Little Willy closed his eyes and felt the creature ripple with energy. He reached out with his mind and tried to reignite the spark of existence inside Elijah's brain. It was cold and dark, unlike anything he'd ever encountered.
Elijah's presence was out of reach, and Little Willy commanded him to return over and over until the eyelids on Elijah's face began to flutter. Little Willy stroked the decomposing flesh on his brother's cheek and said, "I'm here, Elijah. Don't be afraid. I'm right here."
Elijah's mouth opened and closed and Little Willy focused until the brain matter surrounding his hand grew hot, as if he were holding a scalding cauldron of boiling water. He tried smashing the skull against the hull of the ship, frantic to free his hand. The creature started to peel away from Little Willy's body, its dark purple color turning pink and spotty as it unseated itself from his flesh.
Hank Raddiger gasped as soon as Little Willy's spell over him ended. He sat on the ground in silence, feeling a cool breeze blow over his aching body. When he sat up, Little Willy was sitting cross-legged next to him, looking down at the creature sunk into his armpit, sucking on the fluids in his body. "What the hell is this thing?" Willy said.
"Something evil!" Hank said. "Something I wish we'd never found. Let's get rid of it right now while it's weak."
"How long has he had it?"
"How long has who had it?" Hank said.
"My brother," Harpe said. "It's amazing."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Hank said. "We fought those military bastards for it last week and you've been letting it crawl all over you ever since."
Little Willy looked at the severed head on the ground and whipped his head away. "Get rid of that thing, Hank. Get rid of it right now. I don't want to see it ever again."
Hank got to his feet and brushed himself off. "Ok, Little Willy."
"Elijah," he said. "Don't call me by my brother's name."
A hundred yards above the canyon, Charlie Boles grabbed his son by the shoulder and said, "We're getting the hell out of here and going home."
A rifle's battery pack hummed in Boles' ear and he looked over his shoulder to see one of the uniformed Custom's officers aiming the weapon at him. "Don't move."
17. Pale Horse
Dr. Royce Halladay set his cards down on the table and shook his head mournfully. "I apologize for my lack of knowledge, but I am not certain if having four of the same card is a good hand. And these do not even have the decency to be a proper number. Tell me, is the letter 'A' a good card to have?"
The other men at the table threw their cards down in disgust. "Go to hell, Halladay," one of them said.
Halladay stared at the men in affected confusion as they stood up to leave. "But what about all this money you've left on the table, gentlemen? Well, I suppose I must take it then, if only to keep it safe until you return." He raked the pile of coins and bills toward himself and chuckled. The chuckle became a cough, then a bark that left him gagging on phlegm and blood.
He looked up as the Proud Lady's doors swung open and Sheriff Walt Junger came through them, looking all around the bar until their eyes met. "There are four warrants for your arrest on this side of the planet alone, Royce," Junger said.
"I would prefer if you called me, 'Doctor,' if it's all the same to you, Walter." Halladay slid the money inside his shirt pocket and stood up to walk over to the bar with his empty glass. He set the glass down and tapped it for the bartender to fill it up again.
People standing around the bar had stopped what they were doing to watch the scene unfold, and Junger's face started to twitch. He hitched up his gun belt and loudly announced, "I'll call you anything I damn well please, blood-spitter. And it's Sheriff Junger to scum like you."
Halladay turned toward him with a raised eyebrow, "Now why would I call you that, Walter? Doctor is a distinction I earned, while the title Sheriff has only ever truly belonged to one man, and we both know what happened to him."
"He was killed by the savages out in the wasteland. I saw his body, which is a damn sight more than you did after you ran off and hid when we were under attack."
"Has that story passed through your lips so many times that you actually are starting to believe it, Walter? I wonder." Halladay swallowed his drink and set it on the bar. His eyes were bloodshot and ached from lack of sleep. His legs jittered with restlessness and there was fire in his chest that boiled his guts, yet when he looked at Walt Junger standing there, all red-faced and affronted, Halladay suddenly felt right. He stood up straight and said, "Do you want to talk about what Tilt told me right before he passed on? It is a hell of a story."
