I took a drag on my cigarette and contemplated the ice melting in the amber liquor. The rough-cut cubes chinked against the perspiring glass as they settled. The abandoned bar was dark and smelled of old vomit, body odor and dust. The ruby butt of my cigarette glowed in the gloom. I had been content to sit on my stool, hunched over and brooding, an elbow resting on the dirt caked counter when trouble walked through the open doorway. He didn’t say anything, just stood there with the boiling afternoon sun at his back. He loomed in the doorway like a Reaper waiting to cash in on its next soul.
“I’m calling you out, Black Dog.”
I took a sip of my whiskey, snorting into the glass. My Reaper is a brat. His voice had cracked at the beginning of his declaration. I sighed. The Devil still hires young, I see. Even in these days of relative peace…I heard the creak of leather and the groan of the bug-eaten floorboards.
“You don’t want to do that, son.”
I heard him tense. In the crystal of my glass that I held up in front of my face, I saw him: a watery shadow. He raised his gun…aimed. Kids just can’t wait to die these days. His breath came hard and fast. He had never killed anyone before. The hammer cocked. I whirled. BANG! He had walked up behind me, close enough for me to grab his wrist and pull him off balance. I whipped my glass hard into his skull. It shattered and he dropped, blood started to sheet down his face. I stood over him; the sunlight crept in through the doorway. I threw my coat over my shoulder and stepped over the boy into the desert light. I stopped, sighed, squeezing my eyes shut. I heard Danny’s parting words in my head forbidding me to just leave. “Don’t leave a mess, Jack.”
“Damnit, Danny.”
*****
Blackness. A groan.
“Good, you’re awake.”
The brat lay tied to the bed, head wrapped like a mummy.
“Be glad I even had bandages…let alone clean ones.”
Fuzzy eyed and disoriented, my would-be killer looked around the room. He tried to get up, noticed the restraints and collapsed back to the bed with a groan. He pulled at the cuffs, testing them.
“Those aren’t comin’ off, kid.”
He gritted his teeth and tried to sit up again, but didn’t get very far. Sweat dotted his skin and his eyes listed to the side as his concussion got the better of him. He sunk back into the cushions.
“What’d you do t’me?”
“I gave you a concussion,” I said around a cigarette. I struck a match and held it to my cancer generator. The kid looked confused. I didn’t blame him. Having been in his shoes before, I could understand. I exhaled smoke.
“The only reason I even bothered to fix you up is because of that old woman. Be thankful brat, she saved your life.”
“What? What w— ” He looked sick.
“Don’t vomit on the sheets. I ain’t changin’ ‘em.”
He shut his eyes and breathed, attempting to settle his stomach. After a few minutes he said, “Why didn’t you kill me?”
I studied him a moment. I knocked ash off into a trey on a dresser by the wall I was leaning against. The boy opened his eyes, gazing blearily at the cracked yellow ceiling.
“You murdered my father,” he said quietly.
I folded my arms, cigarette in hand and looked down at the floor. I sniffed, looking up and away from him.
“Yeah… Sorry about that.”
“You’re sorry,” his words, rough as rust, cut across the small hotel room.
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
He was silent a moment.
“Why?” he whispered the question, his voice young and raw. I didn’t have to see the tears to know that they were there. I lowered my eyes, recounting the disaster of last year’s shoot out. There wasn’t much point in telling the kid what happened that day. The drugs I had given him for the pain would blot out most of our conversation anyway. Even so, I felt he should know. He deserved that much for coming so far. He couldn’t be more than 15, but he had tracked me clear into the Outlands. That took no small amount of skill.
“Your father was just doin’ his job. No one was supposed to die that day, but…I had to make a choice. I chose wrong.”
The kid didn’t say anything. I looked up. He was asleep. I snorted.
“Figures.”
Watching the boy made me feel ancient. Had I ever been that young? Yeah, I suppose I had. Back then I had been full of anger, vengeance and resentment. I had had a need to run through life like it was a race. I rode, fought, gambled, argued and drank harder than anyone else. I was reckless; a “tornado personified,” Danny had always said. I smiled at the memories. Those had been the days.
