duck. “Stun mode!”
The crowd cheered.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, alien creatures alike, let’s get ready to throw down!” the Duck said into the mic and the crowd went wild. Talbert couldn’t help but shake his head at how ridiculous it all was. But what controlled his thoughts was concern for his friends. He hoped that since Rex Omnious was there, Hattie would be able to work her Bird magic and get them back inside.
“I’ll take the north side,” Talbert said leaning toward the Duck, but it caught in the microphone so everyone heard it.
“Well, that’s already been established,” the Duck said with a false grin.
“Why?” Talbert frowned. “I feel better pacing north and shooting south. It’s a superstitious thing.”
The crowd cheered again. For some reason they liked that idea. The only one who didn’t was the Duck. He looked confused and flustered.
“Let him go to hell the way he wants to, Chuck,” Wild Bull said. This too caught the microphone and caused another wave of applause from the crowd. It struck Talbert suddenly that Wild Bull didn’t know the Duck had cheated for him. It made it that much sadder.
“But, Bull, that’s not…” the Duck stammered and cleared his throat.
“Don’t matter to me what end of the street I put him down from,” Wild Bull said, again so that the microphone could hear. “Are you not entertained?”
The crowd went crazy with that. Talbert had to hand it to him. Wild Bull, it turned out, had gone back to Earth a couple of years ago to appear on talk shows, boasting about the wild days after the war and how it was a lawless world out there and how he had been the toughest of all the bad asses. He’d learned to be an entertainer. He’d learned well.
“This is not a good idea, Bull,” the Duck said, covering his microphone with his hand.
“Why not, Chuck?” Wild Bull asked, motioning for his gun. The Duck handed both men their guns back.
“Just isn’t,” the Duck insisted, agitated and helpless at the same time.
“Is there a difference in pacing, Duck?” asked Talbert. “Should we step it off together?”
“No, it’s fine. It – it’s the same both ways--” the Duck stammered.
“Great,” Talbert cut him off.
“Let’s do this,” Wild Bull said, holstering his sidearm.
The Duck took a deep breath and then put back on his entertainer’s voice.
“And now, I present you the main event,” the Duck said into the microphone, the crowd once again roaring. Talbert was pretty sure he heard a person shout that it was the only event but it was hard to hear over the rest of them.
Talbert suddenly had a thought that didn’t quite add up. They would be the same distance apart no matter which direction he walked. Then he realized he didn’t know something important.
“What are the rules again?” Talbert asked, shaking his left arm to loosen it.
“You start back to back and you walk to your marks, when you get there, you turn and you get one shot,” the Duck said. “But that’s open for negotiation at this point.”
“So what keeps one party from walking faster or running to their marks?” asked Talbert.
“He’s got a point, Chuck,” Wild Bull said. “In Montgomery we went to our marks and then we both made eye contact and then we drew.”
“That will work,” the Duck said, a sense of relief appearing on his face. “We okay with that?”
“Yep,” Talbert said. He was glad to take away the advantage. He had considered taking the extra pace if they were doing it the other way around.
*
Roslyn tried to move toward the sheriff’s station, but each time s
he stuck her head out a laser would rip another hole into the side of the truck bed she hid behind. They had them pinned down. She was happy to see Grace and Frank shoving Kidd back into the station from a side door. But she didn’t know how she would make it.
“He’s inside,” shouted Roslyn. “You can’t have him today. That place is fortified. They won’t give him up now.”
Another laser bolt came as answer. She looked down at Hassan, bleeding out in the street. Sixter tried to hold the wound but it was worse than she’d originally thought. It had taken the muscle off of his shoulder completely.
“Drago!” shouted Roslyn.
“He ain’t here,” came another voice.
Then came a wave she recognized. It was like hearing the bugle of the cavalry, only it was inaudible. It came over the street and washed along the Da’akwood structures.
Scrimchi! Said some whisper on a wind that only existed on the quantum level. Scrimchi.
“Yeah!” shouted Roslyn. “Scrimchi, bitches!”
She heard someone scream. “My head! She’s in my head!”
