Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III

by A. H. Rousseau

  Everyone looked at Cassidy with shock.

  “I'm fine,” Cassidy said, dismissively. “I'm... I'm immune to bullets.”

  “None of this matters, right now. Now, we need to figure out how to proceed,” said Jebediah.

  “That's easy enough for you to say,” said the older man. “You've put all of our lives in danger for some vendetta of the U.S. Government!”

  “It's not... it's not a vendetta. It was... It was an attempt at justice.”

  “A difference of words,” said the older man with a sneer.

  “Jeb, you can't blame us for being upset,” said Cassidy. “It's on you, now. What do we do?”

  “I'm thinking,” replied Jebediah. He looked to the floor, his eyes darting about. “Here's the plan. You four can probably leave unharmed. He only wants us.”

  “What?” Cassidy said. “How do you know that?”

  “I know him. I know him better than he knows himself. In many ways he is more of a hunter than a killer. He has a prey and all that matters it that prey. He derives little pleasure from killing. Innocents only get killed when they stand in his way. He will use them, but only if necessary and available. If you four simply walk out, he will have no use for you. He will ignore you.”

  “Wow. That is a huge assumption,” said the bartender. “I'm not willing to take that risk. I'd rather live the rest of my life behind this bar.”

  Jebediah didn't answer.

  “Jeb?” asked Cassidy.

  “I still think that you should go. The most dangerous place in this town is next to us. I need to get you away from us.”

  They were interrupted by the sound of gunfire outside. Rifles and revolvers were met with the deafening wail of the Gatling guns. In between bursts of shooting, the sounds of men yelling echoed throughout main street.

  “What's that?” asked Gideon.

  Cassidy was listening intensely to the sounds, trying to make out details. After a moment, she peeked her head up over the edge of the bar and looked outside. “I think it's the Marshal. He's outside!”

  “They're going to get cut to ribbons out there!” said Gideon.

  “Where are they?” asked Cassidy. “I can't make them out.”

  The bartender came up next to Cassidy. “It sounds like they're across St. Louis,” said the bartender, looking over the bar.

  “Which street is that?” asked Cassidy.

  “The main one out front, right there, with the carriage rails.” Another cacophony of violence erupted outside.

  Everyone paused as the sound of chaos filled the room. “Can we still leave?” asked the elderly woman.

  Jebediah didn't respond immediately as he thought. “I'm sorry. No. Not anymore. If you wander in front of one of the Marshal's men, he won't hesitate shooting you. Worse, the Marshal may try to help you, which would put you in even greater danger.”

  “Still, we need to do something,” said Gideon. “We can't just stay in here for the rest of our lives.”

  “Why not?” asked the prostitute. “I love that idea!”

  “Well what do you propose,” asked the bartender. “They've got death machines out there. Would you like us to throw some cocktails at them and just hope they get drunk?”

  “If only I could get to my weapons on the train,” said Cassidy. They all sat there in silence for a moment as the sound of a loud explosion tore through the air, followed by the patter of debris hitting the few remaining windows of the bar. Cassidy suddenly looked up at the prostitute, her red hair a mess and her clothing in disarray.

  “How tall are you?” asked Cassidy.

  ---

  Mr. Caesar manned the turret of one of the cars which was, along with a second car, aimed at the buildings across from the hotel, smoke billowing out of some of them. One of the other cars was still aimed at the hotel, monitoring activity. Wreckage from myriad explosions and bullets littered the street. A carriage, pulled by two horses, burned as it slowly wandered around in the park, setting some of the trees on fire. The man monitoring the hotel had his interest piqued at the sight of a hand waving a large, white, handkerchief around the corner of the hotel. The prostitute inched her way out from around the corner.

  “Boss!” yelled the gunner, the gawky man that Mr. Caesar had sent to get the attack cars. “The whore is trying to run away!”

  “Ignore her!” replied Mr. Caesar. The prostitute then began running across the street and into the park, heading in between the gazebo and the alligator garden.

  Mr. Caesar slowly turned back around with a look of vicious realization on his face. “St. Claire,” he growled to himself.

