Gun Mage 2: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth

by Logan Jacobs

  Vance, however, turned his back on the store and turned to face the giant glass sphere that sat atop a black cube just outside the store. Sorcha had concluded that it was some sort of sculpture, though neither of us could decide what it was supposed to be.

  “I find that the sphere helps me focus,” Vance explained when he caught our stares. “I like to imagine it back in the day, when it was a fountain.”

  “It was a fountain?” I asked in a puzzled tone.

  “It was indeed,” Vance assured me. “I tried to convince Darwin to get it working again, but alas, he was even more reluctant to deal with this than he was with the escalators.”

  Vance closed his eyes then and went completely still. I looked at Sorcha, who shrugged and turned her gaze back on the portal mage. After a moment, he started the weaving hand motions that I now recognized as the means for creating a portal. A flickering ring appeared, though not as bright as the others I had seen recently.

  A few images started to appear, including the high school that the mutants now occupied, and a street that had to be in the city. Sorcha frowned as if she wasn’t so certain that Vance could deliver on his claim, and I started to suggest that we sneak away and pedal to the other wall instead. There had to be some way to climb over it or go around it, and maybe we would get lucky and survive the other perils of the wastelands.

  Before I could say much more than her name, a loud bang filled the atrium and shards of glass splintered from the sphere. I knew the sound immediately, as did Sorcha, and we ducked beneath a nearby escalator. I scanned the area as I drew the snub nose from my pocket and tried to find the source of the bullet.

  “You’re not the only one who can find a gun!” Peter’s voice called out from the upper walkway.

  “What the hell?” Vance demanded as he looked at the damaged sphere. Either the word gun hadn’t registered in his brain yet, or he didn’t understand how they worked.

  “Vance, get down!” I yelled at him.

  The portal was still there, though it had dimmed even more as Vance scowled at the fountain. Another crack sounded, and this time the sphere started to disintegrate. Vance howled, and over that, I could hear Peter’s laughter.

  “You little bastard!” Vance yelled toward the upper level.

  I darted from our hiding spot and grabbed Vance by his arm. I started to pull him back toward the escalator while he hurled epithets at our unseen attacker. There was another snap, but this time the bullet pinged off the edge of the escalator. The brat was getting better with his aim, and I still wasn’t sure where he was firing from.

  “Vance, are you okay?” Sorcha asked as we huddled next to her.

  I glanced at the portal mage and realized he was bleeding. There was a wet spot spreading across his chest, and Vance dabbed at it with his fingers.

  “Glass from the fountain,” Vance said mournfully. “Well, I’m not sure if that’s appropriate or ironic.”

  “I’ll kill you all!” Peter yelled out.

  “We need to get through the portal,” Vance mumbled. “And I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it open.”

  “How long before you could open another one?” I asked.

  “Well, if the mutants don’t kill us?” Vance mused. “Not sure. I think this flesh wound may be worse than I thought.”

  “If you can focus on Motown, we’ll get you through the portal,” Sorcha offered. “We can take care of you there.”

  “Could it be redemption at last?” Vance chuckled, then coughed.

  Another shot rang out and a puff of dust leapt into the air near us as the bullet dug into the tile floor. All three of us jumped even though we were crouched below the lowest point of the moving steps, and I nearly banged my head against the concrete above me.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Peter taunted.

  “Right,” Vance snorted.

  The portal mage steadied himself on his heels, then peered around the edge of the escalator to focus on the fading ring. It steadied, then slowly brightened, and the images began to flicker past more quickly. At last, the image froze and we could see a good-sized town just on the other side. Vance grinned and pumped his fist up in the air.

  “Motown!” he declared.

  “Don’t let them get through!” I heard Peter yell and I knew then that he had brought more friends along.

  That was confirmed when a mutant with long orange hair and gangly limbs vaulted over the edge of the escalator and landed a few feet away from us. I didn’t have time to notice any other details as I pointed the snub nose and pulled the trigger before the hairy orange mutant could move closer.

