The Lieutenant stepped down from his horse and paused for a moment, the sound came again, and he stepped toward the nearest smashed vehicle. This one had appeared to have run into the wall of wreckage with enough force to wedge itself underneath a section of a semi-trailer. Lowering himself down but keeping his blade ready Cort tried to peer through a gap into the pitch-black interior of the wreckage. The whimper came again, louder and clearer than ever before.
Tears rolled down Jerry’s face freely now; he shook his head trying to deny what he was hearing. Movement from the inside of the wrecked Jeep caused Cort to jump back his saber raise to strike. From the darkness, the hand of a young woman hesitantly reached out as if struggling to find the way.
“Jerry?....Where are you? Help me, please?” a woman’s voice pleaded, and the hand reached out in Jerry’s direction
“Who is that?” Cort asked, his eyes never leaving the reaching hand.
“My…wife…” Jerry managed to choke out.
“What happened here? Did she die?” the Priest asked.
“No…no she lived. I was driving, and she was…hurt badly. We were trapped in the wreck, stuck in the snowstorm overnight. She spent nearly a year in the hospital. I was there with her every day even after she demanded that I leave. I failed out of college and she…I mean we, were never able to have children because of it, because of her injuries. The wreck changed our lives, and it was my fault.”
Jerry took a long deep breath, the cold air burned his lungs but saying the words out loud seemed to help him, to steady him. He still couldn’t raise his eyes though, somehow, he knew seeing the wreck, seeing her outstretched hand would be too much for him. That was why he never saw the gunslinger dismount.
“It’s going to be okay darling. Uncle Jamie is here, don’t you worry now. I’m going to get you out of there and then maybe you can do a favor for me,” Jamie cooed as he knelt down next to the wreck.
“Jamie!” Cort turned shouting the name like a curse.
Jerry leaped from the back of the Priest’s horse and made two strides through the snow before he realized he was in motion. He shouldered his way past the big cavalryman his eyes locked firmly on Jamie’s back. The gunslinger was a killer in life and had spent over a hundred years honing his trade here in hell. He sensed Jerry’s approach and spun on his heels, one of his Scofields already clearing leather as he turned. In that split-second Jerry knew the man could shoot him before he even thought about it, would kill him by sheer reflex alone. Jerry was just two steps away, but it may as well have been a mile, Jamie would gun him down here in his own hell and laugh while he did it.
In the split second it took Jerry to ponder this, he met Jamie’s eye. They held a gleam and Jerry watched as it shifted ever so slightly from one of surprise to malevolent joy as they focused on him. The gunslinger wasn’t about to shoot him on reflex, Jamie was going to shoot him because he wanted to. That conscious thought had caused Jamie to pause for just a moment, and it gave Jerry the slimmest of chances, and without a thought, he took it. Jerry whipped his arm out in a wide swing. It was a haymaker that Jerry had no possible hope of landing; he was still too far away. Or would have been, if he hadn’t been gripping his briefcase in his hand as he swung.
The leather case bashed aside Jamie’s outstretched pistol sending the gun spinning into the snow. The gunslinger’s eyes followed the flight of the gun for a moment and then looked back at Jerry just in time to catch the punch that followed just below his right eye. Jamie fell backward stunned and landed awkwardly in the snow already fighting to free his second pistol. Jerry surged ahead eager to unleash the feelings of rage and helplessness this place had built up in him. But a strong hand gripped him by the shoulder and held him in place.
“That’s enough!” Cort shouted at Jerry.
“You're damn right about that!” Jamie shouted, “This god damned greenhorn just wore out his fucking welcome!”
Jamie leaped back to his feet fighting free of the snow with his other pistol already in hand.
“I said that’s enough!” Cort shouted again and stepped forward to stand between the two men.
“This sack of shit is nothing but dead weight, he the reason we’re trapped here…” Jamie shouted.
The Gunfighter took another step forward, and the Lieutenant cut him short by raising his saber and placing the tip squarely on the gunslinger’s chest.
