He stepped out of the tent and tore off a piece of beef with his teeth. He shook out the cramps in his leg and stretched, looking around the flatland outside of the tent. He was standing in a long, tall shadow. He turned around and saw the radio tower. Jem scratched the top of his head and said, “I’ll be damned.”
13. And Then I See A Darkness
Hank Raddiger begged and whined until Little Willy Harpe finally lifted one of his fingers and said, “Fine, as long as you shut up already. Euphoria.” Hank’s head snapped back like he’d been shot in the forehead and he convulsed all the way to the ground where he squealed and kicked over a whole row of books on one of the shelves in Bill Sutherland’s office. Papers and pamphlets scattered into the air and Sutherland took cover behind his chair.
“That’s enough,” Little Willy said after a few moments. “We have things to do.”
The connection broke and Hank pounded his fist against the floor. “You said I could have a full ride, Willy! Goddamn it, you promised.”
“It makes me disgusted the way you beg, Hank.”
Hank’s expression softened and he pressed his hands together and got down on his knees. “Master? Please. I’m begging you. Just a little more.”
Little Willy stroked the long black oily streak around his neck and said, “Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. Go find me a rat, there should be one scurrying around in the lot, and when you come back take that rat and stick its head in your mouth. If you can bite the rat’s head off before it bites your tongue off, I’ll give you a ride like you ain’t never had.”
Sweat beaded like grease bubbling inside a skillet on Hank’s forehead as he weighed the challenge. Finally, he nodded and raced out of the office, ducking between ships to search for his prey. Bill Sutherland stood up from behind the chair, clutched his stomach for fear that the sickness boiling in his gut was about to spill out.
Little Willy sighed sadly and said, “I know my associate can be a little bit pathetic. It’s a shame, really, but that boy would do damn near anything for some of that Euphoria. And I mean, anything. I could make him do anything I wanted, of course. Same as I could make you, Bill. But it’s the desperation that makes it exciting, if you see what I mean?”
“No. Not really.” Sutherland pressed his back against his office wall and steeled himself.
Little Willy frowned and said, “You know what? Me either. I think when he gets back I’m gonna tell him the trash furnace is a swimming pool and we can watch him dive into it. Better yet, I’ll tell him there are bugs crawling under his skin and that he has to peel it off to get rid of them! Should make for a fun evening’s entertainment, what do you say, Bill?”
Sutherland struggled to find words to respond with when the center console on his desk beeped twice. Sutherland dove for desk and pressed the button eagerly, “Yes? What is it?”
A uniformed Customs officer appeared on the screen. “We intercepted a PNDA distress signal coming from a planet that matches the trajectory of the Marshal’s ship.”
Harpe spun the console around to face him, “Where did it originate from?”
“A small mining planet called Seneca.”
Sutherland turned the console away from Little Willy, in his own direction. “Did the signal make it any further?”
“We killed it immediately, sir.”
“Good work.” Sutherland shut the screen off and sat down at his desk. He resisted the urge to sigh with relief and instead used his most professional tone to say, “I can have a ship outfitted and ready to take you and your friend within the hour, Mr. Harpe. I am sure you want to be on your way as soon as possible.”
Little Willy presented his hand to the Chief and Sutherland grabbed it enthusiastically. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Harpe,” he said. As soon as your ship is clear of my station, I am going to blow you into cosmic dust.
Harpe stopped smiling and looked down at Sutherland’s hand. He cocked his head sideways, admiring it. “You have nice hands, Chief.” He stroked the skin on Sutherland’s hand with the tips of his fingers. “But you’re a nail biter, I see. You do that when you’re nervous?”
“Not really. Just out of habit, mainly,” Sutherland said. He tugged, trying to free his hand from Harpe’s grip, but Harpe held him fast.
“Not because you’re hungry? Speaking of that, it’s gonna be a long day for me. You think I should eat before I go?”
“That sounds like it’s a good idea. Can I have my hand back?”
