Pilate's Blood

by J Alexander Greenwood

  “Laugh all you want,” Nemec said. “It’s real. If it weren’t, do you think we’d be in this kind of trouble?”

  Ryder shook his head, poking up his hat, revealing a glint of humor in his steely eyes. “Nope. I just never took Derek Krall seriously. I guess I learned my lesson though. He was an evil little shit but a smart evil little shit.”

  The phone rang.

  Riley froze, staring at it. “Do I answer?”

  “No. Let me,” Ryder said, hurrying to the overturned desk. He cracked his knuckles and picked up the old black receiver. “Welcome to Jack Burger. Jack speaking.”

  “Pilate?” said the man from before.

  “No, Tom, this is Ryder.”

  “Oh.” The man sounded startled, though Ryder couldn’t discern if it was because he had answered or because he had called Tom by name.

  “Tom?”

  “Um…that’s not my name.”

  “Tom.” Ryder rolled his eyes.

  A pause ensued, but it didn’t linger long.

  “One more time. Tom?”

  “For the sake of hurrying the fuck up, you can call me ‘Tom’.”

  “Thanks. Better than ‘Dick’ or ‘Harry’…or ‘Hairy Dick,’” Ryder mocked, nodding at Pilate, who had crawled up behind him. “Now look, Tom, you boys need to pack it in before those short-tempered State Patrol boys and every deputy in a fifty-mile radius show up and crawl right up your fat ass.”

  Tom laughed, albeit nervously. “Nice try, Commissioner, but there ain’t any deputies or troopers coming to your aid anytime soon. They’re all quite busy with more important matters.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ryder drawled. “Your equally half-witted compadres have been busy starting fires all over the county.”

  Pilate eyed Ryder.

  “That guy is the real deal, I must say,” Simon said, to which Pilate mentally agreed.

  “Commissioner, just give us Nemec, and we’ll call it a draw. What do you say?”

  “Tom,” Ryder said, raising his voice an octave so the petrified banker could hear, “you know I’d generally be happy to hand that jackass Nemec over to you—”

  “Hey!” Nemec called out.

  “But that would probably sign our death warrants, as well as his. You and I both know we’ll all be dead two seconds after we shove his big butt out the door, and you’ll kill Parker as soon as you get what the kids call the four-one-one outta him. So, no, I don’t think we’ll take what’s behind Door Number One, Monty.”

  “Huh?”

  “Damn it, Tom. Try to keep up, would ya? I know you’re not a college grad, but—”

  “Shut up! You got ten minutes to send him out, or we’ll come in there and get him. He and I have some things to discuss.”

  “Did you just tell me to shut up?” Ryder said, the timbre of his voice that of the proverbial doornail.

  “I, uh…well, you know,” Tom stammered. “You know who you’re dealing with, and he don’t like that kinda talk.”

  “He don’t like? Pssh. Let’s get this straight, buddy boy. There are a whole lotta damn things I don’t like around here. For starters, I don’t like your boss’s men sittin’ on the road like vultures, bottling up this town, blowing up airplanes, and starting shit far away to draw off our allies. I don’t like your men watching us, trying to catch us with our backs turned, and I don’t like your boss, Hilmer Thurman, because he set all this bullshit up. Furthermore, for the record, I’m not much fond of you.”

  “Ten minutes,” Tom said, then hung up.

  “Well, that was refreshingly predictable,” Ryder said, handing the receiver to Riley.

  “What did he say?”

  “They’re coming to crash our party in ten minutes if we don’t send Parker out there with a rose in his teeth.”

  “Great.”

  “Yeah, well, we can file that one under ‘ain’t happening,’ Constable.”

  “Then what do we do?” Riley said.

  “We get ready to reenact Custer’s last stand, Nebraska.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “We don’t have a lot of choices here,” Pilate said to the men gathered around the cell; Riley was still up front, but he could hear. “We can give up and die, or we can fight it out and probably die.”

  “Gimme a gun,” Nemec said. “Let me help. I deserve a chance to fight for my own life.”

  Pilate looked at Ryder.

  The commissioner looked impassive a moment, then nodded.

