Mina nodded and the two of us left the station, heading over to where I’d left my skidder and my boots. Rain was soaking everything now, blasting sideways through the empty streets. “We done, then, sheriff?”
“Yeah,” I said, slipping my soaked feet into my boots. “Just stay safe in the storm.”
“You, too.” Her voice was almost a whisper. She ran to the Dry Goat, where she had been sheltering before I’d dragged her out into the storm. Lightning cracked across the sky, lighting up the boiling, dark clouds.
“Not planning on it,” I said under my breath.
Seconds later. I was rocketing though the turbulent sky, lightning flashing all around me.
Chapter 18
Frigid air filled my lungs a hundred meters above the rolling white clouds. They looked so harmless from above, like a fluffy avalanche of cotton balls tumbling to the east. To the west I could see the wall approaching. We would have time, I estimated, but just barely.
A wave of dizziness drifted over me. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen or maybe it was the way the clouds moved below me. It was hard to orient myself up there. I gripped my Smith and Wesson hard in my left hand.
I was nervous. My heart beat too fast and my right hand shook as I loaded the weapon. It had been that way since I had re-enabled my tech. Was it my own fear of death that made me nervous? Were Ma Brown’s emotions being pushed down on me? Maybe it was my fear of not being in control of my own emotions. If I lost control now, I was bound to make a mistake.
For instance, I couldn’t decide whether or not I should really be using the Red Number Fives.
Red Number Fives were invented by a man named Ernest Redd near the end of the Civil War. They were a solution to the escalating arms race between armor and bullets. Red Number Fives would punch through the armored hull of a tank if you hit it straight on. Someone had explained it to me years ago. The bullets came with a nano-pulse sheath to disable powered shielding. Also, there was something to do with a plasma core and black metal tip. I understood the bit about black metal. It’ll punch through armored skin without any trouble at all. It’ll kill pretty much anyone it hits.
That’s why I never used them before.
I rolled one of the crimson bullets in my fingers and watched the reflections of the storm in its surface. Did I really want to kill Sheriff Swayle? When I thought about it, my brain got all tangled up. I hated the guy for everything he’d done to me. It was wrong how he’d sent the bounty hunters after me. It was horrible how he had treated the Cinco Armas, even if they were a bunch of borderline criminals.
Yet the sheriff had agreed to settle our differences like men. I had to respect the man for that. Still, it wouldn’t be right for me to use non-lethal bullets in a duel. That would be dishonoring the tradition.
I finished loading the gun with specials and took another moment to breath in the icy, thin air.
This was it. It was time to get everything taken care of. I pushed the bike forward and rocketed down into the boiling clouds.
The world flared around me as lightning struck my skidder the instant I entered the cloud.
Next thing I knew, I was falling without a ride. Pain tore through my body, like every muscle was struggling to fight against itself.
I shook my head and looked around. Air screamed in my ears and lightning flashed all around. The wet air was charged. It felt like it might crack me once again before long.
The sky opened up below me.
I could see it all from up here. Straight below me, the Brown Ranch sprawled out for kilometers. The black windmill fields pulsed greedily in the wind. Spinning below was my skidder. The bike had shut down and was in free fall just like me.
I thought that this was it. An eerie calm fell over me. God in his might had struck me down with lightning. I wasn’t dead yet, but I would be. Soon. He was telling me once more that my time was done.
The Almighty should have known that I would not take such a subtle hint.
My duster had loops that were attached to my legs so that it wouldn’t flap too much in the wind. I spread my legs and angled myself downward. I felt like a damn flying squirrel. I approached the spinning skidder.
Thunder cracked and the sky lit up again. In the flash of light, I spotted something else falling just above me. The Browning was spinning farther away and out of reach.
The skidder was close now. The bike was almost within reach, but it was spinning so fast I wasn’t sure I could hold on. I shoved my metallic hand into the spinning vehicle to slow it down before attempting to grab it with my good hand.
