by J. Stone
"I ain't got no bounty on me," Harlow replied.
"Well that may very well be true," Vincent agreed. "But I tell you what, slim. I'm willing to bet by the time we get back to town, there'll be one waiting for us. If not, I’m fine with that too."
Reluctantly, the man strapped the restraints around his wrists and stood. Vincent gestured for him to walk toward the exit, and when they arrived in the sunlight, Harlow asked, "Since when does a scum bounty hunter care about a damn missionary anyway."
"I can't say I do, slim," Vincent replied. "But you sure as shit stole the wrong damn horse."
Irritated and no longer willing to listen to him, the bounty hunter removed his pistol and hit Harlow in the back of his head with the butt of the gun. He retrieved a rope from Polly's saddle and tied it around Harlow's feet. Once they were secure, Vincent went to the opposite side of his horse and pulled, hoisting Harlow on top of Polly. He then used the excess rope to tie Harlow's hands to his feet, so he was firmly strapped to the horse.
With his bounty in place, Vincent began the walk back to town and whistled sharply to his horse. Polly whinnied and trotted along behind the bounty hunter carrying Harlow as she went. The trip back to the main street of town from the mine on the outskirts didn’t take him much time. Before long, he was back in town and passing by people as they began their mornings.
Despite the weeks Vincent had spent in Chrome City since the sweeper Bot cure, he had not actually turned in a bounty. The majority of his time had been spent in the Arcadia, gambling and drinking his funds away. Returning to what he was skilled at felt comforting to him, and he had acquired the taste for more. Vincent tied Polly up outside the sheriff's jailhouse and began to enter, but he found that someone was exiting, as he approached.
"What'd ya got there?" he asked.
The man wore a bright, chrome-colored badge, marking him as the sheriff in town. He wore a hat similar to Vincent's and had a general scruffiness that seemed to mirror the bounty hunter. His shirt was checkered red and gray under a worn, black vest and his black pants were largely concealed by a pair of black chaps. Even his boots were black, but they were accented with silver engravings stretching along the side, and there were spurs at the heel.
"I imagine you heard about the guy that killed the missionary over at the Arcadia," Vincent began. With a nod toward Harlow, he continued, "That's your man."
The sheriff looked over at Vincent's horse and his bounty and noted, "He sure ain't much to look at now, is he?" Looking back into his jailhouse, he called out, "Mitch! Come and collect a prisoner."
One of the sheriff's deputies emerged from the jailhouse to retrieve Harlow. Vincent untied the still unconscious man and tossed him to the ground. Mitch took the man from there, slowly dragging him up the steps of the jailhouse and further inside. Vincent, meanwhile, began wrapping his rope around his forearm, while the sheriff approached him.
"Don't believe we've met," the sheriff said. "Name's Virgil Kane. How 'bout you, stranger?"
"Vincent Rourke," he replied.
"So how'd you come by this scum, Rourke?" Kane asked.
"When he fled the Arcadia, he made the mistake of stealing my horse," Vincent explained. "Since I had to go and get her anyway, I thought I'd bring him back in and see if there was a bounty posted."
"Bounty hunter, eh?" the sheriff asked. "We'll, I'm afraid no one has bothered with a bounty yet, and I don't expect they woulda if you hadn't brought him in. No one's gonna get too upset about a dead churchman out here. At least your horse got justice, eh? Though you did save me the trouble of hunting him down. Least I can offer you is a deputy's pay for the day and to point you toward another job."
"I suppose it'll do," Vincent replied, placing the rope back on his saddle and hooking the hand restraints on his belt.
Kane headed up the stairs and into his jailhouse, gesturing for Vincent to follow him. Inside, the bounty hunter saw the deputy, Mitch, stowing Harlow in one of the cells at the back of the jailhouse. Kane, meanwhile, went to a corner safe, twisted in a combination on the dial, and swung it open. The safe appeared to be loaded nearly to the edge with gold coins, so much so that bags were piled over on each other to fit. From inside, Kane pulled out a small coin purse and proceeded to close the door back, spinning the dial to lock it.