Junger backed away and struggled to unsnap his guns, shouting, "You are under arrest!"
Halladay produced two pistols, both aimed an inch from the Sheriff's face. He cocked back both hammers and waited for Junger to lift his hands away from his weapons. Halladay smiled gently and said, "I apologize, Walter. You were not prepared."
Halladay decocked the pistols and twirled them in his palms twice before dropping them back into their holsters. Both men stood facing one another, unarmed. Halladay said, "Are you ready?"
"Seneca 6 is a civilized town, Doctor Halladay! We have laws. This is not how we do things."
Halladay started to answer when his face suddenly contorted and he bent forward, as if to begin a great fit of coughing. Junger grabbed for his pistols, when Halladay snatched both of his guns out of their holsters and jammed their barrels against Junger's forehead. "That was called theatrics, Walter. And the cuckoo on your clock just crowed."
Junger turned for the Proud Lady's doors and ran through them, screaming for help. Halladay walked slowly down the steps after him, aiming his pistols near Junger's feet. Halladay fired and the ground exploded next to Junger's boots, sending him sprawling across the road. Halladay cocked the other pistol and shot it into the ground near where Junger lay and said, "Get up."
Junger got up to his feet and let his hands hang loose at his sides.
"Arm yourself, cur," Halladay said.
Junger stood there shivering, clutching his arms around his chest and he said, "Go to hell, Royce. You're gonna have to gun me down in cold blood."
Halladay smiled when he said, "Oh, but I assure you, mine is colder than a crocodile's." He went to pull the trigger, but the metal barrel of a rifle tapped him on the shoulder and stayed his hand. Halladay looked back at the young man holding the weapon and said, "Bartholomew Masters? Tom's boy? I was always fond of Tom. Now, kindly remove from this conflict before you become perforated."
"I can't allow you to gun down our Sheriff, Doc. Especially when he doesn't even have the decency to arm himself."
"I will kill you and a dozen more who remotely look like you just to eliminate this son of a bitch, Bartholomew. Stand aside!"
"I have no doubt you will," Bart said. "But it don't change the fact that I can't just stand here and watch you do it."
Junger backed away from Halladay and said, "That's a good lad. You'll be well compensated for this."
Bart scowled at him and said, "Just run off and don't show your face again until things've calmed down." He waited for Junger to disappear between the two nearest buildings to lower his rifle and said, "I'm awful sorry, Doc, but we still need to have some law in this town, even if the people we trust to enforce it aren't worth the slime on a ring worm."
Halladay groaned and secured both his pistols back in their holsters. He turned on Bart to say, "Twenty years ago I put five stitches in your father's head after he was attacked on the same spot you are now standing. I do not believe he ever paid me for them. I will take my payment from you, immediately, in the form of liquid nourishment. I'll also agree not to put a canoe through your forehead for interfering with my plans."
"It would be my honor, sir."
William James Elliot, the Honorable Mayor and Judge of Seneca 6, stood on the porch of the Sheriff's Office with his thumbs hooked through his pearl white suspenders. He was a thin man in a tai
lored suit made of fabric that shimmered in the morning light. He propped one foot up against the railing and swept dirt from the heel. The shoe was made of an exotic animal's skin that had been imported off-world.
Elliot took a puff of his cigar and blew the acrid smoke into the air as he watched Marshal James McParlan come out of Anna Willow's office down the street. He smiled at McParlan but kept the cigar clenched in his teeth.
The Marshal waited impatiently for the wagons to let him cross. The bruises on his face were dark now, and he appeared to be favoring his left side. McParlan looked up at Elliot and said, "Can I help you?"
"No, you cannot. But I assure you that I can be of great help to you." Elliot tapped ashes on the railing and said, "Why don't we go inside and discuss it?"
McParlan opened the door and saw Walt Junger sitting at his desk behind a stack of carefully arranged documents. McParlan removed his hat and sat on the visitor's bench while Elliot leaned against the jail cell and re-lit his cigar. "My associate and I were wondering when you might be leaving?" Elliot said.