It worked but the force spun me around and sent me tumbling away. I caught the air with my coat again and tried to reorient myself.
The world was getting closer. I could make out the tiny ranch house and barn. Figures moved around down there, and I could make out a cluster of activity.
With my black metal hand, I grabbed at the bike.
This time it worked. My three fingers clamped on hard and I was able to pull myself into the seat.
I clamped my left hand on hard, not wanting to lose control again. With my other hand I started fiddling with the controls. The antigrav wasn’t working at all. Normal controls were completely lost.
I set the jets to point straight down and cranked the power all the way up.
My hand hovered over the button.
Raindrops were falling straight down. I looked at one, focused on it falling in its little, round perfection. The drop was just in front of my face, falling at the exact same speed. I marveled at its beauty. Nature had made this perfect beauty. Nature had made millions of them and sent them to the dry land to give us life. In return, we had given back nothing.
I pounded the button and fired the jets. At the same instant, lightning lit up the world and thunder cracked through the sky. Blue flames fired straight down and my gut felt like it was going with it. My free fall ended abruptly and I slowed.
The skidder hit the ground hard, sending a shockwave up through my spine.
I stood from the crash, somehow mostly uninjured. My heart was pounding on the walls of my chest like it was trying to punch its way free. Looking around, I determined that I was behind the house, but I’d drifted off target by a kilometer. Windmills buzzed all around me.
It was nearly noon. I stood and ran.
I slowed to a walk and gasped for breath once I was close. As I left the last line of windmills I saw something I was extremely happy to see.
It was my hat.
Ben was sitting behind the house feeding the baby Toby from a bottle. The chameleon poncho was draped over the two of them, protecting and partially hiding them both. I walked up to him and held out my hand.
His eyes narrowed, but he knew what I wanted. He took off the hat and handed it to me.
“I was just keeping it warm for you.”
“I bet.”
“Wasn’t sure you were coming back.”
“I wasn’t sure either.”
“You gonna quit fucking this up?”
I put on my hat. A black bird circled low, silhouetted by the flashing sky. When it landed on the roof of the house, I could see that it was a crow. It was a symbol of luck. It was a good omen.
“Yes, son. I do believe I am.”
The rain stopped.
There was no wind.
I walked around the side of the house to see what waited for me. It was more than I expected and everything I hoped. Murderers and madmen waited with lawmen and outlaws. Nearly the entire congregation had also decided to attend. However this turned out, there would be plenty of witnesses.
The time had come to sort the good from the bad.
Chapter 19
Everything was silent. Lazy wisps of steam drifted up from the hot, wet ground. In the distance, a dark wall stretched from field to sky. Yellow light flickered in its midst.
The Cinco Armas gang floated in a combination of skidders and cruisers in the middle ground between the barn and the house. The tensio
n with which they gripped the controls of their vehicles suggested they might bolt at any second. All together, they formed a semicircle with the line between the barn and the house as the dividing border. From the backseat of what used to be my own cruiser, Court alone was relaxed, gazing down at us with a look of mild contempt.
Opposite the swarm of outlaws was a much smaller contingent representing law and order. On the ground, I saw Trish in her cruiser. The Reverend Sharpe looked like he had been bolted to the backseat. He looked upset for reasons I could only guess.
Behind Trish, near the house, there was a cluster of townsfolk and ranchers, many of whom I recognized. The dentist Dr. Cornsley was there, hanging close and twisting his hands together in apparent nervous agitation. Ma Brown was there, of course. She scowled at me. It was a frozen kind of scowl that melted not one bit when I met her gaze and tipped my hat. The boy, Francis, was clinging to her hip. Some of the others from the good reverend’s congregation had showed up. Whether they were there to protest the arrest of their reverend or to just visit Ma Brown, I did not know. Maybe they were only there to see the good show I was fixing to put on.