He then moved over to a desk, picked up a single poster from a stack, and returned to Vincent. "Here you are," Kane said, handing the bounty hunter the coin purse. "And here's the bounty I mentioned."
Vincent stowed the coins in an inside pocket on his duster and then took the poster from Kane, looking it over. "Felix Ellington?" He asked. "What's so special about him?"
"Felix was a slave miner working for the Graham Mining Company," the sheriff explained. "He got grand illusions of freedom, escaped from the mine and headed over to the local cathouse, the Angel Ranch, also owned by Graham. From there, he killed one of Graham’s employees, Thomas Bloomfield, and abducted one of his girls."
"Sounds like Felix caused an awful lotta trouble for Graham," Vincent replied.
"The Graham Mining Company wants their property back," Kane explained. "Both if it can be managed. You think you can handle this one?"
"One escaped slave?" Vincent asked. "Shouldn't be a problem."
Chapter 6. Rowland and the Genotoxin
Rowland had not slept in fifty-six hours, as he had been working tirelessly on finding a cure or at the very least a treatment to the genotoxin working its way through Erynn’s system. He retrieved a syringe of biojunk from one of his coat pockets and injected it into his left arm, just above the chrome gauntlet encasing his hand.
In order to stay awake for such long periods of time, he had quickly concocted a new form of the drug. It allowed him to stay conscious and focused on the task at hand. This was in addition to the elation and sensation of warmth he felt from the normal effects.
Rowland released a sigh of relief through his respirator and closed his eyes, as the drug shot through his veins. He rolled down the left sleeve of his lab coat and returned his mind back to work.
The day prior, he had acquired a new sample of Erynn’s blood and hair. With these, he had the intent to develop a new injection that he hoped would eliminate the toxin. It wasn’t without risks, however, as the treatment would actually rewrite the recipient’s genes to a certain degree. He had tested his concoction on several lab animals with varying results. Without a pure sample of the genotoxin, he could not be certain what effect the injection would have.
On a chalkboard near his worktable, he had written out her existing symptoms:
Headaches
Nausea
Irritability
Beneath that was a list of possible future symptoms, should the genotoxin further degrade her:
Blindness
Paralysis
Fever
Beside both those lists, he had also written up possible side effects of his treatment:
Blood Clotting
Light Sensitivity
Green Urine
Muscle Stiffness
Hallucinations
Sleepwalking
Mild Death
Loss of Smell
He was mixing the last chemical into his batch, when Erynn entered his lab. Rowland paid her no attention and put down one of the vials. He picked up a long, metal stick and dipped it into the thick concoction he had prepared.
“Max,” she announced, trying to get his attention.
The professor continued swirling the pink contents he had prepared, ignoring her.
“Max,” she said a little louder.
Still, he focused on the viscous, pink fluid before him.
“Max!” she finally shouted.
Rowland jerked and nearly dropped the container he had prepared. “Oh, hello there, little Ryn. I was just about to come looking for you.”
“Hmm. What are you making?” Erynn asked. “Smells like bubble gum.”
“This is the treatment I have been manufac
turing for your condition,” he explained.
“I don’t have to drink it, do I?” she inquired looking at the rather large collection of fluid.
“No, it will be a series of injections,” he answered.
“You and your needles,” she replied. “You think this one will work?”
“Results were promising,” he explained.
“I suspect that means it didn’t outright kill the lab rats you injected it into?” she asked.
“All still alive,” he said, pulling a syringe from a pocket in his white lab coat.
As he sucked the fluid into the glass tube, Erynn asked, “Don’t suppose you have any idea what kind of side effects this one might have?”
“Mmm,” he said with a nod toward the chalkboard.
“What does mild death mean?” she asked looking over the list scrawled on his chalkboard.