  “Taters, let him out,” Pilate said. “Even with one good arm, he’s still another gun in the fight.”

  Nemec walked out of the cell and accepted the newly acquired .38 from Ryder. “Thank you.”

  “That gun gets pointed at anybody but a bad guy, and I’ll make a personal deposit of two shells in your damn balls,” Taters said.

  “I like this guy,” Ryder said, jerking a thumb at Taters.

  “So what’s the plan?” Nemec said, ignoring the threat.

  “We divide up and position ourselves in front and back here. They’ll do what they’re doing out in the county, attack on multiple fronts at once.”

  “Shit,” Pilate said.

  “Taters, you and Nemec guard the back door. It’s reinforced steel, but they could still break it down or punch holes in it with explosives.”

  “Charming,” Taters said.

  “Get behind the cell bunk for cover,” Ryder instructed. “Pilate, you and the kid take the front door. Stay behind Ollie’s old desk. That heavy-duty relic will stop a lot of their fire.”

  “What about you, Mr. Commissioner?” Riley asked nervously.

  “I don’t like to sit still. I’ll be a floater.”

  “Okay,” Pilate said.

  “Here’s the standing order, men,” Ryder said, raising his index finger. “We got one rule. Don’t shoot till they break down a door. There’s no return-on-investment in shooting holes in our own doors and windows. You understand that, don’t ya, Mr. Banker?”

  Nemec nodded.

  “So…don’t shoot until we see the whites of their eyes?” Taters murmured, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Exactly,” Ryder said.

  “You okay, Taters?” Pilate asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said, a tone of finality in his voice. “Don’t wet nurse me, John. Next thing I know, you’ll be walkin’ around here in a tight white mini-dress with a red cross on it, and none of us wanna see that.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I just wish I had a damn Modelo or two.”

  “Easy there, borrachón,” Pilate said, smiling.

  Taters nodded and managed a brief smile, then again mopped his brow with his sleeve.

  “Gents, we have weapons, defensible positions, and ammo to survive this,” Ryder said, glancing at his watch. “It’s eleven forty p.m. We gotta run out the clock till we get some help or sunrise breaks. I’m confident we can do this,” he said, with all the fervor of a football coach before the last quarter of a tie game.

  “What’s so special about sunrise?” Nemec asked.

  “Darkness obscures a multitude of sins, and there’s no damn way they’ll let themselves be visually identified. They’ll pack it in as soon as their guys on the edge of town walkie-talkie over to tell ‘em the state cops and deputies are coming. Barring that, we’ve got the sunrise on our side.”

  “You don’t think they’ll engage the troopers?”

  “Doubt it,” Ryder said, slipping a stick of Wrigley’s spearmint between his thin lips. “Though they’ve already engaged a town constable and county commissioner, so who knows? All bets may be off, though this is already starting to look reckless, something Hilmer usually doesn’t do.”

  “First time for everything,” Pilate said. “He’s not infallible.”

  Ryder winked at Pilate. “Look, fellas, there’s one more thing. They may also decide that their whole mission is fucked, and they might go kamikaze on us, willing to cut their losses.”

  “Meanin
g?” Pilate said.

  “They firebomb our little Alamo and roast us all alive.”

  “Damn. I love this man’s optimism,” Simon quipped.

  “I never told Abbey I love her,” Riley said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Pilate sat with him, shoulder to shoulder, their backs against the overturned desk. “Me neither,” Pilate said.

  Riley’s head jerked upward at Pilate, who broke into a broad grin. “She had such a crush on you,” he said, smiling back.

  “Yeah, well, I’m flattered. She’s a great gal.”

  “Did you like, uh…you know, like her back? I mean, before things got serious with Miss Nathaniel, did you crush on her?” His eyes were wide, plaintive.

  “No, Riley. I care about her very much, but I never crushed on Abbey,” Pilate said. “Now, that’s not to say I don’t find her extremely attractive. Any man would. She’s got a lot going for her, as you well know.”

  “Yeah, but you said it’s still okay for me to move on,” Riley said.

  “Not in so many words,” Pilate said. “I only meant you should move on if you don’t really love her. That’s only fair to both of you.”

