Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

And then Bert saw what had Jim’s attention.

  The mother lay dead in the street, two giant exit wounds in her back. Her throat was slit as well, a pool of crimson forming around her head in the road. Her lifeless arm was outstretched, reaching for something. The view was obstructed by Jim’s back, from where he knelt in the street. But Bert knew what she’d been reaching for. Or rather, who she’d been reaching for. Still, he forced his feet forward until he stood just behind his friend and looked over his shoulder.

  A half-eaten candy bar lay in the road, collecting debris in the drying blood.

  Jim held the boy in his arms. Lifeless, his dead eyes stared up at them. His torso was stained in crimson, the warm blood still pumping from his abdomen. He’d been shot. A small line of blood trickled from his lips, ran down the side of his mouth, and dribbled onto Jim’s arm. Bert wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Jim began to cry.

  Bert forced a shaking hand to his friend’s shoulder, fighting back his anger while his friend processed his grief through tears.

  Forcing calm breaths, Jim finally looked up at him. “Why? Why would they do this, Bert?”

  Bert didn’t answer, but glanced at Neil to make sure he was still covering them. Neil nodded and kept his eyes scanning the surrounding buildings.

  Jim looked down at the child again and said, “We can’t leave.”

  “I know,” Bert said.

  “We have to stop them, right?” Jim said, looking back up and meeting Bert’s gaze.

  Bert didn’t bother with a reply. Jim might’ve caught the look in his eyes, or perhaps they were glowing blue with magical energy, and that was reply enough. Bert drew Sharp from his sheath and pointed down the street.

  A small contingent of the Brotherhood were walking toward them.

  Neil appeared at Bert’s side, tribal designs glowing on his face. When Neil drew magical energy, invisible tattoos inked across his body lit up, black with a neon green sheen. The black symbols covered his face, like Native American war paint, and his eyes blazed green.

  Jim rose beside them, wiping away the tears and revealing his own eyes. His pupils were gone, his eyes nothing but a white mass, like ice. Bert felt the protective shield triple in strength.

  Bert glanced over at Kevin. Pink energy swirled around his hands. His eyes took on the same shade. It was best not to give him a hard time about the fact his magical aura was pink. He preferred to refer to it as salmon. Either way, he was ready.

  Last, Bert turned his gaze to Hunter. He didn’t have any magic to cast, and what he did have he couldn’t control. His eyes remained their normal shade, but they were full of rage. Bert asked, “You still worried about taking lives?”

  Hunter pulled his .357 magnum out and dual-wielded his guns. “Let’s bury these motherfuckers.”

  Bert nodded and turned back to face the Brotherhood members. They strolled calmly toward them, carrying their guns lazily in their hands. All six were of the assault variety. There were no ninjas in sight.

  The tension was thick, but Bert’s nerves were in the calm of the storm. He wondered if this was how Wyatt Earp felt before the shootout at the O.K. Corral.

  “Pay attention to the side streets,” Sharp warned. “They wouldn’t be strolling up here like big swinging dicks if they didn’t have second-rate ninjas sneaking around to flank.”

  “Watch the side streets,” Bert said aloud. “They probably have ninjas trying to creep up on us.”

  They each glanced around uneasily, and he realized this tactic would only get them killed. He added, “Neil, Jim, keep your shields up. Kevin, stay close and watch our flanks. Remember, our magic won’t touch these guys. Jim, you focus on shielding all of us. Neil, you and I have the heavy lifting. There’s no use casting directly at them, so look for a chance to use the environment. Hunter, stay in the center and shoot your guns.”

  Another idea struck him. “Sharp, when you heated up your blade and singed pig boy, was the heat purely magic? Or was the magic legitimately heating the blade?”

  It was something he’d never thought of before. If it was purely magic, the heat would dissipate as it got in range of the Brotherhood guys. However, if it was actual heat then it would still work. Both were two very different types of magic, the latter requiring much more power, but he didn’t know the limits of Sharp’s abilities.

  Sharp replied, “My shit’s legit, son!”