“It does sound like a good idea, doesn’t it?” Harpe said. “In fact, you’re hungry now too.”
“Yes, I am,” Sutherland said suddenly. He smiled with embarrassment that he’d needed Little Willy to remind him. “I could damn near eat anything.”
“You don’t say,” Little Willy said. He looked down at Sutherland’s hand and stroked it gently.
Ten minutes later, Hank Raddiger hurried back to the Chief’s office, holding a long-tailed rodent by its throat. He was careful not to kill it, but wanted it to be stunned a little before he had to put it in his mouth. He thought about slamming its head against the wall a few times, but was in too much of a rush to get back. “Willy!” he called out. “Willy, I’ve got it-”
Little Willy stepped in front of him at the doorway to block his entrance. “Stop yelling, you damn fool.”
Hank lifted up the rat. “I’ve got it,” he said. His hand was dripping with blood from where its claws tore him when he snatched it. It squirmed in his hand and squealed. “I’m ready,” he said, opening his mouth wide around the creature’s head.
“Get rid of it,” Little Willy said. “We’re leaving.”
“What about our deal?”
“Get rid of it.”
“Aw, goddamn, Little Willy. You swore.” Hank threw the rat as hard as he could against the wall and continued to whine, but Little Willy ignored him.
Little Willy kept his head turned to inside the Chief’s office and he nodded with approval and said, “There you go. That’s how you do it.” Something was making a sickening crunching and slurping noise inside the office. “Keep going, Bill. Finish your meal.”
Bill Sutherland’s mouth was full of something wet and he garbled his words, saying, “So good. So unbelievably good.”
Hank tapped Little Willy on the shoulder. “Is the Chief coming with us?”
“Bill’s slightly occupied. Go find me a ship,” Little Willy said. He looked back into the office and said, “Okay, Bill. Time’s about up. Wake up and tell me what you see.”
Hank tried to look past Little Willy’s enormous form, but a shriek burst out from inside the office so full of horror that Hank immediately ran off into the docking bays to find a ship.
***
Four days after Jem Clayton had come to her house, Janet Walters summed up the nerve to go and see him. She knocked on the Sheriff’s Office screen door, and when no one answered, she put her face against the screen and frowned when she saw a grizzled old man sitting at the desk . “Go away,” he said.
Janet folded her arms and did not budge. “Who are you? Where’s Sheriff Junger?”
“I’m Mr. Never You Mind, and this other feller is Nobody Cares, now beat it.”
“Where’s Jem Clayton?”
“Not here.”
“Are you gonna let me in?”
“No.”
Janet banged her hand against the door and said, “You open up right away, whoever you are. I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m not leaving until I get to speak to someone in authority.”
McParlan grunted and came to the door. “We’re closed. Your so-called Sheriff ain’t here. I’m a PNDA Marshal and I’m housing a prisoner in this facility, which means I don’t have time to investigate who stole your ears of corn or why Miss Mary Lou played fiddle at the ho-down instead of Old Billy Bob.”
Janet folded her arms across her bountiful chest and said, “Lister here, Mister Fancy Off-World Newcomer, I didn’t come to make no complaints. I came
to bring something to Jem Clayton.” She held up a framed photograph and said, “It’s a picture of Jem’s daddy, Sam, back when he was the Sheriff.”
McParlan opened the door to take the picture from her, and Janet wedged past him to look at the man inside the cell. Elijah Harpe was lying on his back with his bandaged leg propped in the air, snoring. Her eyes widened, “Is that your prisoner? I heard he’s famous.”
“Don’t go anywhere near him,” McParlan said. “He’s only famous for all the disgusting things he does to innocent women right before he slits their throats. Ain’t that right Elijah?”
The man in the cell did not respond, but his snores paused long enough for McParlan to see a slight smile at the corners of his mouth. McParlan looked back at the picture. “Is that Jem back when he was a boy?”