“Oh, right,” Rowland replied. He sat the larger container down and walked over to the chalkboard, erasing the word, ‘Mild.’ “I had nearly forgotten.”
Sighing she said. “You’re a constant source of comfort, you know that, Max?”
“Ready?” he asked, returning to her with the filled syringe.
“Not really, but go ahead,” she answered. “I can’t imagine you could make me feel any worse.”
“Take a seat,” he instructed.
She complied; sitting in the same chair that she had the day before when he retrieved the blood sample. He gently placed the needle to the skin at the inside of her elbow, penetrating her flesh and injecting the fluid into her bloodstream. He pressed down on the plunger of the syringe until the contents were emptied into Erynn’s arm. Rowland removed the needle slowly and wiped away a small amount of blood with a white cotton swab.
“How do you feel?” he asked after setting the syringe back on the table.
“I’m not sure…” she replied, blinking heavily several times. “It’s my eyes… Everything looks different… brighter…”
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I thought light sensitivity might be a factor.”
“It’s not that,” she explained. “It’s something else. I just see things clearer somehow.”
“Interesting,” he said, picking up a journal and scribbling some thoughts down. “Anything else?”
“You know,” Erynn began. “My head has ached all day, but now… it’s finally stopped throbbing. And my nausea,” she continued. “I don’t feel like I’m going to have to run to a bathroom at any given moment. What’d you put in this thing, Max?”
“Bit of this and that,” he said with a certain smile hidden under his respirator. “Understand though, that this will only treat and mask your symptoms. I will need to continue to research a permanent cure. What I really need is a pure sample of the genotoxin that you were injected with. I believe I could easily perfect the cure then.”
“Good luck,” Erynn replied. “I imagine the only place you’re going to be able to get a hold of that is back in Cultwick.”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Quite right.”
“I haven’t felt this good in weeks, Max,” she told him, hopping up from the chair. “It may be only a treatment, but I’m not going to let this go to waste. If anyone needs me for a while, tell them I’m indisposed. I’m going to go find Pearl, and uh…” She shifted her eyes to the side, trying to choose the appropriate word before deciding on, “celebrate.”
Rowland nodded, as Erynn left his makeshift laboratory. He took several more notes on her reaction in his journal, and when he looked up again his worktable was clean and organized.
“Germ?” he asked looking around. The professor’s eyes caught a glimpse of the off-white rat sweeping up a pile of broken and discarded glass vials with what Rowland continued to think were Germ’s favorite possessions.
“My old friend!” he shouted happily. “Did you just get back?”
“Afraid not, sir,” Germ explained. “I’ve been cleaning your lab for some time now. I didn’t want to disturb you. You appeared to be working busily.”
“Oh,” Rowland replied. “It seems I was more invested in my work than I thought.”
“Have you been able to find anything to help Madam Clover?” Germ inquired.
“I gave her a new treatment,” the professor answered cheerfully. “Her headache vanished, and her nausea has ceased. I believe she went to have sex with Pearl.”
“I don’t think I needed to know that last bit, sir,” Germ said. Eager to change the subject, he continued, “I don’t suppose you have any pain medication with you? I’ve had a headache for the past couple days.”
“In my bag,” he replied with a gesture to a table. “Was your trip to, uh… where did you go again?”
“Tybury, sir,” the rat explained, digging through the professor’s bag and finding a bottle of pills.
“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I do not believe I have ever been there. Why did you go?”
“To steal some of the fort’s munitions and supplies, sir,” Germ replied after swallowing one of the pills. “Master Burgan expects the rebellion will be in desperate need when the corps attacks and he wants to be prepared.”
“I see,” Rowland said.
“Also included in the shipment was a couple crates of Tybury Cardinal, sir,” Germ began, walking over to a satchel. Pulling out two bottles of the wine, he continued, “I thought you might like a taste.”
“I… suppose… I could take a brief break from my research,” the professor said, setting down his notebook.