“Right now, I don’t give a shit how we got here. I just want to find a way out. That starts with you two ceasing fire and shutting the hell up until I say otherwise. When we are out of here and safely back at The Rose then you can cut each other to fucking pieces for all I care,” Cort shouted.
For just a moment Jamie looked as if he wanted to argue the point, but before he could open his mouth, Cort took a step forward forcing the gunslinger to take a grudging step backward in retreat.
“Did you hear me?” the Lieutenant demanded.
Jamie gritted his teeth as he locked eyes with the Lieutenant. A small spot of blood was quickly forming on the gunslinger’s shirt where the tip of Cort’s saber had pierced the flesh underneath. Both men eyed each other warily across the length of the sword blade.
“I fucking hear you,” Jamie finally relented.
“And what about you Greenhorn?” Cort asked keeping his eyes firmly on Jamie.
Jerry didn’t hear Cort’s words; he had slipped down to his knees in the snow, his eyes locked on the mangled wreckage. Through a gap in the twisted steel, the pale hand was desperately reaching out towards him.
“Jerry, please Jerry,” his wife’s voice pleaded weakly, “take my hand.”
Fresh tears streaked down Jerry’s face, each burning like fire in the biting cold. He knew that he and Rachel had survived the snowy wreck decades ago. That the next day, the storm had broken, and a highway patrolman had found them. Jerry knew that at this very moment she was alive back in the world of the living, probably still hating him and blaming him for the failure of their marriage. But here none of that mattered to him; she was the scared young girl he had fallen in love with, and she needed him.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered.
Jerry reached out and took his wife’s outstretched hand. The moment he touched Rachel’s pale skin a chill swept through his body. His teeth began to chatter, and he started to tremble uncontrollably. The petite hand gripped around his firmly, clamping down with inhuman strength and he knew immediately that he had made a terrible mistake.
“You must stay! Stay here with me!” Rachel’s voice demanded but now with a sinister edge.
“Rachel, no, please! You're hurting me; please let me go! Someone help!” Jerry screamed his voice steeped in pain and fear.
Jerry pulled back desperately trying to reclaim his hand, but the harder he pulled, the stronger the grip seemed to become. He pressed both of his legs up against the side of the twisted wreck and pushed again using his legs to try and break the grasp and free himself. But after a few moments of grunting and strain his shoulder began to ache and he realized he was closer to pulling his own arm from its socket than he was from freeing himself.
Jamie laughed aloud and pointed at Jerry as he struggled to free himself from the hand’s grasp. Cort stood and watched in silence his face an unreadable mask.
“Well I guess some things just kinda work themselves out,” Jamie said with a grin and turned back to reclaim his gun and his horse.
“Cort, Lieutenant please help me!” Jerry shouted in desperation.
The cavalryman just stood there, continuing to watch the little man struggle in vain. His face remained impassive for a few moments and then slowly he shook his head.
“Cort, Cort!” Oliver yelled, “we’ve got company!”
The lieutenant turned and ran back to stand next to the dragoon. Following the Brit’s gaze down their dark and snowy backtrail, he could just make out a faint orange glow through the gray falling snow. The glow seemed to bob at a steady pace and grow brighter
by the moment.
“Mount up!” Cort screamed, and in response, both Jamie and Oliver climbed back into their saddles.
Jerry shouted again, this time at the priest, “Please, help me!”
The Holy man looked from Jerry and then to Cort. His gaze lingered on the Cavalryman but then turned down towards the snowy ground, and Jerry knew then that none of the other riders would dare risk angering the Lieutenant to help him.
Cort crossed the snowy ground again back towards the trapped man, and for a fleeting moment, Jerry thought his pleas were about to be answered. But the cavalryman gave him the briefest of glances and then scooping up the reins remounted his horse. He wheeled the animal around to face the small group of riders.
“What’s the plan Leftenant?” Oliver asked.
“Same as before, we run,” Cort replied simply.
“Where in the hell were you planning on running too?” Jamie demanded.
Cort let out a long breath before replying. “Back the way we came, back down that trench.”