I looked outside at the deep blackness of the freezing subzero night. The weather-controlled bubble of the Capitol was sorely missed here in the asshole of the world. And the kid had followed me out here. Idiot. He was city down to his ridiculous shoes. He didn’t belong out here. Even so I didn’t see him heading back to civilization willingly, but I couldn’t very well have him putting his damn fool life in jeopardy for a vendetta. I sighed and looked at the bed.
“I’m being punished, aren’t I?” I said to the sleeping boy. He snored softly. I put out the light.
*****
I woke up to dull and muddled agony. Dear Gods, my head. I groaned and opened my eyes. The dingy, rundown hotel room creaked and moaned. Pale light pooled in from the window kitty-corner from the bed I was laying on, lighting up the old wood floor. I was alone. I vaguely remembered talking to Black Dog, the man who had murdered my father in cold blood, but I couldn’t recall much of what had been said. My eyes fell on the small table next to the bed. A key lay on top of it. I reached for it but was halted by the restraints. I stared at them and then at the key.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Two hours later I was panting and upside down. The key was had fallen off onto the floor. I had taken my shoe off in an attempt to grab it with my toes, but to no avail. Now I was mostly upside down reaching for it with my tongue and teeth. Almost………! I grunted a sound of joy. Wriggling back up into an upright position, I dropped the card into my lap and wriggled it over to my wrist. I turned the cuff, rubbing the metal up against the key. Boop. The cuff popped open.
“Yes!”
Using my freed hand I swiped the card over the scanner. Another quiet boop. I practically jumped off the bed. Leaning dramatically over to the left, my head injury toppled me over. I lay there a second, surprised and annoyed. Every second I wasted here was a second that murderer was getting away. I crawled to my effects that were heaped at the foot of the bed.
I burst out of the hotel door and jerked to a halt. The outlaw stood a ways off, gun drawn and aimed at my chest. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. I swallowed and leaned back instinctively. The white light of the sun was at the older man’s back, casting him in a hazy shadow.
“I thought I’d save you the trouble of findin’ me again,” he said, his voice calm and rough as old tree bark.
“Took you long enough, though. At the rate you were goin’ I thought you were never gonna figure it out.”
“I suppose it means I would not make a good thief,” I said, eyes locked on the matte black gun.
“S’pose not.” He cocked the hammer.
“What now,” I asked. “You going to kill me?”
He huffed and grumbled, dropping the aim of the gun.
“What the hell is with you and wantin’ to die so damn bad? I told you: It was a mis–take. And how do you know it was me that killed your pops, anyway?! I’m retired, damn you! Go hound some other poor bastard, I’m too damn old for this shit.”
I frowned.
“I was there. I saw you kill him.”
He holstered his gun and set his hands on his hips, posture stooped. He paced as he spoke.
“So what. He was by far not the first and none of those children or wives have come after me, before!”
I glared.
“What kind of excuse is that?! He was my father! As a Sheriff’s son, I have to uphold his honor and memory by bringing his killer to justice. Or die trying!”
“Boren Almighty, boy!”
He drew his gun faster than I could blink.
“Don’t bloody try it! Let me see your hands. Your hands!”
I withdrew my hand from the handle of my gun at my hip and held them up, palms facing him. My head pulsed and I felt sick. The cold wind ripped through my worn clothes, stealing any warmth. I shivered. The outlaw was silent for a few minutes staring at me. I could feel the intensity of his gaze.
“On Freedom’s Day last year,” he started to say, the anger gone from his voice. “No one was supposed to die.”
The aim of the gun dipped slightly.
“You weren’t the only one who lost people that day. It was supposed to be our last job.”
He stopped.
“Your father wasn’t supposed to be there. Jason lost his head because of the piece you Pops was wearin’. If he hadn’t seen it— Look, I know he was retirin’ that day. I heard him talkin’ to the dame at the counter. He was sayin’ how it was his last day and he was glad he would be able to spend more time with his family.”
Pain lanced through my chest. I hadn’t known it was his last day.