Germ and Rowland both took a seat at a set of stools away from the main worktable. Germ popped the cork from the wine bottle, using his large front buckteeth, while Rowland grabbed two empty glasses from the table, placing them in front of Germ’s reach. The professor proceeded to take off his respirator, which was an increasingly rare sight. The rat poured out two glasses of the thick, red wine, wriggling his nose side to side, as he smelled the fruity liquid.
Germ picked up a glass and Rowland mirrored him. “To your success in ridding Madam Clover of the toxin, sir,” he toasted.
“Right,” the professor replied, gently tapping Germ’s glass with his own. “The toxin.” Rowland quickly gulped the glass of wine, while Germ had only taken a sip. The rat placed a hand over his chest and rubbed at his shirt with an anguished expression.
“What is it?” Rowland asked.
“Just a bit of heartburn, sir,” Germ replied.
Frowning, Rowland placed his glass down on the table and stood up. He said, “I should get back to it.”
“Not so fast, Max,” Erynn instructed, entering his lab with Pearl and Tern behind her. “I’m feeling fine now. Sit back down. You can take a little break. Germy, pour a couple more glasses.”
Erynn grabbed two glasses from a nearby cabinet and placed them on the table. She and Pearl joined them, pulling up a couple more chairs, while the rat poured the wine for them and refilled the professor’s glass.
“It’s good to see you back here, Germy,” Erynn said, as she sat down.
“And you, ma’am,” he replied, pulling out his smoking pipe and filling it with tobacco. “I heard the professor gave you a treatment. Are you feeling better?”
Erynn smiled and answered, “I feel much better now.”
“What all did Olivia and ya find in Tybury?” Pearl asked before taking a sip of the wine.
“Ammunitions, armor, rations, and the like, Madam Hicks,” Germ replied, lighting the pipe with a match and puffing several breaths on the mouthpiece. “I suppose what was really of interest though was the map we found of Pendulum Falls.”
“A map?” Erynn asked.
“That’s right, ma’am,” the rat replied. “The corps had drawn out attack plans for the city. I took a drawing of it and have already showed it to Master Burgan. I heard from the other rebels that Pendulum Falls seceded from the empire. Is that true, ma’am?”
“It is,” she replied. “I was in the mayor’s office when he agreed to it.”
> “They’re sayin’ a war is comin’ this way now,” Pearl said. “Guess that map proves it.”
“We’ll be ready though,” Erynn said. “Emma and I have been building those turrets to help defend Pendulum Falls from something exactly like this. The confederacy has gathered everything they got here.”
“Let’s hope you’re right, ma’am,” Germ suggested.
Erynn suddenly grimaced placing two fingers to her temple and rubbing.
“What is it?” Rowland asked.
“Just another... never mind...” she replied.
“Fiona?” Pearl asked.
Erynn shot a glance to Pearl before subsequently sighing and replying, “Yeah.”
“You mean the psychotic woman from the center, ma’am?” Germ asked.
“Whatever they did to her has started to have an effect,” Pearl explained. “She’s been dreamin’ about Fiona, and she says she can see into her mind.”
“What?” Rowland asked. “I certainly do not like this.”
“I know, Max,” Erynn replied, stilling rubbing her temple. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“That was a mistake,” Rowland assured her. “This could have an effect on the treatment. I will need to take this into consideration.”
“It’s not hurting me, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the genotoxin,” she explained. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” he asked. “You have a psychopath rooting around inside your head!”
Erynn looked down at the table, refusing to meet the professor’s eyes. Rowland, meanwhile, picked up his glass once more and took another large gulp before setting the empty glass down on the table. He strapped the respirator back over his mouth and said, “I need to get back to my research.” He stood and wobbled a bit, reaching out his hand to the back of his chair to steady himself.
“I know this is important, sir, but perhaps you should get some rest,” Germ said, joining the professor at his side and helping Rowland to keep from falling.
“Ryn needs my help…” Rowland drowsily said, as Germ placed the professor’s arm around his shoulder to steady him.