  Cassidy panted as she ran, barely fitting into the sexy clothing that the prostitute had been wearing. “God damn... how the... hell does she wear this shit?” Cassidy choked out as she ran as quickly as she could.

  Mr. Caesar turned his turret around and spun it up, training it on Cassidy who was only halfway through the park. Suddenly, a bullet ripped through his thigh. “AHH!” Mr. Caesar yelled, turning his gun back around to Marshal Stoudenmire and his crew, hiding in an alleyway between two buildings. “That's it! All of you! Rip the fucking lawman apart!” All three guns turned around to the Marshal and his men. They opened up a massive, brutal, unrelenting volley of bullets that began to literally tear the buildings apart. Panels fell, walls disintegrated, windows broke.

  While still firing, Mr. Caesar signaled to a man standing outside of the car with a throwing motion. The man nodded and retrieved a large crate from the car. Opening it, he removed some metal objects about the size and shape of a large gourde. Grabbing a hold of an attached rope, he spun the object over his head, finally lobbing it across the street. It exploded in flames on the building, covering all exposed surfaces in a burning fluid. He did it again to the building next door, and then again to another building. The oil inside caused the dry wood to catch quickly, creating an instant inferno.

  Mr. Caesar stopped firing and yelled to the man. “Give me one!” The man handed Mr. Caesar one of the fire bombs. He promptly threw it on the ground in the entrance of the alleyway, causing the ground itself to burn. “Gimme' another!” The man handed Mr. Caesar another bomb and he then threw it through the hole in the wall and into the hotel bar where it exploded on the floor near the bed, covering it with oil.

  “She's over in the train yard! Go!” Mr. Caesar bellowed. All three cars roared to life and, kicking up dirt and rocks, accelerated through the park, destroying trees and landscaping along the way, across another road, and into the train yard and its rows of freight cars.

  ---

  Cassidy ran from row to row in the yard. “Where the hell is my train!” she yelled to herself in a near panic. She stopped in fear at the sound of the car's engines rumbling nearby. She hid between two cars and, holding onto a handrail, lifted her legs off the ground. The three cars burbled around as smoke began to billow up in town. The light of the sun was becoming discolored as a sickly yellow haze slowly covered the town.

  Cassidy looked up to the top of the train car and then looked at her outfit. She tried to pat down the ridiculous, frilly skirt but failed. Scoffing, she just began to rip the entire thing off. Finishing, and after tossing the skirt on the ground, she climbed the ladder to the top of the train car. She pressed herself flat against the roof, looking around for any sight of the cars. She slowly lifted her head until, just over the top of a nearby train car, she saw the head of Mr. Caesar, standing in his turret. She dropped back down, and shimmied her way back to the ladder and down to the ground. Glancing out from behind the train car, she ran across the gap to hide between two more cars. Sticking her head out, she looked farther into the train yard, away from town, to the large maintenance house, three large entry doors along either end, with lines of freight cars inside.

  “Maybe it's on the other side,” she whispered to herself. She looked all around before finally looking straight down. She dropped down between the cars and looked up and down. The wheels and undercarriage of t
he cars provided a significant amount of cover from view. She dropped to her hands and knees and starting scurrying toward the maintenance house under the cars.

  Reaching the house, and getting out of the sun, she popped out from under the cars. She met a group of five grease-covered men huddled together, hiding from the violence outside. “Howdy,” she said to the shocked men as she walked past toward the other end of the house. Just as she was reaching the door, another of the cars rumbled into view. “Shit!” Cassidy hissed to herself, leaping between two of the rail cars. The motorcar stopped, with the gunner looking down into the maintenance house. Cassidy moved to the edge of the car, just maintaining cover. “Hey!... Hey!” she whispered loudly to the men. “Where's the fancy car? The one that came in yesterday on the busted engine?” The men didn't respond initially. They didn't even react.

  “He's watching us,” whispered one of the men, finally.

  They all waited there, motionless, silent. Finally, the burble of the engine indicated the car was moving on.