Near the house was a vehicle I did not recognize. It was a truck, a freight hauler with Goodwin Dairy printed on the side. It floated a few feet up. On the ground in front of it were two men I recognized. The first was Jenkins from Goodwin Dairy. I had given him a call after the little incident at the church. I figured he might want to be here for this. Next to him, cuffed and tied, was shiny-haired Billy Sharpe.
I tipped my hat to Jenkins and then turned to face the sheriff.
“‘Mornin’, sheriff,” I said.
“‘Mornin’.”
“You been in one of these before, son?”
“I’ll do what I need to do.” His dark eyes were on my metal hand. I figured he thought that was the biggest threat.
I brushed back the coat on my right side, revealing the Smith and Wesson 500 in its holster. It was unclipped. The safety was off.
A wave of lethargy swept over me, making my arms feel heavy and my neck stiff. This was hopelessness and I knew it wasn’t mine. It was a product of the machines in my blood. A glance over at Ma Brown told me she was feeling pretty much the same. I wiggled my fingers and shook the slowness out of them. A good lawman knows what to do with out-of-control emotions. A good lawman ignores them.
Not that I was still a good lawman. At that point, I’d had enough of the law. I was there to clear my name or die trying. If I had to die, I figured it might as well be in front of everyone so they’d know what sort of lawman they had as my replacement.
“You see that crow up there?” I said, indicating the black bird that was still perched up on the roof.
He nodded.
“When that bird flies, we shoot.”
The sheriff pushed back his coat, revealing a weapon in its holster. It was something fancy—something made of shiny metal with a long barrel and a black cylinder that spun. It reminded me of Court’s weapon, only bigger.
“That a needler?”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the crow.
“Trish,” I spoke a little louder than needed. “What’d you say killed Sam yesterday?”
“Needles.” She was speaking a little louder than necessary too. A ripple of movement passed through the Cinco Armas members.
“Care to explain, sheriff?” I said.
There was a long pause. “I began watching Deputy Chin’s vid feed when I had such trouble locating you. I saw the incompetence and brutality with which you interviewed that gangster, but I also saw his guilt. I could not allow him to walk free.”
“He wasn’t guilty.”
“He ran when I tried to arrest him. He was going to fight.”
“He warned Ben of the danger.” I said. “What you did was you murdered him.”
The sheriff’s voice dropped to a growl. “He was conspiring against the people of the city. He had to be stopped. They all need to be stopped.”
“They all?”
“They all. You all. You outlanders think you got all the power, just because you control all the food. You people think there’s nothing wrong with making a play for control of the city with your emo nannies and iron grip on our power supply.” He looked around at everyone watching. “We’ve had enough of it! We don’t want a war, but we’ve had enough!”
“So you murdered the kid.”
“I killed one criminal.”
“Speaking of murder,” I said, turning to Trish. “You ever run that blood scan on Mr. Brown?”
“Checked out normal, except—”
“Nannies?”
“Yup.”
“Special ones, right? Nonstandard.”
“Yup. Aggressive. Bovine-grade.”
A low rumble of thunder swept across the field. The crow spread its wings and flexed a few times. It shifted from one foot to the other.
I looked at Ma Brown. Francis was still clinging to her. His face was buried in her side. Her square jaw was set hard and her eyes were focused right at me. My heart raced and I felt a pressure on my lungs. The hopelessness was swept away under a flow of unplaced anger. Behind Ma Brown I saw the dentist, Dr. Cornsley, pick something up off the ground. I couldn’t see what it was. He looked just as angry as her. This was going to get ugly fast.
“Mrs. Brown,” I said. “You wanna tell us a story about what happened that night or do you want me to take a stab at it?”
Her face hardened even more, which I didn’t even think was possible.
“Well, I’ll give it a shot and you let me know if I’m close.” I glanced up at the crow again. The sheriff was still staring it down, but it hadn’t moved. I figured I’d know when it did.