Then came silence. She waited. After counting to ten, she snuck her head up. Nothing came in response. She then spotted Hattie at the door to the sheriff’s office, waving them in. Helping to support Hassan, Roslyn and Sixter drug him through the door to safety.
Once inside the laser proof glass was activated and Roslyn gave Hattie the hardest hug she could deliver.
*
Talbert stopped at the chalk line and turned to face Wild Bull McQueen, an imposing figure thirty-nine paces away. They met eyes. Hattie had told him to visualize the stun bolt hitting him in a specific spot. He was to watch the bolt all the way to Wild Bull’s chest. That was where he would aim.
“You say when,” Talbert said, remembering Dogg Holly’s line.
Wild Bull gave a quick nod and the two men drew. Several things happened at once. Talbert pulled the trigger and braced for impact just as something buzzed and sizzled past his right ear. When he focused his eyes he saw the big man fall to his knees and then slump forward. The crowd rose and drowned out the world.
God dammit! Thought Talbert. You just ended that poor man’s career. Well, it’s a fool’s way to make a living. He heard his old man’s voice in his head saying.
The bolt had impacted him squarely in the chest, just as he’d visualized it. Talbert glanced at Chuck the Duck, who lowered his head in defeat.
“What the shit just happened?” Jane Goodaire shouted. “Bull? Wild Bull?”
The music kicked in and DJ Vincent Van Grothic jumped and shouted into the microphone. “Devil Bill! The fastest gun in the galaxy people! Yeah boy!”
Seated next to Ed and Jia Fang, Rex Omnious wore a serene expression that could have been mistaken for reverence. He seemed pleased and Talbert wondered if he’d bet on him. Those who bet on Devil Bill had a big payday coming.
The legend of Devil Bill had just taken on a new spin. But Talbert didn’t stick around to bask in any form of glory. Instead he ran.
“Where are you going?” asked Vinnie G.
Barry Gould hurried to follow Talbert back to the sheriff’s station. The Red Scarves had regained their wits but had fallen back.
“Call Dr. Gonzo!” Roslyn was shouting when Talbert entered the office. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
Ten minutes later Dr. Gonzo, who had been at the duel, hurried into the office and sprayed the wound with healing coagulant.
CHAPTER TEN
Two Red Scarves lingered across the street from the jail, pretending to have a casual conversation on a bench. One sat while the other stood, his boot up on the bench. He leaned on his thigh. They were both well armed.
“Can you send them away with your mind, Hattie?” asked Siringo, watching them through the window. The sun had yet to climb above the mountains. And Roslyn was only a quarter way through her first cup of coffee.
“I can’t,” Hattie said. She’d used up a good deal of energy, but also Roslyn wondered if Rex Omnious being back in town didn’t also affect it. Was he close by?
Roslyn called Talbert. He’d gone home after Dr. Gonzo stabilized Hassan. It had all been too much and his thirst drove him mad. Dr. Gonzo gave him a sleeping aid and he went home to try and sleep.
This morning he had been on his way in, but he stalled up the block, looking for more Red Scarves.
“All right,” Frank said, dropping his arms and walking briskly to the wardrobe room. It was more of a storage closet, but it was full of various costumes acquired over the years for undercover work. Roslyn followed him to the door of the closet and watched as he scanned the shelves for something in particular. His head made a quick jerk and his white finger went up when he found it. It was a large brimmed, bright white hat.
“What are you doing?” Roslyn asked.
“I’m going to walk to the shuttle port,” Frank said. “I’m going to scout the route, as we used to say back on Mars.”
Frank, not yet satisfied, searched the racks for something else. He pulled at the sleeve of a long red duster but then shook his head.
“Too much,” Frank said, dropping the sleeve and continuing his search. He came upon a tan duster with frills down the arms and across the back.
“What the hells are you doing?” Roslyn said, on the verge of laughter.
“I told you,” Frank said, trying on the long jacket. The sleeves were a bit too long so he cuffed them and then put on the hat.
“Seriously?” Roslyn asked with a pursed grin. “You look like a pimp from a bad movie.”