McParlan looked him up and down, "Just who in the hell are you supposed to be?"
"This here is the town Mayor and Judge. You will address him with the proper respect while in my presence."
"Why, you got Bart Masters hiding in the back to protect you in case I pull a gun?" McParlan said. He turned to Elliot, "The answer to your question is simple. I'm not leaving until the threat is eliminated."
Junger opened his mouth to speak, but Elliot silenced him with a sideways glance. "Your prisoner is dead, Marshal," Elliot said. "Your authority here ended the moment Jem Clayton dragged that poor bastard out into the desert. Now, as the highest elected legal authority in this territory, I'm advising you that your services are no longer needed. Your continued presence here is also no longer needed, nor welcome."
McParlan saw the satisfied look on both men's faces and said, "Both you hotshot hillbilly cousin-kissers might be able to push people around in this town, but I'm not from this town, so excuse me if I don't piss my pants in awe of your 'legal authority.' Right now there's a mass murderer on his way here with a highly-classified military weapon that he will use on every last man, woman and child in this settlement."
"What proof do you have of that, Marshal?" Elliot said. "A deranged old man, who I might add, you brought here. The same man you shot to death right outside this very door?"
Junger waved his hand around the office at his multiple plaques and awards and said, "I've kept this town safe for twenty years without your assistance. Why should I need it now?"
"You'll have the corpse with the most medals after Little Willy gets through with you, Sheriff. That's the parts of you he doesn't eat, of course. Now, speaking of eating, if you're done wasting my time here, I'm going to go get some breakfast."
Junger watched McParlan limp out of the office and slammed the door shut behind him. "Son of a bitch, Billy. It's only a matter of time before that Marshal starts sticking his nose into things that don't concern him. I'm telling you, it's a bad omen that Halladay and Jem Clayton are back and that they brought this one-eyed bastard with them."
Elliot stuck his fingers between the blinds and watched people passing the office along Pioneer Way. "Here's what we're gonna do, Walter. We're gonna lower the prices at the Proud Lady and the interest rates at the Savings and Loan. That should keep the locals stupid and happy for the time being."
"And what about the trouble makers?"
Elliot re-lit his cigar and took it out of his mouth to blow on the tip, making it glow bright red. "Deactivate every security gate on Seneca 6. Let's leave the doors open for a little while and see what wanders in."
Little Willy Harpe squatted in front of Charlie Boles Junior and waved his hand in front of the boy's face. The boy's stare was vacant. Harpe snapped his fingers in front of Junior's nose and there was no response. "Did I break him?"
"I don't think so," Hank Raddiger said. He was careful not to get too close to the man. The voice coming from Harpe's mouth was markedly different than before, but Hank was suspicious that Little Willy was playing games with him.
Harpe shook Junior by the shoulders. "Come back to us, boy."
Junior's eyes opened. His pupils were dilated and would not focus. Finally, Junior smiled stupidly and said, "Hey, Elijah."
He looked around for his father and saw that the two Customs Officers were taping plastic explosive packets around his midsection. They squeezed each packet flat and sculpted them to Boles' body. Charlie Boles grinned at Junior when the officers handed him his gunbelt. He buckled the belt and said, "Now I'm ready!"
Junior lifted his shirt to show his father the plastic explosives wrapped around his own waist and said, "I am too."
Harpe looked at him and said, "Do you know what you are prepared for?"
"For glory," the boy said.
Harpe's voice was patient and instructional, like a teacher reviewing a lesson with his pupil. "And what are you to do?"
"Find Jem Clayton and tell him my Pa has a score to settle with him."
"How will you recognize this servant of evil?"
"He's the man that stole our wagon and beat my Pa."
"What will you do after you find him?"
"Let everybody know there's gonna be a big fight, and get them all to come out into the street."
"Blessed truly are the children," Harpe said. "What then?"