  He nodded. “I think I love her. I mean, I wanna be with her.”

  “Then let’s get out of this shit storm alive so you can march right up to that hospital and tell her.”

  “I’m gonna go home first,” he said.

  “What for? A shower?”

  “No. I want to get my grandma’s ring.”

  Pilate nodded. “Sweet. Good man.”

  “Psst, John,” Ryder said, peering out a hole in the wooden shutters on the front of the office.

  “What?” Pilate whispered.

  “I see ‘em. They’re staging up across the street, in front of Mostek’s store. Looks like at least seven or eight guys.”

  “Thurman?”

  He shook his head. “No, but the Hitchockian profile and trucker cap are dead giveaways for Tom.”

  “What are they doing?” Riley said.

  “Hmm,” Ryder said. “Looks like they’re lining up behind a couple trucks, rifles at the ready.”

  “So…a firing line?” Pilate inquired.

  “I s’pose,” Ryder said, drawing his Colt. “Oh my, how predictable.”

  “What?”

  A barrage of gunfire slammed into the door of the jail, sending splinters and debris flying into the desk.

  Ryder yelled something unintelligible at the men, then poked the Colt through the hole and fired twice.

  “What the hell?” Nemec called from the back.

  “Shut up, Park—” Pilate started.

  Ryder barked over his shoulder, “That fella tried to deliver a cocktail, but he’s sleeping now.”

  A commotion of voices filtered, and a sudden flash of light illuminated through the walls.

  “What?” Pilate said.

  Ryder gestured for him to come up.

  Pilate crawled up to Ryder and peered outside. A man lay in the middle of the street, motionless and on fire. “Oh my God,” Pilate said.

  “That was Otis, I’m pretty sure.” Ryder clicked his tongue. “Shoulda stuck to playin’ lumberjack. I’m just sorry it took two shots to start the fire.”

  A loud sound from the back of the jail startled them.

  “What the hell?” Pilate said.

  “Looks like we’ve got company at the back door,” Ryder guessed. “C’mon.” Instead of crawling, Ryder ran, upright. “Kid, keep an eye on the front.”

  Pilate quickly followed the surprisingly agile commissioner.

  Nemec shouted and fired two shots into the steel door.

  Ryder smacked him on the head. “Stop shootin’, damn it! There was one rule!”

  The smell of gasoline and smoke crept into the jail.

  “Shit. They dropped one of those in the alley,” Pilate said. “What do we do?”

  “Nothing at the moment,” Ryder said. “The alley’s closed off. Not much wind back there, so it may burn itself out—”

  Ryder was interrupted by a loud moan from Taters.

  “Taters?” Pilate said, rushing to catch his friend as he crumpled, dropping his weapon and clutching his chest.

  Pilate and Nemec carried the wilted fisherman behind the bunk and placed a well-worn pillow under his head.

  “Taters? You with us?”

  His eyes fluttered, and his hand flexed on his chest. “Yeah,” he gasped out. “Felt like somebody punched me in the chest just now.”

  “Have you felt that before?” Nemec said.

  “Taters,” Pilate said, “is it like before?”

  He nodded, quicker this time, and gestured at his shirt pocket.

  Pilate put his hand in the shirt pocket. “Nitroglycerin pills? How many?”

  Taters extended his index finger.

  Pilate placed a pill under Taters’s tongue.

  Taters’s face started to relax almost instantly.

  “Take it easy, pal,” Pilate said, coughing from the haze of black smoke infiltrating the room.

  Taters’s eyes fluttered again. “I’m okay, John. Prop me up and let me—”

  “No, Taters. We’ll take it from here. You just take it easy and rest up for a minute. That’s a direct order, Deputy.”

  “Gee. All that power’s gone to your head,” he snarked weakly.

  Pilate nodded, smiling.

  Ryder leaned into the cell. “How’s he doing?”

  “Better,” Pilate said.

  Nemec coughed. “Yeah, but we’re all gonna asphyxiate in here. Game over, man. Game over.”

  “Just stay frosty,” Pilate said.

  “Movie quotes? At a time like this? Frankly, John, they don’t give a damn,” Simon said.