  The snub nose boomed in the confined space, even louder than the weapon Peter had. The blue-orange flames seemed to fill the space between me and the mutant, and then the flame vanished, the smoke wafted away, and the mutant crumpled to the tile floor. Half his neck was gone, along with most of his jaw. The orange hair turned red as blood spilled down and puddled on the floor, though his eyes still flickered in their sockets.

  “Run!” I yelled at Sorcha and Vance.

  Sorcha sprinted toward the portal, and I followed close behind with Vance locked in my grip. He stumbled along for a moment, then shook himself free. Another shot rang out, but I’d spotted the telltale spark this time.

  I pointed the snubnose in the direction of the other gun and pulled the trigger. The awesome kick of the weapon bucked against me, but I managed to keep it pointed toward the target even as Vance yelped in pain. The snub nose belched fire one more time, and then the bullet was on its way.

  I grabbed Vance again and started to drag him toward the portal. Sorcha was on the edge, ready to leap through, but as I reached her, three more mutants dropped from the upper level.

  I pointed the small revolver at the nearest mutant, but Vance suddenly wriggled free. He shoved Sorcha and me through the portal, and we suddenly found ourselves standing near a small corral. The air smelled of hay and horses, and a whinny drifted from the open door of a barn.

  I turned around, ready to reach through and grab Vance. He was still in the mall, and the three mutants had him surrounded. He smiled, then the portal started to collapse.

  “Vance!” I called out.

  But it wasn’t Vance who responded. Two of the mutants managed to leap through the portal before it vanished, and they dropped to the ground at my feet. They seemed stunned by their sudden arrival in the middle of this very ordinary scene, but then they saw me and Sorcha. With a hiss, a man with an owl’s face and a pair of wings threw himself into the air while a woman with scales and bulbous eyes threw herself at Sorcha.

  So much for a quiet arrival.

  Chapter 9

  The portal may not have drawn any attention, but two mutants certainly would. Part of me had hoped that the mutants would be so happy to be free of the wastelands that they would take off without a backward glance. But whatever poison Peter had told them about us was strong enough to overcome the sudden sense of freedom. Instead, they both attacked us, even though they were far from their haven and had no way back.

  I fired at the scaly woman first before she could reach Sorcha. The explosion from the snub nose echoed over the pasture and sent a flock of quail into the air. Before the rumble had even died away, the woman fell forward onto her face while a rosette of blood spread across her back.

  I saw the owl’s shadow out of the corner of my eye, but before I could turn to meet him, I saw Sorcha raise her hand.

  “Stop!” she yelled in a deep and commanding voice.

  The owl froze in mid-flight and hovered just above me while he looked at Sorcha like he was waiting for his next instruction. Sorcha kept her hand up, and returned his stare evenly, but she motioned toward me with the other hand.

  “Whenever you want to shoot,” she remarked. “I’ll release him as soon as you pull the trigger so I don’t have to feel it.”

  I swiveled toward the owl and fired the snub nose while he was still locked in place. I saw S
orcha’s arm drop at the same moment, and the owl had just enough time to shake his head before the bullet pierced his skin. The man’s chest seemed to explode at the same time the gun boomed. The blue flame melded for a moment with the bright red spray of blood, and then the owl man tumbled from the sky near my feet. There was a gaping hole in his back where the bullet had torn through his body, and one wing was scorched and bloody where the bullet had finished its path.

  I loved this revolver.

  Even as I took in the sight of the bloody birdman, I heard the warning that signalled the last bullet in the gun. I had to admit, as much as I liked the power and noise of the snub nose, there were moments when I really wished it carried more bullets.

  “We’re close enough to the town that someone will come out to investigate,” Sorcha pointed out when the sound of the snub nose finally died away.

  “Everyone will be coming this way,” I agreed as I tucked the snub nose into a pocket. “We should slip around and enter the town from a different direction.”