The rest of the riders exchanged nervous glances with one another. Even Shinji who couldn’t have understood the words looked concerned and seemed to sense the gravity of the situation. Father Callahan looked up and was the first to speak.
“I’m not a fighter Cort, you know that, but that seems like suicide even to me. We would run straight into those things with no chance to kill them, no way to turn back or even around,” the priest said slowly.
“We’ve run out of options boys; it’s as simple as that,” Cort replied.
The group was silent as if deeply considering his words.
“I’ll take the lead. If we’re lucky maybe I can put that fiery bastard down again and the rest of you will have a chance to rush past,” Cort explained.
“Then it’s back through the storm and out the way we came.”
Jerry sat in the snow trapped in the arm’s frozen grip and helplessly listened to the desperate plan. He couldn’t help but shake his head, he had led them to this, and though he couldn’t consider any of them friends, he still felt guilty for what was about to happen to them. In desperation, his eyes wandered first across the wreck of the Brown Bomber. Then to the field of snow-covered cars to his right. Could they head out that way on foot? Perhaps hide within the sea of wrecks? Immediately Jerry doubted these lifelong horsemen could be persuaded to abandon their mounts. And having demons hunt you down one by one through a maze of frozen cars didn’t seem like that better of a plan.
Jerry’s eyes shifted to the wall of wreckage in front of him. Could they climb over it and out of here he wondered? He guessed the snowy covering would make the climbing difficult and slow, but manageable. Though he doubted they would make it over the top before their pursuers arrived. And again, the horseman would have to abandon their mounts. His eyes lingered on the base of the wall for a moment and then on a section of the trailer that lay just in front of them. It had created a 3-foot ledge that ran the length of the wall before ending abruptly. The end of the trailer extended a few feet over the edge of the highway with only the darkness of the abyss below.
“Oh…holy shit, that’s it,” Jerry mumbled to himself, “Man, what a terrible fucking idea.”
He turned back to the group just as Jamie started to speak.
“What about the other one? That toady looking bastards is still out there too I bet. You going to put that one down too?”
Oliver was shaking his head, obviously trying to come to grips with the desperate situation in which they had found themselves. Jerry needed to get their attention and fast; those things were getting closer with each passing moment.
“You’ll all die and for permanent this time. That’s not a plan; it’s a fucking execution!” Jerry shouted at the group.
Several eyes turned to look at where the little man sat shivering in the snow. His hand still trapped hopelessly in the grip of the pale arm.
“I know a way out,” Jerry offered hesitantly.
“Yeah, like hell you do!” Jamie shouted back. “You’re just trying to save your own skin!”
“Your right. I’m trying to get out of the mess same as you. If you leave me here, I’m a dead man. But if you get yourselves killed in some suicidal run for it I’m just as dead. Those things will come after me as soon as they finish with all of you. The only way I get out of here is if we all get out,” Jerry shouted in reply.
Cort, having apparently heard enough spun his horse back around and rode over to stand over Jerry. The Lieutenant still gripped his saber in hand and stared down at the kneeling man with an unreadable look. Jerry’s teeth still chattered, and he would have guessed himself beyond feeling chilled, but the look in Cort’s eyes proved him wrong. A fresh shiver that had nothing to do with the cold swept down his spine as he looked up at the big man.
“I know a way,” Jerry repeated, doing his best to return the gaze.
“I don’t believe you,” Cort replied simply.
“You need to, I’m your only chance of getting out of here,” replied Jerry.
The Cavalryman didn’t blink and just continued to penetrate Jerry with that icy stare. Jerry tried to match that look for the briefest of moments then glancing down considered a different approach.
“I’m the only chance your men have of getting out of here,” Jerry amended.
Cort’s eyes changed ever so slightly around the edges, and the Lieutenant glanced up for a moment at the watching group of riders.
“All you have to do is cut me free,” Jerry said glancing down at his wife’s arm. “What have you got to lose?”
One corner of Cort’s mouth curled up into the barest of smiles.