“Is it too much?” Frank asked, looking at himself in the mirror. He pulled his smart goggles over his eyes and extracted a kerchief out of his pocket and tied it around his nose and mouth.
“Are you robbing the bank?” Roslyn asked.
“I’ll be back. Keep your eyes out for more Red Scarves. Hopefully they follow me,” Frank said, checking the charges on both his pistols and his rifle.
“You going to let me know your play here?” Roslyn asked, stepping in his way.
“I’m going to scout the route to the shuttle port. Look for possible vulnerable spots along the way,” Frank said, moving around her. “See if we can get a tactical advantage out there.”
“Okay,” Roslyn said, keeping patience in her voice. “But why the outfit?”
“I’m planting a seed,” Frank said with a wink as he headed out the door. Talbert called ten minutes later wanting to know what the hell Charlie Siringo was up to. At least he thought that was Siringo he saw leaving the station dressed like an idiot.
“He’s scouting the route,” Roslyn said. “And it’s Frank not Charlie.”
Two hours later, Frank was back with a plan. Talbert remained up the block. He was finding it difficult to blend in, given his new celebrity. A few people stopped and asked for his autograph or snapped selfies with him. It made him dizzy and generally uncomfortable. Disoriented he ducked into a candy store and watched from the window. But realizing this was ineffective, he went back outside and backed into a deep doorway.
At the far end of the block in the opposite direction Siringo lurked. Grace and Hassan, arm bandaged but healing, joined the group at the jailhouse. Barry Gould and Sixter Windlestein were sent to rent a wagon from the hardware store and to park it in an alley across the street from a mechanics shop, which was located three blocks from the shuttle port. Sixter was told to go into the mechanics shop and explain the situation to the owner. Frank’s only hope was the owner of the mechanics shop wasn’t a Red Scarf sympathizer. Barry Gould was tasked with driving the wagon across the street at precisely the right time. He was given specific instructions concerning the type of wagon and the size of the tarp that was to cover the bed.
Roslyn rented an armored truck with Gatlin guns mounted to the grill. She hoped to hells she wouldn’t need to use the guns, but if it came down to dying or mowing down some red scarf-wearing bastards, she’d choose the latter. She hoped Drago wouldn’t be among them. The
thought tripped her for a moment, sending confusion and the mole to the base of her spine.
She pulled up to the front door of the jailhouse, turning in the street to back up to it. The beeping sound was enough to draw everyone on the street’s attention. Three Red Scarves now lingered around the bench, but they no longer pretended to casually talk.
Before Frank and Roslyn loaded the prisoner, Grace and Hattie snuck out the back and made their way through the alleys to the mechanics shop.
“I’m sorry to be a pain, ma’am,” said Kidd Wylie as Roslyn unlocked his cell and threw Da’akvine around his wrists. “But if I’m declared innocent by the Bird lady, then, shouldn’t I be let go? I almost got killed yesterday. I’m not really feeling like another trip with you guys.”
“We’re still collecting your bounty,” Roslyn said, shoving him toward the front door. “We won’t be intimidated.”
Talbert checked in. “All clear.”
Siringo spotted two more Red Scarves moving toward them down Third Street.
“That’s fine,’ Frank said. “The more the better, really.”
“And plan B is what?” Roslyn asked. She liked plan A but thought there were a lot of things that could potentially go wrong. They needed to contend for those.
“Guns blazing,” Frank said grinning at her, flashing his dimples.
They moved Kidd up the ramp of the truck and Roslyn and Frank followed him into the back. Hassan moved to the driver’s seat and took the wheel. He was injured but he could still drive.
“Slowly now,” Frank said to Hassan through the window connecting the bed with the cabin. “Give them a chance to think they’re getting into their positions.”
“You’ve got eyes on you like crazy,” Siringo said over the transponder. “I count seven Red Scarves tracking you on both sides of the street. Three on one and four on the other. That’s nine counting the two waiting for you to pass on Third Street.”
“Do you think they’re planning on doing it there?” Roslyn asked.
“Seeing as how one of them has just climbed into a hover cart,” Siringo said. “He might be trying to do what we’re going to do with the wagon.”
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