  “Ok!” said another man. “The car is all the way down by the round house.” The man said, pointing out the door where the car had just been stalking. Cassidy peered out through the freight cars and could just make out the round house, with a few engines sticking out of large doors, over five-hundred feet away.

  “Shit!” Cassidy hissed. She turned to the men. “You've got to be kidding me! Why would you put the car all the way down there?”

  “We had to put it somewhere, miss. This isn't a large yard. We can't handle an entire train just parked here for days.” Cassidy sighed.

  “Do you need to get to it?” asked another of the men.

  “Yes. Very much so!” Cassidy said back. The five men deliberated together for a moment before turning back to Cassidy. “We can help!”

  ---

  Inside the bar, Gideon and the bartender were trying to stamp out and cover the fire that Mr. Caesar's fire bomb had set.

  “We need to get this bed out of here!” yelled Jebediah as the spray of water from above glinted with firelight.

  “It's stuck in the floor!” replied the bartender.

  “We just have to get behind it. Lift it! Everyone!”

  Jebediah, Gideon, the bartender, the prostitute wearing Cassidy's clothes, and the elderly couple all put their all into it and successfully lifted the bed out of the damaged floor and onto the solid, burning floor.

  “The fire is coming up from underneath it!” yelled the older woman.

  “Here!” yelled Jebediah. “Take chairs! Push with something. We need to get it out into the street!”

  “It's too hot!” yelled the older man.

  Gideon looked around. “The area rug!”

  The bartender looked over and it immediately clicked. “Yes! Here! I'll help grab it!”

  Gideon and the bartender were then helped by the prostitute, who removed all of the furniture and lifted the ten-by-ten square area rug. The three ran it over to the fire burning under the bed and placed it on the floor where it started to become soaked with water. “It works! Push!” yelled the bartender.

  Shielded by the rug, the group managed the heave the bed onto the sidewalk and then out into the street. Its legs fell down into the dirt and then flipped over onto its top where the flames continued to slowly engulf it, sending thick, black smoke into the sky. The group stood there, panting.

  “The hotel is still on fire!” yelled the bartender, turning around. The wet rug was now starting to burn. They all ran back inside. The hotel manager had now come out of hiding and had walked in from the lobby.

  “Sheet! Blankets! Anything that we can cover this with!” yelled the bartender to the hotel manager.

  “Right away! Help me!” he replied. The older couple and the prostitute ran off to help him.

  “Grab the other rug!” said Jebediah. The three cleared some furniture off another ten-by-ten rug and performed the same act in an attempt to squelch the fire on the floor. Smoke just continued to billow out from underneath it, filling the room.

  “It's not making any difference!” yelled Gideon. “I think we should let it go!”

  “No! I'm not letting go of this!” yelled back the bartender. As they continued to try to cover the fire, the elderly couple and the prostitute, followed by the hotel manager, ran in with more sheets and blankets that they used to attempt smothering the fire. It was a battle they were losing as the fire continued to lick up from corners and around cover.

  “Gideon!” yelled Jebediah from above. Gideon stopped what he was doing and looked up into the giant hole in the ceiling to see Jebediah. “Here!” Jebediah got down on his stomach and tied a rope around one of the exposed water-spewing pipes and then threw the rope to Gideon, who began to pull the pipe down. “Don't spray it directly! It will only make it worse! Just stop everything else from burning!”

  Gideon directed the water all around the fire, keeping it mostly contained. “Try soaking the blankets! Make a wall!” said the prostitute. Gideon glanced back and forth between the sheets and the water for a moment, then looked at her and nodded. The group soaked sheets and then lined them around the fire and covered the walls in wet cloth. As they worked together, the prostitute smiled at Gideon, who didn't notice her gaze. “My name's Ethel, by the way,” she said to Gideon, smiling.

  Gideon looked up and smiled. “Gideon. Gideon Atwater.” He then went back to work soaking the sheets while Ethel continued to smile.

  Jebediah walked up behind them. “Do you have this?” he asked.

  Gideon turned and nodded. “Yes. I don't think it's going anywhere. I can't believe this worked.”

  “Good. I'm going to go help Cassidy. She's going to need it.”