  “Nemec, take the bed sheets and soak ‘em in the toilet, then put ‘em by against the door. Maybe we can take the smoke down a notch.”

  Nemec obeyed and went to his task.

  “Mr. Pilate!” Riley yelled. “John?”

  “Great. Taters?” He searched his friend’s face for assent to move.

  “Go on,” Taters mouthed.

  Ryder and Pilate moved to the desk up front and found Riley was at the window. “What?” Pilate said.

  “They’re lining up again,” the kid said. “That guy is still a human candle, but they’re just ignoring him and lining up to fire again.”

  “Looks like they have a few AR-15s,” Ryder said to Pilate.

  “God, please tell me that’s not another word for a grenade launcher.”

  Ryder shook his head. “Ever heard of M-16s?”

  “Yeah. Like in Vietnam, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” Ryder said. “Well, they have the civvie version, and a couple shotguns. All it’s gonna take is a concentrated period of firing on us before the whole place falls down around us.”

  “What are our options?”

  “I’d say we don’t have any good ones,” Ryder said, double-checking his Colt. “We just sit here and take it unless they try to get in. Won’t do no good shooting back, I’d say.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah, it sure does.”

  “Riley, get back here,” Pilate said.

  “Let me shoot, just once,” he said.

  “What?”

  “If we aren’t gonna make it, I want a shot at them before I die,” he said.

  Pilate looked at Ryder.

  Ryder shrugged. “Kid’s right. Maybe we should just start firing back. What the hell?”

  “It beats lying down, and I don’t hear any sirens coming to the rescue.”

  “It’s midnight, kinda like a dark High Noon.” Ryder smirked.

  Pilate nodded.

  “Go tell Nemec and Taters we’re gonna stir some shit up,” Ryder said. “I’ll count to ten before I start, so hurry back.”

  Pilate ran back to Taters and Nemec.

  The smoke had cut down considerably after Nemec put the wet sheets by the door. Taters was sitting up and almost looked n
ormal.

  “You okay, buddy?”

  “Much better. Just a little vagina.”

  “Vagina? Don’t you mean angina?”

  “I prefer the former to the latter. Whatever,” Taters said. “What’s the plan?”

  “We’re outgunned, pal. We aren’t gonna make it.”

  “Well, shit. Jordan’s gonna be pissed at you for getting me killed.”

  “Is that the Taters Malley theory on that?”

  The men chuckled.

  “We plan to go out in a blaze of glory. You in?”

  “Hell yeah! Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Taters said. “Help me up and gimme my gun. If I’m gonna die in this two-bit town, rather than under a surgeon’s saw, I’m damn well taking some of those pricks with me.”

  “Parker, we’re going up front. Stay back here and shoot anything that moves.”

  Nemec looked at Pilate, incredulous. “With four bullets?”

  “You shouldn’t have wasted those two before.”

  “You’re an asshole,” Nemec said.

  “Shut the hell up,” Taters said, “and get behind this mattress.”

  Taters and Pilate edged to the front, where Ryder had positioned himself to the right of the shuttered front window.

  Riley was behind the desk, his rifle resting on the edge and pointing at the door.

  “Go get Parker,” Ryder said from beneath the brim of his hat.

  “Why?” Pilate asked.

  “Just get him.”

  Riley shrugged and went to fetch the banker.

  “Okay, fellas, now here’s how’s it’s gonna go down,” Ryder said. “We’re gonna take the offensive advantage. I’m gonna run out the door. I’ve got Mabel and her little brother, Walter.” He produced a small pistol from his boot; the weapon resembled the Walther PPK Sean Connery brandished as James Bond. “I’m gonna let them make their displeasure known, and you guys are gonna run out behind me. Parker, you still have your key to the bank?”

  “Yeah,” he said, confused.

  “We’ll cover you while you unlock the door. Y’all scramble in there and lock yourselves in the vault.”

  “That’s crazy, man,” Pilate said. “You’ll be killed.”

  Ryder looked pained. “I have no intention of dying today, Constable. I think if we surprise ‘em, throw some lead on the fly, it’ll throw them off their game. They’ll have a tough time seeing us in the dark, and we might just pull it off.”