  Bert could already feel the blade heating up in his hand. It took on a bright orange, then transitioned to white as the temperature grew even hotter. Once again, Bert found himself in awe of the weapon.

  He moved to the center of the street and his friends fanned out on either side of him. All six of the Brotherhood members were decked out in combat gear and carrying military style M4 assault rifles.

  “Wizards,” the one in the center said, sounding a bit smug. “What a glorious day. We shall rid your flesh of the vile demon which has tainted it. We shall—”

  Thunder roared as Bert drew and fired. The bullet punched through the man’s forehead. With the speed of a well-practiced hand, he’d released Sharp, drew while thumbing the hammer, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. One swift motion, just like Uncle Tony had trained him to do. The sword floated in front of him, leaving one hand for his staff and the other for his gun.

  For just a moment, both sides were stunned. Bert fired again, shooting the next Brotherhood member in the chest and knocking him to the ground.

  Hell broke loose. The Brotherhood opened fire. Their automatic weapons were deafening, but fell harmlessly to the ground as they struck Jim’s shield.

  Beside Bert, Hunter opened fire with both guns, dropping a third member of the Brotherhood.

  “To the right!” Sharp screamed in his head. “Now!”

  Bert darted right as two of the ninja-garbed assassins charged from the alley, katanas raised. They were closing in on Kevin, and Bert didn’t have time to warn him. Instead, he smashed his weight against Kevin, knocking him to the ground as a sword swiped at his head. Using his momentum to spin, Bert swung his staff down at the man. He didn’t have time to parry, and instead grabbed at the staff. The strength of the swing was still enough to throw him off balance and he stumbled backward. The next man closed in, katana raised over his head. Bert shot him in the chest, spun, dropped his staff and called Sharp to his hand, and sliced the first attacker across the face. The burning blade slid through flesh like butter. The ninja went down screaming.

  Releasing Sharp to float once more, he pulled Kevin to his feet. More ninja wannabes were pouring out of the opposite alley. He raised his gun but didn’t have a clean shot through his friends, and there was no time to warn them. Then Neil spun in a blur and hurled a throwing knife into the eye of the closest attacker. Bert shot the next one in the throat. The high velocity of the .357 magnum carried the slug through tissue, bone, and out the other side, striking the next ninja right in the chin.

  Bert glanced at both alleyways. There didn’t appear to be any more assassins moving in. He turned his focus back to the chaos in the street. Hunter had dropped two more, and the last of their assailants shot at them from behind cover. Hunter had dropped his empty .357 and held the 1911 with both hands, trying to line up a shot.

  Bert threw a force spell at the dumpster, knocking into the man and causing him to stumble out in the open. Hunter fired, punching the man from his feet.

  As the last of their antagonists fell, an eerie silence fell over the street. Gunfire still erupted from around the Underbelly, but there, on that street, it was quiet.

  Chapter 27

  “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Neil said, forcing a smile as he bent down to retrieve his throwing knife from a dead man’s eyes socket. He wiped the mush on his jeans and returned the blade to its concealed sheath.

  Bert chuckled and glanced around to see the others smiling as well. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, or the fact they were alive, or maybe it was just Neil’s ability to break the tension with odd commentary.
/>   Gunshots sounded from somewhere close, and Bert said, “We’d better get out of the street.”

  “Hold up,” Hunter said, stepping past him. “I want their guns.” He knelt down by a Brotherhood trooper and scooped up the dead man’s M4, then rummaged through the rest of his gear.

  Bert followed suit while Jim and Neil covered the street and kept the group shielded. Kevin dropped down beside another dead man, and scooped up a pistol grip shotgun along with a lanyard full of shells. As he picked through the man’s gear he said, “Guys! Take a look at this!”

  Bert glanced up and saw Kevin holding up a grenade. “These could come in handy.”

  “This guy has one on him, too,” Hunter said. “Anyone ever used a grenade?”

  “No,” Kevin replied, still collecting gear. “But I’m sure we can figure it out. Just pull the pin and throw, right? Just like in the movies.”