  A dog started to bark nearby, and Sorcha and I glanced at each other. Townspeople wouldn’t be far behind, and even though the mutants were dead, it wouldn’t be good to be found with their bodies, especially if someone realized how they had died.

  We ducked into a wheatfield that led away from the barn and followed it to the bottom of a hill. A barbed wire fence stretched along the edge of a well-traveled road, and I lifted Sorcha over first, then carefully climbed over. It was easy to spot Motown, where a pair of old church spires still rose over the surrounding fields. Rather than head straight toward it on the road we were on, we cut across another series of fields until we found a smaller road that would bring us into the town on a less direct route.

  By the time we entered Motown, the immediate excitement had already died down and local law enforcement had ridden out toward the scene of the unexplained explosions. It was easy to pick out the gossips, who lined the sidewalks and glanced toward the direction of the mystery sounds while they chatted quietly.

  “We need to ask someone where Charles Darwin lives,” Sorcha pointed out as we stopped in front of a general store and watched the street for a moment.

  “This seems as good a place as any,” I replied. “The store owner will know everyone in town, and maybe we can find out what they’re saying about the noise.”

  “I might be able to help with that,” Sorhca mused as she watched the women who hovered near the road. “I can plant the idea that a black mage had something to do with it.”

  I nodded, then held open the door for the general store. Sorcha smiled, slipped inside ahead of me, and then promptly started to wander among the aisles of the store.

  While Sorcha investigated the canned goods and a display of locally made candy, I moseyed on over to the clerk and smiled. The man behind the counter gave me a cautious smile in return as he took in my travel-stained clothing.

  “We’re looking for a man who lives around here,” I said as I stopped in front of the register.

  “And who would that be?” the clerk asked. He was a middle aged man, with thinning brown hair and dull brown eyes. He wasn’t fat exactly, but he was carrying a few extra pounds beneath the plain white cotton shirt and brown pants that he wore.

  “Charles Darwin,” I replied casually as I studied the glass jars filled with hard candies that sat next to the register.

  “Darwin?” the clerk said in surprise.

  “A friend of Mr. Darwin’s in the city asked us to drop off a package since we were coming this way,” I explained. “He said Mr. Darwin had been waiting for it.”

  “Oh,” the clerk replied. “Well, Charles doesn’t get many visitors. He tends to keep to himself, and everyone’s happier that way.”

  “We’re not staying,” I assured the man. “Just make the delivery and move on. Those were the instructions.”

  “Well, he owns property near Baxter’s pond,” the clerk chuckled. “If you can find him.”

  “And how do we get to Baxter’s pond?” I asked.

  “Follow Main Street here past the police station,” the clerk explained. “That’s the old church building with the red sign out front. About half-a-mile past that you’ll see Lewiston Road. Follow Lewiston past the last house until you come to a fork in the road. The pond is to the left, and Charles’s property is to the right. You can’t miss it. It’s the only house on the road.”

  “Sounds easy,” I replied. “Maybe we could drop off the package and then come back to town for a good meal.”

  “Sadie Bright at the Coachman Inn has the best food in town,” the clerk said with a smile. “I’d eat there every day if I could.”

  “Sounds like the perfect place, then,” I agreed.

  Sorcha joined us then with a few more firesticks and a large box of the local candy. She smiled sweetly at the clerk as she set them down, then nodded toward the street.

  “Did something happen this morning?” she asked as the clerk started to ring up her purchases.

  “There was a weird thunderclap this morning,” the clerk replied. “Two, actually. Everyone heard it, but no one knew what it was. The Chief and a couple of his officers rode out toward the Bennett place to take a look.”

  “Maybe it was a black mage,” Sorcha suggested as her voice dropped into a deeper, more soothing tone. I knew immediately that she was using her magic, but the clerk didn’t seem to realize that her voice had changed.

  “Could be,” the clerk agreed.

  “There are rumors of a black mage in the area,” Sorcha continued. “Short, ugly fellow.”