Janet peered over his shoulder and nodded, “Sure was. And that’s his little sister, Claire. She’s married to a man that got gimped in the mines, poor thing. She’s been taking care of him for most of their marriage. Everybody says it’s a shame how she got stuck taking care of a cripple, being so pretty and all, but I think it’s sweet.” Janet pointed at the man standing in the middle of the photo wearing a gold star on his vest, “That’s their daddy, Sheriff Sam Clayton. Wasn’t he handsome? Everybody says how much Jem looks like him.”
“Is that your daddy?” McParlan said.
“That was Deputy Tom Masters. I live in his old house down Pioneer Way. That’s how I came upon this. My sister married his son Bart. I was going to take it to Claire myself, but she lives all the way at the opposite end of the settlement at the last house on Pioneer Way. I hoped to see Jem before he left. Everybody says he won’t stick around for long.”
“He’ll be back,” McParlan said. “I’ll make sure he gets this.”
“I’m much obliged,” Janet said. “I work just down the street, across from the Proud Lady.” Janet looked around the office and said, “Are you stuck in here all this time?”
McParlan shrugged and said, “Somebody’s got to stay here and guard the prisoner.”
“When’s the last time you had a home cooked meal?”
The old Marshal scratched his chin and took a second look at the young woman standing in the doorway. She was heavy, sure, big as a truck, but she had real pretty eyes and her bosoms were bunched together to create a deep crevice that looked like the kind of place he might be able to rest his head and stay awhile. McParlan said, “It’s been a long, long time, Miss Janet.”
“You come see me tonight and I’ll fix you up something special,” she said. “You gonna hold onto that picture for Jem?”
McParlan stood the photograph on the edge of the table so it would be the first thing anyone saw when they walked in the door. “Maybe if they see this, they’ll remember what a real lawman looked like.”
Janet said good day and let herself out the door. McParlan watched her go down the street and smiled despite himself when she turned around and looked back, checking to see if he was still standing there. Elijah Harpe’s voice ruined the moment. “Hey, Marshal?”
“What?”
“Can I see that picture?”
“Why?”
“I just want to.”
“No.”
“How old’s the little girl?” Harpe said. “Is she young? Is she pretty?”
McParlan ignored Harpe’s thick snorts of laughter as he kicked his feet up on the Sheriff’s desk and laid his head back. “I get a contented feeling when I think about you spending the rest of your miserable life on a penal colony, boy. I really do.”
***
The heater in the basement made an unstoppable clanking noise that sounded like a freight train running through Anna’s office basement. Anna had taken the contraption apart a dozen times. She changed the filters and tightened every bolt, but it still rattled enough to shake the operating room floorboards overhead.
She picked up a heavy wrench and smacked the units thick metal side. She proceeded to curse it out when she was interrupted by a polite cough coming from the stairwell. Harlan Wells said, “Miss Anna, you all right down here?”
She wiped a grease-smeared hand across her forehead and nodded. Harlan’s boy, Adam, was hunched over behind him, watching her. Anna dropped the wrench on the workbench and said, “I’m fine, it’s just that this dang heater hasn’t worked right since Doctor Halladay was here. I’m ready to rip it out and just buy a new one.”
“Listen, you’ve been real kind to us since we got here. Let my boy Adam take a look. He’s got some kind of special gift for fixing things. Do you mind?”
Anna looked at the young man, who seemed too obsessed with the movements of his fingers to comprehend keeping his mouth closed to stop drooling all over the place, let alone fix her heater. “I’m just going to get rid of it anyway, Mr. Wells. Let him have as much fun as he wants with it.”
Harlan patted Adam on the arm and said, “Go ahead, son. Fix that thing for Miss Anna.”
Adam looked back at his father with no obvious signs of recognition.
“Adam,” Harlan repeated, pointing at the heater and coaxing Adam to look at it. “Go over there and fix Miss Anna’s heater. It’s making an awful racket.” Harlan mimicked the heater’s BONG-BONG-BONG sound, and Adam said, “BONG-BONG-BONG.”
Harlan stuck his fingers in his ears and made an ugly face. “Make that sound stop. There you go. Good boy.”