  Bert wanted to argue with his logic, but couldn’t. Instead, he shrugged and said, “Whatever works.”

  By the time they were done, they’d collected several guns, a boat load of ammo, and a handful of grenades. As they were deciding how to spread the wealth, a man appeared from one of the alleyways. He was middle-aged and looked like he hadn’t bathed in months. And he had six eyes. A local.

  “Are you fighting them?” he asked, nervously keeping his distance.

  “Yeah,” Jim replied. “We’re fighting them.”

  “I’d like to help,” the man said, though he looked like he wanted to bolt. He swallowed and continued, “My family is on the other side of town. I need to get to them.”

  The guys glanced around at each other, and Bert asked, “You know how to use a gun?”

  “I’ve shot a few,” the man said, nodding. “I was in the military once.”

  Bert handed him an M4 along with a few spare clips, wondering what military the six-eyed man could’ve served in. Certainly not a human force. It didn’t matter. As long as the man could shoot straight he’d be an asset, and the assault rifles were all but useless in a mage’s hands anyway. “Just try not to shoot any of us, all right?”

  The man replied with a weak smile and a slight nod. It was good enough for Bert.

  “All right,” Bert said, heading toward an alleyway. “Let’s get off the street before we get ambushed.”

  “What are you thinking?” Neil asked, keeping pace alongside him.

  “I’m thinking we get back to the Saloon,” Bert replied, shrugging. “With their guns and numbers, it’s the closest thing we’ve got to a fortified position.”

  “It’s the right move,” Neil said. “But then what? We can’t mount an offense from inside the bar.”

  “I don’t know. I guess we’ll figure it when we get there.”

  Neil smiled. “Fair enough.”

  “Let me take point,” Hunter said, catching up. He motioned to the M4 in his hands. “I’ve got six full clips.”

  Bert nodded. “Stay beside me and I’ll try to keep you shielded. But beware, even being this close to us could cause your gun to jam.”

  “Whatever,” Hunter replied. “You just keep my ass covered with that magic shit.”

  They moved on through the alley toward the Saloon, picking up a mother and her child along the way. They looked for other stragglers, but didn’t find any. As they approached the back side of the Saloon, they could hear gunshots out front again.

  Jim pulled up beside Bert and said, “We want to try a frontal assault on these guys?”

  Bert shook his head. “Let’s see if there’s a back door. I’d feel better getting everyone inside.”

  They moved across the gap between buildings, ushering everyone along until they reached a back door. It was locked, but Bert gave it a light knock. The door opened and a man waved them inside. Once they were in, he locked it behind them again.

  It didn’t look like a Saloon anymore. The swinging doors that led through the front door were apparently just for business hours. A steel door now blocked the main entrance, with tables and chairs piled on top to bar entrance by force. From the end of the bar, the rest of the furniture had been piled to create a barricade. Brock’s people were spread along the line and armed. If anyone made it through the front door, they faced a firing line. The rest of the patrons were huddled behind the bar or barricade. It might not stop the penetration of a rifle round, but they wouldn’t be easy targets.

  Brock knelt down behind the barricade with her assault rifle. As Bert moved closer she said, “What in the fuck is going on out there?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood of the Magic Bane?”

  “I’ve heard of them. But I never knew if they were real.”

  “Well, they are,” he replied. “And they’re butchering everyone.”

  “Bastards,” was her only reply.

  “We need a way to push back.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  A middle-aged woman crept over to where Bert and Brock were tucked down behind the barrier. With a pleading look on her face she asked, “Are you going back out there? My kids are out there. With my husband...”

  As she spoke, others around the room started mentioning their loved ones, the volume increasing as they tried to talk over one another. Logically, he knew the chances of finding, much less saving, everyone’s families was null. But these people were desperate, and he couldn’t blame them. And the steady rhythm of gunfire continued outside. To go back out there was almost certain death. But that had never stopped him before.

  He rose to his feet and motioned with his hands to silence the crowd. “Listen, I’m going to go back out there and I’m going to find everyone I can, but I can’t do it alone.”

