“Heroin you say?” Oliver asked.
“It’s made from opium,” explained the priest.
“Like the Chinamen smoke in their little dens,” Jamie added with a nod rubbing his hands together.
“Yes and no,” Father Callahan replied looking down at the dead teen.
“Why in the hell would Paradox want a junkie as the first person in his kingdom?” Jerry asked stepping up to stand next to the priest.
“What’s a Junkie?” Cort asked.
“A person that’s addicted to a drug,” the priest explained.
“My pa use to say that every man needs at least one vice Padre,” Cort pointed out.
“This isn’t just a simple vice. A drug like heroin drives a person relentlessly towards their next hit. They end up lying, stealing and betraying everyone that they ever loved. Most end up living on the streets selling their bodies, robbing and even killing anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path,” the priest said his words dripping sadness.
“Well then I guess he ended up in the right place,” Jamie pointed out with a grin.
“Let’s get moving. If we’re lucky maybe we can get back to The Rose before he wakes up again,” Cort commanded.
The outlaws walked their ghostly steeds across the plain at a casual, almost plodding pace. Since Jerry had arrived here the highwaymen had run their horses at full gallop everywhere they had gone. With horses that never tired and flat hard ground that never ended, why wouldn’t they? But for some reason on this trip across the plain, the cavalryman led them at a slow and measured pace. What may have been even more remarkable was that none of the riders complained, not even Jamie.
Jerry rode behind the priest again perhaps the place where he would spend most of eternity he considered. The young priest was humming quietly to himself lost in his own thoughts it seemed. It was an upbeat little tune that Jerry was almost able to place before Father Callahan ended it with a quiet chuckle. Jerry didn’t need to see the priest’s face to know that he now wore a small smile.
Jerry turned to look around at the rest of the riders. Oliver rode quietly off to the left with the teenager’s body slumped across the saddle in front of him who appeared, at least for the moment, still dead. The Dragoon was turned away from the group facing the empty plain staring out across the nothingness, but Jerry could see that his shoulders held an almost palpable tension.
“Oliver, how is the boy?” Jerry called out to the Dragoon.
The Brit didn’t reply, he didn’t even flinch. Jerry watched him for a few more seconds and then called out again.
“Oliver?”
The Dragoon’s head snapped around as if startled at the sound of his own name. For a fleeting moment, his eyes held the gleam of fresh tears.
“What?” Oliver asked.
“How is the boy?” Jerry repeated.
“Still dead?” he shrugged.
Jerry watched Oliver for a few more moments and then turned to look to his right. As always Shinji rode out on the highwaymen’s flank, perpetually part of the group but always a step removed. The stoic warrior seemed somehow restless, almost fidgety. Shinji’s eyes swept the horizon and then went down to his hands only to turn skyward a moment later. The Mongolian had been riding across the plains of Hell for nearly a thousand years by all accounts. The horrors he had seen during that time Jerry couldn’t even imagine. Shinji looked up at that moment meeting Jerry’s eyes. The warrior smiled broadly and then waved.
Jerry quickly looked away, “What the fuck is going on?” he mumbled.
“What’s the problem?” the priest asked.
“Something just seems off. Everyone is acting…oddly,” Jerry said lamely.
“How so?” came his reply.
“I…I don’t’…really know. I…” Jerry began to reply but was cut off.
“Leftenant!” Oliver shouted drawing every eye.
Cort wheeled his horse around to ride next to the Dragoon. The teenager was awake and appeared to be struggling hopelessly to try and escape the big man’s grasp.
“Let me go!” Danny screamed.
“Calm down boy!” Cort shouted.
“Fuck off!” Danny shouted in reply.
The boy managed to get a hand free and reached for the needle that had reappeared in his arm again
“No you don’t,” Oliver said yanking the needle from the teen’s arm.
“That’s mine! Give me that back you fat fuck!” Danny screamed now fighting viciously trying to reach the needle in Oliver’s outstretched hand.
“Damn it boy!” Oliver grunted and then tossed the needle away.
“No!” Danny screamed and now fought to try and chase after it.