“That was what you said when you led us into the storm, into this mess. I think it’s about time you were reminded of something. You have something to lose also.”
“Wha…?” was all Jerry managed in reply as Cort’s saber swept down in a murderous arc.
Jerry felt a tug, and suddenly he was falling backward landing awkwardly in the snow. Rachel’s pale arm snaked back into the darkness of the wreck gripping its bloody trophy while her twisted voice cackled with glee. Jerry starred after her for a moment in confusion and then looked down at his arm that now ended just above the wrist. The first spurt of black blood sprayed from the severed stump and coated Jerry’s face; the pain followed a moment later. He collapsed back into the snow gripping his bloody limb to his chest and screaming unintelligibly. Jerry rolled back and forth through the snow, blinded by the pain, the dirty snow and his own blood freezing to his face.
After what seemed like an eternity of pain a strong hand gripped Jerry by the throat and rolled him onto his back. One of the little man’s eyes was sealed shut with frozen blood, but he managed to force the other open. He found Cort standing over him with the bloody saber still gripped in his hand.
“We don’t have time for this!” the cavalryman shouted and raised the tip of the blade to Jerry’s throat.
The little man tried to pull away, but Cort held him in place. He felt the cold of the blade against his neck and then a moment later a quick tug, but to Jerry’s surprise, Cort hadn’t slit his throat. The big man’s hand came away holding Jerry’s ruined tie. Then a moment later Cort grabbed ahold of Jerry’s bloody stump, and suddenly Jerry wished that the man had slit his throat. The pain hit him like a wave and Jerry fell to his knees. The big cavalryman held firm to the wounded limb and then with a quick and practiced motion Cort tied a tourniquet, and the spurting blood suddenly stopped. Jerry nearly passed out, his vision seemed to grow dark around the edges for a moment, and then Cort was dragging him to his feet.
“How do we get out of here? Tell me now!” Cort shouted.
Through the haze of his pain, Jerry met Cort’s eyes. The man held a desperate look there, something that Jerry hadn’t seen in him before. He would do whatever it took to protect his men, even if it meant sacrificing the newest recruit.
“I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you. Just promise, promise
to take me with you,” Jerry pleaded.
Cort’s eyes seemed to harden for a moment, and then he turned to look at the other riders, Jerry followed his gaze. The rest of the men were mounted and ready to move out at a word, but even Jerry could see the fear in them. Oliver kept glancing back down the snowy path. Father Callahan’s horse danced fitfully, and Jamie stared back at the both of them with that all too familiar look of murder in his eyes. Only Shinji seemed at ease the warrior sitting quietly and watching the snowfall. Cort turned back to look Jerry in the eye.
“Show us a way out, and we’ll drag you along. After that I promise you nothing,” Cort relented.
Jerry simply nodded knowing that was the best offer he could hope for. The Lieutenant set the smaller man down, and Jerry just managed to stay standing on unsteady feet.
“Now show us!” Cort commanded.
Jerry held his wounded arm close to his chest and simply nodded in reply.
“Now isn’t this some bullshit! I told you he got nothing to show us; he’s just trying to save his skin!” Jamie shouted.
Jerry ignored the gunslinger and turned away from Cort. He staggered forward through the knee-deep snow until he stood at the very base of the wall of wreckage. He looked upward at what now seemed like an impossible climb and then turned sharply to his left. He walked along the edge of the overturned semi-trailer leaning against it heavily and trailing blood in the snow as he went. Cort walked cautiously behind him a few feet his saber still in hand, but it wasn’t a very long trip.
Jerry reached the edge of the highway where the accident had ripped away the guardrail. He stepped to the edge still leaning against the overturned trailer. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and then leaned forward to peer downward. Below him, the darkness seemed to stretch on for eternity. This wasn’t simply night he peered into, it was infinitely more than that it seemed. This was simply nonexistence, the absence of anything.
“Well?” Cort asked from behind him.
Jerry turned to face the big man more than happy to turn away from that abyss and replied simply.
Hell's Highwaymen Page 11