“That night, Dan showed up smelling of drink, just like you said, but he wasn’t alone.” I paused as a flash of lightning set off a nearly deafening crack of thunder. “He brought a friend. A lady friend, but he told you there wasn’t nothin’ going on.”
I faltered for a second when I saw what the dentist had picked up. It was my Browning. By the look of it, he’d managed to activate the power cells.
“Now,” I continued, “whether or not you believed him, I don’t know. I think you wanted to believe him, though. That’s when the good Reverend showed up and offered to help.”
Reverend Sharpe pulled at his bonds but was unable to move. “I have done nothing wrong in the eyes of the lord,” he said in a quiet voice. He turned his eyes my way. “It is he who wants to ruin our good work, Mrs. Brown.”
The grip on my chest tightened.
“That might be true, but listen to my story for a moment.” I stole another glance at the crow. It was making me nervous, but I wanted to get this out before the sheriff and I ended things. “Reverend, you offered Mr. Brown a baptism knowing full well what would happen. Cleansed of his sins and all that, right?”
The elder Sharpe nodded.
“Thing is, I’ve seen how you baptize. You use fire for show and a special ingredient that I bet most folks in your church don’t know about. You use the emo chip embedded in your most faithful follower to force faith upon anyone who has those particular nannies in their system. Nannies they get from drinking contaminated milk.”
“I only show them the truth, that they might be saved.”
“You’d like to save more than just us, though. Sheriff Swayle’s theory is right, isn’t it?” I nodded to Jenkins. “Your son put together a pretty nice distribution network in Austin, skirting around the regulations that Big Milk usually has in place. How many faithful would you say you’ve made?”
“Not enough.”
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” My breathing was shallow. Sweat beaded on my brow and I felt a chill.
The reverend’s eyes were downcast. He didn’t say a word.
“The interesting part about this faithful baptism of yours is that people tend to say what’s on their minds, don’t they? Mrs. Brown, your husband told all, didn’t he?”
&n
bsp; She took a step forward, but Trish hopped out of her cruiser and blocked her. I was struggling to pull air into my lungs. My heart was racing even faster than it had at the church. There was pain, sharp pain. I blinked hard a couple times, trying to clear my vision.
“J.D.,” Trish said. “What’s going on?”
“Brown,” I said. “She’s proving a point. With enough nannies. She can kill a person. Just by hating them hard enough.” I gasped for air.
Trish turned to Ma Brown. “Stop it, Mrs. Brown.”
She didn’t stop.
“You don’t need to do this. You can’t win if you kill him!”
I dropped to a knee. My vision was turning black around the edges. I couldn’t talk. I wanted to tell them the rest. I needed to tell them about how Ma Brown was not a murderer. She was only the weapon.
“Well, hell,” said Trish. She stepped forward and cracked Ma Brown on the back of the head hard. Ma Brown collapsed but so did I.
My focus shifted. I looked away from Ma Brown and the strangely emotionless Francis kneeling over her. There were tears in the eyes of his expressionless face.
The pulsing windmills in the background drew me in with their hypnotic pull. They still spun. The closest ones spun slowly in the dead air. Farther away, blades spun like saws cutting madly at the sky.
Trish glared at Ma Brown’s followers. “Don’t move.” The dentist dropped the Browning and put up his hands. He looked confused as he drifted backward into the crowd.
Trish ran over to me. “J.D, get up. You’re in a gunfight, remember?”
I coughed a little, managed to pull in a little air. My heart was still racing. My lungs felt like they were full of hot lead. Ma Brown was out cold, but her last E-chip signal seemed to still be in full force.
In the distance, the line of speeding windmills was rapidly approaching. The next wave of the storm was fixing to hit.
“Fine.” Trish stood. “I’m standing in for J.D.”
I shook my head but couldn’t talk. Pain like liquid fire had spread from my chest to my arm, down to my fingers. Fighting the blackness that was threatening to take me, I forced my hand into my pocket, fumbling with the e-cuffs.
Justice in an Age of Metal and Men Page 16