“Enough!” Cort shouted.
The cavalryman then drew his pistol and struck Danny across the back of the head with it, and the struggling teen went limp again. Oliver let go of the unconscious teen and let him tumble off the horse and land in an awkward heap.
“I don’t understand it Leftenant! What in the hell could that creepy bastard want with this lickspittle of a boy?” he demanded.
“Hell if I know,” Cort admitting as he looked down at Danny’s body.
Father Callahan followed by Jerry stepped down from his horse and joined the men standing over the teen.
“It’s the drug,” the priest said.
“You’ve seen this before then?” Cort asked.
“Yes. My congregation lost its fair share of young people. It was a different place and a different time than this boy. But of course, very little ever really changes,” the priest kneeled and then added.
“It’s not his fault, it’s this terrible drug. It turns good men into animals, women into whores and the gutters into graveyard. These souls are simply lost.”
“Careful Padre, that almost sounded like the start of a sermon,” Cort pointed out and then he actually chuckled.
Jerry stared for a moment at the Cavalryman and then glanced around at the other riders. Shinji was the only one still on horseback and seemed distracted staring up at the sky again. Jamie had dismounted, and Jerry watched him bend down and scoop something up from the ground. Oliver stood just next to him and stared down at the teen. But the look in the big Dragoon’s eyes showed his mind was wondering miles away.
“What in the hell is going on here?” Jerry asked aloud.
All of the riders turned to look at Jerry, some wore expressions of surprise and others confusion. Cort’s smile was gone now, and the perpetual scowl had returned.
“What do mean?” Oliver asked.
“All of you are acting…strange…,” Jerry said slowly not sure how else to describe it.
“So now you’re an expert on outlaws?” Cort asked dismissively.
“No, but…something, something just isn’t right,” Jerry struggled to explain.
“Well, you’re right about that! A demon just sent us out to fetch a…a Junky,” the cavalryman said struggling with the new word.
“We’re beholden for all of eternity to serve a being that is aligning himself against all of the powers of hell. Can this whole damned thing get any more fucked up?” he added.
As if to emphasis Cort’s words, a few feet away Jamie collapsed. All eyes turned to look at gunslinger, now laid out flat on the hard ground. Cort and the rest of the riders casually walked over to stand over the dead man. Jamie’s eyes were open, the pupils huge, but it was clear he wasn’t seeing anything. His mouth was open and filled with a white foam.
“Damn it Jamie!” the priest shouted yanking the needle from the gunslinger’s arm and tossing it away.
Cort just shook his head and spit. “Idiot,” he said dismissively.
“Some men just can’t learn from the mistakes of others,” Father Callahan said quietly.
“And some men are just assholes,” Oliver added with a laugh.
“Jerry, you ride Jamie’s horse and be sure to bring along his corpse. We’re done taking the scenic route and done imagining more problems that
we already have,” Cort said looking pointedly at Jerry.
“Like it or not it’s time to get back to that thing and complete our first mission.”
True to his word the cavalryman pushed the riders hard across the plain. Jerry fought to keep up, urging Jamie’s ghostly steed onward as fast as he could while awkwardly trying to keep the gunslinger’s body from sliding off the animal’s back. Luckily for Jerry, The Rose appeared on the horizon almost immediately, and as the riders entered the outskirts of the ghost town, they slowed their horses to a walk again. Oliver turned to look back over his shoulder first at the priest and then at Jerry.
“Well, that seemed…easy,” the Dragoon commented.
If Cort noticed anything unusual with their arrival, he didn’t say a word. The highwaymen reigned in their mounts just in front of The Rose, but for the first time, the riders seemed reluctant to want to enter the saloon. Jerry realized that this small piece of comfort the men had been able to find was now denied them. The appearance of Paradox had ruined this place for them, perhaps forever.
The saloon doors opened, and to a man, the rider’s tensed ready for the demon to appear, but it was Big Al that pushed his way through the doors.
“He’s gone,” Al said simply.
“What? When will he be back?” Cort demanded.
“He didn’t say,” Al replied and then looking down at the unconscious teen asked. “Who’s that?”