  “Wait. Wait for me. I'm—”

  “No. Keep this contained. If we need you, you'll know.” Gideon did not look happy at this command, but nodded anyhow. Jebediah turned and ran out the ruined door.

  ---

  The attack car sat there, burbling. The gunner, wearing a long, heavy, leather coat and a roughly-hammered metal mask with circular windows over the eyes, turned in surprise at the sound of metal grinding against metal. Slowly, out of the maintenance house, rolled a freight car being pushed by the five men.

  “What you all doing there?” asked the gunner, suspicious, his mouth just visible beneath the metal mask.

  The five men put on a good show of being surprised. “Uh, we're moving this car over near the round house.”

  “Why?”

  “Uhhh... because we need to?”

  “Don't you hear the fighting going on out here?”

  “Yessir, we do.”

  “Why don't you stay inside?”

  “You ain't never been to El Paso before, have you?” asked another man.

  The gunner paused. “What's in it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing, huh?”

  “Yes. Empty.”

  “Empty...” The gunner spun up his turret. The five men cocked their heads in curiosity at the sound before diving to the ground as the car was ripped to shreds by a hail of bullets. Wood splinters sprayed all over the ground and the five rail workers, who lay on the ground covering their heads. As the car fired, another car pulled up behind it, with the gawky man, and watched.

  The hail stopped. Pieces of wood trickled down off from the now-ruined car. The sliding door on the side of the car suddenly gave way and fell to the ground with a clatter. As the workmen slowly lifted their heads from the ground, the door on the first attack car opened and a man carrying a machine gun stepped out and walked toward the car. He approached slowly and looked inside. He turned around.

  “Nothing!” he yelled. It's empty.

  Cassidy's muscles in her arms shook as she worked to keep herself suspended. She looked out between the train wheels and was just able to make out the man standing near the car. The man walked away, his machine gun relaxed. The gawky gunner watched. Under the freight car, Cassidy's grip with her left foot slipped and
her leg fell briefly down into view. The gawky gunner's head flicked in her direction and his eyes shrank to slits. He flicked on his gun and it began to spin.

  At that moment, one of the workmen walked out from the other side of the freight car, in the exact vicinity where the gunner had seen Cassidy's foot. The gawky gunner relaxed and turned off his gun. He stood up straight.

  “Well. It appears that your car is indeed empty,” said the other gunner. The workmen all didn't move. They just stared at the two gun cars. “Well come on, then! Move it!”

  The workmen jumped at the command and surrounded the car and prepared to push it when the sounds of gunfire erupted somewhere else in the rail yard. The two cars roared to life and, kicking up pebbles and dust, and rolled off back toward town.

  “They're gone!” said one of the workmen loudly.

  Cassidy dropped down from under the freight car with a dusty thud. She lay there for a moment. “Oh god, it hurts.”

  “You have got some strong hands on you, miss,” said a workman.

  Cassidy stood up and dusted herself off. “Uh, thanks.” She looked off toward the sound of the chaos. “I hope that's the Marshal and not Jebediah,” she said. The sound of distant swearing drifted through the air. “It's the Marshal.” Cassidy turned to the five men. “Gentlemen. Thank you for your help. Hopefully I'll live through this and we can all have a drink.” The men all nodded and smiled. Cassidy ran off at full tilt toward the round house. As she ran, appearing from behind a line of other cars, was her car. Glistening in the sun, it shined like the promised land. “Home free,” she said to herself.

  Cassidy ran up to the entrance to her car in a huff. She was breathing heavily as she burst inside of the car and ran over to the lounge area on the far end of the couch. She grabbed hold of a lamp on the wall and turned it clockwise, opening up a large compartment in the counter below. She reached in and lifted out a knitted, bulletproof vest with chest holsters for two revolvers. She tightened the straps and flicked open both guns, making sure they were loaded. She then pulled out a long, tube-like weapon with a handle on the bottom. She tossed it on the couch and pulled out a wood & leather box about two feet long, one foot wide, and one foot tall. She flicked open the latches on the front and revealed three missile-like projectiles and three grenades.