  At this, the crowd silenced and the unease grew.

  “Well, that was inspiring,” Sharp said. “Why don’t you just tell them everyone they love is dead?”

  He didn’t argue. Sharp was right. Taking a deep breath, he forced down his own doubts and continued. “Right now, this is the safest place in town. So, here’s the plan. A group of us is going to go on a rescue mission. We’ll find everyone we can and we’ll bring them back here. We’ll need to set up a triage area to deal with injuries. We also need to maintain security here. This is Brock’s bar, so she’ll decide how that goes.”

  He paused and took another breath. “This is where it gets tricky. It’s a war zone outside. There’s a real chance that when we walk out that door we won’t make it back. But this is your town, and those are your friends and family out there. So, I won’t ask you to join me, but I will take volunteers. If you don’t want to fight, I understand. I can’t blame you for being afraid. Hell, I’m terrified. But I won’t stay in here and hide while people are being hurt out there, and as I said before, I can’t do this alone. Who’s with me?”

  His gaze fell to Neil, who nodded in return. Each of his friends did. At least he’d have them. He didn’t know if his speech had been particularly inspiring, but as his eyes drifted around the room he saw more and more nods in his direction.

  They began passing out weapons, and in the end, he only took five extra people besides his friends. Any more and the saloon would be hard pressed to hold a defense with their limited resources. When that was settled, Bert headed toward the back door.

  Walking alongside him, Brock whispered, “And what do we do if you don’t come back?”

  Het met her gaze and shrugged. “Fight to the death.”

  She sighed. “Fair enough.”

  ***

  Back out on the street, Bert, Jim, and Hunter took the front, along with a couple of vampires who knew the town. The rest of their strike team filled up the middle with Kevin and Neil bringing up the rear. As long as everyone stayed in close, Jim could shield them.

  With the locals giving directions, they maneuvered through the alleyways, heading toward a large building which had once been a hotel. That was back in the 1800’s before it sank into the Underbelly. Now it was an apartment complex, and the locals said there were
a lot of people sharing the crammed space. A good place to start.

  As they drew closer, Bert saw the Brotherhood had the same idea. A group of twenty or so were attempting an assault on the building, but the dwellers within weren’t making it easy. They didn’t have guns, but they had the high ground and junk to throw. Each time the Brotherhood charged the door, they hurled debris out the windows, forcing them back.

  They might’ve noticed Bert and company sneaking up the alleyway behind them, but none of the troopers seemed interested in watching their flank. Arrogant bastards, Bert thought. They didn’t think anyone here could offer them a real challenge. Just a bunch of lambs for the slaughter. He intended to prove them wrong.

  He waved his group back and they retreated around a corner and out of site. Bert pulled them in close, and said, “All right, we don’t have much time. If they breach the door we’ll hard pressed to stop them inside. We’ve got to get the jump on them now. As soon as we step through the alley, open fire. If you’re not a wizard, make sure you’re standing beside a wizard. We’ll keep you shielded. All you have to do is shoot straight.”

  Everyone nodded their understanding and no one peed their pants. It was the best he could hope for given the circumstances. He continued, “I’ll take point and move to the right. Hunter, I want you right behind me with your assault rifle. Jim, you take the middle to shield as many of us as you can. Neil, you bring up the rear and cover from the left. Kevin, you still have one of those grenades? Pitch it right in the center of those soulless douche canoes. Everyone else, shoot until they’re less self-righteous. Good plan?”

  “Mostly,” Neil agreed. “But I’m not sure even death can wipe the smug off these guys.”

  “Let’s find out,” Bert said, stepping around the corner and drawing his gun. As he moved to the right, Kevin’s grenade flew overhead and landed right in the middle of the mass of Brotherhood goons. Several of them paused to look down at it.

  Time slowed and Bert wasted none of it. Taking aim, he fired at the enemy closest to him, drilling him in the back of the head. Beside him, Hunter opened fire with the automatic rifle, raining destruction on their foes. Then the grenade went boom. With a deafening roar, bits of Brotherhood exploded in every direction like confetti.