“That’s who he sent us out to find,” Cort said dismissively. “Looks like we wait.”
As the riders began to step down, Jamie began to stir across the back of the saddle. Jerry let go of the gunslinger, and he immediately slid from the back of the horse and landed in the dusty street with a thud. Jerry couldn’t help but smile as Jamie groaned in pain. The sound drew a series of chuckles from the rest of the riders.
Changes
With Paradox seemingly vanished, the highwaymen tried to fall back into their old routine. The bloody liquor flowed, and cards were dealt, but it was clear from the outset that things had undoubtedly changed. Jamie, Oliver, and Shinji sat around the green-topped card table playing a game of stud poker. Though nearly every hand was interrupted by either Jamie losing count of the cards he was dealing or Oliver seemingly caught in a daydream. Shinji watched the card play and the rest of the room for that matter with an unnerving intensity. His head would come around and stare at anyone in the room that made a sound as if startled by the words that were spoken.
Cort, Father Callahan, and Jerry sat around their own table, Danny sat a few feet away, tied to a chair. The teen had struggled at first but now seemed content to just stare longingly at the syringe that Cort had pulled from the young man’s arm. It rested, at least for now, just to the Cavalryman’s right, its point driven deeply into the table top. Cort wasn’t drinking. Instead, he sat quietly and cleaned his revolver. The old gun lay on the tabletop in pieces as Cort methodically wiped every piece down with one of Al’s bar rags. Father Callahan it seemed felt necessary to make up for the Lieutenant’s lack of drinking. The man of God had a dozen empty shot glasses laid out on the table as he slumped forward in his chair, at times fighting to remain upright. Occasionally his nondrinking hand would reach up to touch the worn face of his Bible where it lay.
“None of this makes any damn sense,” Jerry pointed out not for the first time.
When no one responded, he continued, “Why would he leave? He knew we were coming right back. I mean where else does he think we could go?”
“I don't’ know,” Cort admitted with a sigh, “but does it really matter? It doesn’t change a damn thing.”
“Hey stop talking about me like I’m not even fucking here!” Danny shouted from his seat.
“I got friends, I know people, people that would pay you to let me go. Pay you whatever you want,” Danny pleaded.
“Is that so kid?” Jamie replied with a laugh, “Like who? Who would pay anything for your scrawny ass?”
“People…my parents for starters. They got money, lots of it,” Danny promised.
“You’re going to find out pretty quickly kid you’re not in Kansas anymore, and your money isn’t worth shit around here. In fact, there isn’t much worth anything at all. Speaking of which I think it’s about time we livened this boring ass game up. What do you say, Olly?” Jamie asked reshuffling the cards vigorously.
The Dragoon looked up at Jamie for a moment and then nodded once.
“Let’s say 5 seconds this time, make it interesting,” Jamie said.
With that, the gunslinger began to deal the cards out between himself, Oliver and Shinji. The Mongolian warrior watched the dealing intently, his eyes set in deep contemplation. Oliver seemed to be lost again in his own thoughts, his hands not even moving to collect the cards quickly piling up in front of him. Shinji reached out to touch the cards, but then hesitated for just a moment and pushed the pile of cards away from him.
“What in the hell Shinji? Take your fucking cards!” Jamie said pushing the pile back in the warrior’s direction.
Shinji would not relent and shoved the pile back across the table adamantly, flipping and bending dozens of them in the process.
“You fuck!” Jamie shouted drawing a pistol and casually pointing it at the Mongolian.
“I ought to drill you and take my 5 seconds on account of you splashing the goddamn pot. Now, what the fuck do you think about that?”
Shinji looked up meeting Jamie’s eyes, his mouth formed into an awkward shape.
“Nnnnnnoooooo….,” Shinji said.
Every head in the bar came up, and all eyes fell upon Shinji. A look of complete shock came across Jamie’s face. He lowered his pistol, his anger replaced, for at least the moment, by astonishment.
“Did you just fucking speak?” Jamie demanded.