"I press this button." Junior showed Harpe the toggle switch in his hand, connected by wires that disappeared beneath the cuff at the wrist of his shirt. The wires snaked along inside the sleeve, winding down his chest to where they connected to the set of plastic explosives wrapped around his thin, hairless stomach. "Then, I walk to wherever the biggest group of women and children are standing, and all I need to do it let go of it. That's when I go to glory and all of them get to come with me."
Harpe pulled Junior by the shoulders and kissed him on top of his head. "You long for the spiritual milk, my son, and it shall it be yours. Before nightfall you will look upon the face of the Lord All Mighty and drink all that you desire."
Junior smiled and nodded as Harpe walked over to Charlie Boles. He told Boles to hand him his gun and proceeded to remove all of the bullets from the weapon. "Why you doing that, Little…Elijah?" Hank said. "I thought you wanted him to duel Clayton?"
Harpe handed the gun back to Boles, who holstered it. "Do you think I want to chance Clayton getting gunned down in the street and for it to all be over?" Harpe checked the dead man's switch in Boles' left hand, making sure the wires were hidden inside the sleeve. "I want my good friend to bear witness to this, Hank. And I want him to know it is just getting started."
Harpe watched Charlie Boles and his son get onto the same destrier and trot up through the canyon. "You did say my brother considered you his Lieutenant, right?"
"That's right. I was the one figured out where you were taken, and how to get here. He was so grateful he gave me what he called 'The Rapture.' He would just look at me and speak that one little word. I was thinking we could have that same agreement."
Harpe frowned and said, "That don't sound much like my brother."
Hank felt feverish with need. He pulled on Harpe's shirt and said, "Your brother and me had special arrangements, Elijah. Please, just a little?"
"Suffering introduces a man unto himself, Hank," Harpe said. "You want me to arrange a more intimate introduction?"
"No."
"Good. I'm looking for two long pieces of metal. Thick enough to hold the weight of a man, and twelve feet long, at least. Have you seen anything like that?"
Hank removed his hat and looked around the scene of the wreckage. "I'm sure we can find something in this mess."
The Boles were near the top of the canyon, about to descend on the trail that would take them to Seneca 6's security gate. "I spent my whole life believing that I was doing the Lord's work, and that when the time came, he would take me to his side and thank me for being his loy
al servant. You cannot imagine my surprise when the time of my death came and there was no glory waiting. Nothing…just oblivion. It was a never-ending darkness more horrible than any hell you could possibly imagine. I admit it, for a moment, my faith was shaken. I thought I'd backed the wrong horse, Hank. You follow me?"
Hank nodded and said, "I think so. I'm not sure."
"My job wasn't to serve God," Harpe said. He cast his eyes skyward and touched the creature embedded in his chest. "It was to become Him."
Bart Masters guided his destrier down Pioneer Way, ignoring the stares from people he passed who looked at the mining device strapped to his saddle. "Taking your work home with you, Bart?" someone said.
"That's right. Our stove's broken and I need it to heat up the water," Bart replied.
He pulled up his reins in front of Anna Willow's office and removed the backpack from the saddle. "I'm here, Marshal."
Jimmy McParlan came out and looked the device over. "Did they give you a hard time taking it off the site?"
"When they find out about it, I'll probably get fired."
McParlan sucked on his teeth and said, "Show me how this thing works again."
Masters lowered the pack to the ground. "This here is the battery and charging cells." He held up the hose and wand connected to the pack. "This is the barrel where the laser comes out. You can adjust the intensity of the beam here." He handed the unit to McParlan and said, "I don't see what use it's going to be, Marshal. The beam only comes out about a foot no matter how high you adjust it."
"That's just cause you don't know how to adjust it right."
"And you do?"
"No. But Adam Wells does." McParlan looked over as a destrier approached the security gate with a man and boy riding together. They did not stop to enter a code and went through the gate unhindered. "What the hell?" McParlan said. He handed Masters the mining device and said, "Take this into Adam and tell him to make it better. I'll be right in."
Guns of Seneca 6 Box Set Collected Saga (Chambers 1-4) Page 16