“He hadn’t seen us until Jason walked into the room. He’d been in the back locking up the guy we had just brought in. Jason had a price on his own head so he was antsy. I had tried to tell him, but…he saw your Pops and just fired. I don’t think he even knew he was a Sheriff.”
I felt heavy. Tears pooled in my eyes. I had heard the gun shot and had run to the marshal’s office where I had seen a blond man drop to the floor, Dad had shot him.
“My partner wasn’t much of a shot, but I didn’t even think when your Pops killed him, I just fired.”
I took a pained breath, arms still held weakly in the air. Two more men had entered the building and Black Dog had killed them both before running out of the building. I had remembered him screaming as the blond man fell to the floor.
“It was a mistake. One that I’m payin’ for, but I know that ain’t enough for you. I know what vengeance feels like, kid, and it never ends well.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks and the world blurred.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I was hopin’ to inform your decision, as Danny would say. You should know the full story of what happened to your Pops before makin’ a choice. I would really, really like to not have to kill you, kid.”
I lowered my hands. My legs were giving out on me, my head pounded and I couldn’t see straight.
“What choice do I have?”
“You’re young, kid, you have all the choice in the world.”
I shook my head.
“No I don’t.”
I reached for my gun.
“Don’t.”
I pulled it out and aimed it at the blurry, wavering shadow.
“I made a promise.”
“Kid—“
I cocked the hammer. The crack of the gun rang out across the open desert. I dropped to the dirt, pain ripped through my leg. I heard jogging footsteps coming towards me. I moaned in agony. The freezing cold of the wind dug its icy claws into my bones. Blood flowed over the pale orange dirt. Shadow abruptly engulfed my world. I opened my eyes as the outlaw dropped to a knee beside me. He turned me onto my back, warm hands gently pressing against my shoulder and side. Quickly shrugging out of his coat, he threw it over me, instantly cutting off the cold. I heard the ripping of fabric.
“Easy, kid, you’ll be fine.”
A heavy weight pressed into the pain in my leg. I bit down on a scream.
“I know, I know. Easy.”
His gentle, sympathetic words followed me into the dark.
*****
I picked the brat up and carried him back inside the hotel. Laying him on the bed, I dug out the emergency kit I had hid under it. I had enough cloth left to make a decent bandage, but I was really looking for a tool to dig the bullet out with. I had missed the major artery, thank Boren, but he was still losing a lot of blood.
I took out my knife and par of metal tweezers from the kit.
“At least you had the sense to be unconscious for this part.”
*****
I was dozing in a chair when he finally stirred. I tipped up my hat and sat straighter. The boy moaned. I stood up and walked over to the side of the bed.
“How you feelin’?”
His blue eyes fluttered open. It took him a minute to focus on my face. He took a breath and looked at his wrist.
“I figured you couldn’t do much in this condition, so I didn’t bother with them.”
He looked back to my face, his brow furrowed.
“That was the second time I tried to kill you,” he murmured.
I grunted, “I’m glad you’ve retained your ability to count.”
“No, it’s…you haven’t killed me.”
I rolled my eyes and removed my hat.
“Good Lord, kid. Your fixation with death is startin’ to sound unhealthy.”
“Any other man in your position would have done me in. Why haven’t you?”
I sighed and leaned my hands on the mattress.
“I don’t kill children. Even if they have a death wish.”
The kid didn’t say anything for a moment.
“I’m not a kid…I just look it.”
I frowned at him.
“Whatever. I’m not goin’ t’ kill you, so drop it already.”
He was silent. After a while, I pulled up a chair and contemplated him from it.
“What’s your name?”
He licked his lips.
“Roderick .”
I nodded.
“Good name.”
Silence.
“Is your name really Black Dog?”
I smiled.
“No. Danny gave me that name.”
He waited.
“It’s Jack. Jack Avery Leyland.”
Roderick smiled weakly, eyes drooping with fatigue.
“Not a very good name for an outlaw.”
I stood and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah. You need to get some rest. You can try to kill me again later if you like.”
The boy smiled again and drifted off.
© 2014 Morgan Krepky. All Rights Reserved.
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