Adam approached the heater and looked it over. He ran his fingers over the coiled wires and touched the pressure gauges attached to them; he laid his ear against its wide metal belly and listened.
The boy sifted through the tools on the work bench and started to disassemble the bolts connecting the water lines. The clanging stopped. Adam continued working and Harlan said, “He might look simple, but he ain’t.”
Marshal McParlan’s muffled voice hollered Anna’s name from outside and down the street. “Damn,” Anna said. “I was supposed to go watch the prisoner for a spell. I’ll be back, Mr. Wells.”
“I can go,” Harlan said. “Adam will be fine here. I promise he won’t blow up your office. You go get freshened up. Jem should be back by nightfall, and you’ll want to wash that grease off your face and make yourself all pretty.”
Anna put her hands on her hips. “Just what does that mean?”
“It means I’m an old fart who’s been around long enough to know what it means when a woman can’t take two steps without bumping into something and spends a long time looking through the security gate. She’s waiting for her man to come home.” Harlan tipped his hat and smiled at her before turning to go up the steps.
There was dust on the road outside of the office, kicked up by passing carriages, and Harlan covered his face with his neckerchief before he crossed. Jimmy McParlan was leaning on the handrail, watching the older man limp out of the way of an oncoming carriage. “How’s that forehead, Mr. Wells?”
Harlan lifted his cap to show the Marshal the line of stitches that ran under his hairline like railroad tracks and said, “At first, I was afraid it was gonna ruin my modeling career, but Miss Anna told me scars are sexy.”
McParlan laughed and opened the door for Harlan. “This sum-bitch hasn’t moved in two days except to eat and use the toilet. I need to go scout this town’s layout and see if we can’t set up some sniper nests, or choke points, or something we can use to our advantage. We got us a fight coming, and if Jem don’t come back, we’re dead men.”
“Well, you go do what you need to and I’ll make sure Mr. Harpe stays put,” Harlan said.
“If he talks to you, ignore him. If he begs and pleads with you, ignore him. If he wants you to come close to listen to him, ignore him. I’ve seen prisoners throw a handful of their own filth at guards just for laughs. You follow me?”
“I do. I won’t go anywhere near him.”
“And most especially, if he does anything that remotely looks like he is trying to escape, pick up that pistol on the desk and shoot him. Can you do that?”
Harlan looked at the old pistol laying on the desk. “I will do my best.”
“Okay. Good.” McParlan took a deep breath and made sure he had Harlan’s full attention, “I hesitate to say this because it probably won’t happen, but maybe it’s one of those things that can still happen unless you say it might happen. At which point it won’t. Kind of like a reverse-jinx.”
“If you say so, Marshal.”
“If any hostiles show up to try and take this fool before I get back, you need to understand one thing. They might try to convince you that if you give them Elijah they will go away peacefully. That is a damn lie. They will do unspeakable things to every man, woman and child in this town just to send a message. If they show up, you take that pistol and kill as many as you can, but kill that son of a bitch first.”
Harlan watched the Marshal ease down the steps toward the road and looked back at the gun. He’d never fired one before. Harlan picked it up and stuck it in his belt, and when he turned around, he saw Elijah Harpe sitting up in his bunk, staring at him. Elijah smirked and laid back down on the bench, folding his hands under his head before closing his eyes to go back to sleep.
***
McParlan stuck his fingers in his ears and waited for the high-pitched whining to cease. He walked past the mining site’s entrance toward the column of massive machines all gathered around a massive crater. They were larger than buildings and shot white hot laser beams into the quarry in bursts that shook the ground and blew gusts of rock dust into the air. The Marshal tapped one of the workers on the shoulder and asked to speak to someone in charge and was directed toward a young man holding a clipboard.
McParlan walked over to him and touched the badge on his dusty coat, “Marshal James McParlan of the PNDA. Who’re you?”
Guns of Seneca 6 (Chamber 1 of the Guns of Seneca 6 Saga) Page 12