Shinji’s eyes now starred openly and ticked back and forth as if locked in the deepest of concentration. He licked his lips, hesitated and then spoke again.
“I…ssssaaayyyys…..nnnnoooo…..cccaaarrrdss….nooo mmoorrreee,” Shinji said in slow, broken English.
“He did it again! You hear that! That fucker just spoke American!” Jamie exclaimed pointing at Shinji.
The rest of the riders quickly gathered around the card table. They stood around in stunned amazement watching the Mongolian as he seemed to discover speech right in front of their eyes.
“I knew it motherfucker, you’ve been holding out on us this whole damn time. Playing the idiot, just waiting for your chance to…to…,” Jamie trailed off.
“Why in the fuck would you do that?”
Shinji looked around the room his gaze meeting every eye only to ultimately settle back on to Jamie.
“Jaammie…” he began.
“That’s right,” the gunfighter said pointing to himself and then said slowly, “I’m Jamie. Jamie, I’m your friend.”
Shinji looked at Jamie oddly and slowly shook his head. He then spoke again, “FFFFuuuccckkk yyyoouuu…Jamie. Fucckk Yoouu!”
The Rose erupted into laughter as Jamie first stared back in surprise at Shinji and then looked around at the rest of the laughing riders in obvious confusion. But Shinji wasn’t done sharing revelations with the group, and as the laughter died away, he spoke again.
“I…Shinji of the hundred ponies…I…I haavvee… hear…you all…talk…verryyy muccchhh…for long time. I…I undddeerrstand…muuccchhh…of what…yous allll speak. Verrryy Much,” Shinji said.
“Why wait all that time to speak Shinji? Why now?” Jerry asked watching the warrior intently.
Shinji paused for a moment as if considering and then spoke. “I..I..not know. I could not…make words?”
“Well you’re sure as hell making words now,” Cort pointed out.
“Yes,” Shinji replied nodding slowly, “I don’t know…how?”
Jerry stood abruptly shaking his head, none of this made any sense. Shinji had ridden across this hellish land for nearly 1000 years if he had to guess. Now today, when they
go out on a simple errand for a demon he just now realizes that he can speak English? Jerry glanced around at the group all of whom were now eyeing Shinji expectantly as if watching a dog that had just learned a new trick.
“Things are getting strange around here, something is…is different,” Jerry blurted out.
“The guy who has been here like two damn minutes’ thinks things are different,” Jamie mocked shaking his head.
“No, he’s right,” Oliver cut in, “I have been thinking about my kids, my family…a lot.”
“That isn’t anything new. Nearly every time we visit that creepy church we have to kill you to get you away from that place. You’re always bellyaching about your dead kids,” Jamie shot back.
“That’s one of the things that's different. It’s true, while I’m there all I can do is think about them, I can think of little else. How they suffered, how they died and were buried in a pauper's grave. How I failed them in the end. This, these memories are…different,” Oliver said.
“How so? How are they different?” Cort asked quietly.
Oliver looked up at the Cavalryman meeting his eyes, “The last day before my troop took to the ships in London we spent together. We packed a basket of simple fair and spent the afternoon in a small park. My little one, Olly played by the edge of a pond and chased the ducks. Katherine sat near us in the grass whispering into the ear of the rag doll my wife had made for her. My wife…,” Oliver looked away and paused for a moment before he continued.
“Her name was Madeline, but to me, she was always Maddy,” Oliver said recalling the small detail even as he spoke.
“We sat close to one another in the grass and watched the children play. Neither of us speaking of what could happen, each of us knowing the dangers that I would face. We were just trying to be happy with the moment, with our one last perfect day,” Oliver’s voice cracked towards the end, and he looked away.
A moment later he said, “I couldn’t have told you any of that before today. I didn’t remember it. Now I wonder how I could have ever forgotten such a thing.”
Cort looked around at the riders, Shinji sat staring intently at nothing, but his lips moved quickly. His mouth forming words that had been just out of reach until now. Oliver sat down heavily his eyes moist with distant memories. His face twisting from looks of pain to those of joy.
Hell's Highwaymen Page 19