  “Short, ugly fellow,” the clerk repeated. “I’ve heard that.”

  “Do you want anything?” Sorcha asked me in her normal voice.

  “Maybe some mints,” I said to the clerk. “Give me a copper’s worth.”

  The clerk nodded and pulled out a small paper bag that he filled with hard mints. When that was done, he checked his register, added the copper to our bill, then nodded.

  “That will be twenty-five coppers,” he remarked.

  I counted out the coins as Sorcha scooped up our purchases. The clerk and I exchanged nods one more time, and then Sorcha and I returned to Main Street. Several of the gossips still lingered on the sidewalks, and Sorcha tugged me toward one of the larger groups that had taken up a spot just outside the Coachman’s Inn.

  “Well, I can’t imagine what old man Bennett must be up to,” one of the women said as we neared the inn.

  “Morning, ladies,” I said in my most charming voice as we stopped outside the inn.

  “Oh, why, hello,” one of the older women in the group replied as the others took in our appearances. Unlike her companions, who all wore plain, sturdy clothes, this woman had on a silky dress that fell just below the knees, a complicated updo with braids and curls, a heavy silver necklace, and several rings on her fingers. Add on the graying hair, the haughty look, and her position in the center of the ring, and there was no doubt she was one of the town leaders.

  “Has there been any more news about the commotion this morning?” Sorcha asked.

  “Not that we’ve heard,” the leader replied as she gave us a disapproving glance.

  “Someone in the store said that a black mage was involved,” Sorcha mused as her voice dropped again. “A short, ugly man.”

  “Oh,” the leader said as she blinked. “Yes, we’ve heard that as well.”

  “I wonder if Norma’s heard that,” one of the other women, a tiny thing with a very long nose, pondered as she looked down the street.

  “Maybe you should tell her,” Sorcha suggested.

  “I think I’ll just go tell her,” the long-nosed woman declared as she started down the street.

  The other women began to walk away as well, and I could hear them repeat the story of the short, ugly mage who had caused the earlier explosions as they moved along the sidewalk.

  “The whole town will believe the story before too much longer,” the Irishwoman proclaimed.


  “That was well done,” I said with a grin. “I could have used a partner like you on the playground when I was a kid.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Theriot, though I doubt you would have liked me much then,” Sorcha laughed. “I used to make the boys jump in the pond during the middle of winter.”

  “Ouch,” I replied. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  “Well, so far you’ve managed to behave yourself quite admirably,” she purred.

  “I’ll endeavor to continue to do so,” I said in my most cultured sounding voice. “But in the meantime, we should find Charles Darwin. I’m hoping this won’t take long and we can be on the move again soon. I’d like to put some more distance between us and the Magesterium.”

  “So what are you going to ask him?” Sorcha asked as we started down the sidewalk toward the building with the large red sign that read ‘Motown Police Department’.

  “I’d like to see the… weapons he has,” I mused. “Maybe see if he has any tips. Also, we should probably ask him about the one we found in the wastelands.”

  “It sounds like a short visit to me,” Sorcha replied. “I think a nice meal at the Coachman’s Inn would be just the thing to top it all off before we return to the roads.”

  I laughed and took her hand as we passed the police department building. The section that had been the old church was a pink brick construct, longer than it was wide, with a wooden steeple that looked out over the center of the town. I could just make out a bell inside the tower as well as a carved figure at the very top of the steeple roof. It looked like a man with his arms held wide to his side, though it was hard to see much of the fine details. Along the sides of the building, colored glass flashed in the sunlight and offered images of plants and animals, and sometimes books.

  It was easy enough to pick out the later addition. It was tacked on to the back of the church by a narrow walkway and looked dreary even in the bright day. It was made of carved logs and bricks that had been salvaged from pre-magic buildings and was little more than a dark box. Even the windows were small, and I imagined the interior would have lamps on all the time just so the officers could see what they were doing.