Guns of Seneca 6 Box Set Collected Saga (Chambers 1-4)

by Bernard Schaffer

  Bart Masters was standing next to Harpe with his arms stiff at his side, like a military man waiting to be inspected by a superior officer. Harpe waved for Jem and Halladay to keep coming closer.

  Jem stopped in front of Harpe and said, "You must be the famous Little Willy."

  "You think so?" Harpe said with a grin.

  "Maybe there's something we can do to work this out?" Jem said.

  "I don't think so--"

  Jem pulled his pistol out so quickly that he nearly fired off a shot point blank at Little Willy's face before he could say, "STOP!" Jem's gun fired, but his hand stiffened around the gun's handle just as he pulled the trigger and bullet went wide, tearing Little Willy's left ear in half. Royce Halladay was frozen at Jem's side, his gun half-raised.

  Harpe grimaced and pressed his hand to his ruined ear. He inspected the blood on his palm and looked at the stiffened faces of Jem and Doctor Halladay. "You are unbelievably fast, boy. That almost got me. Who do you two want to shoot first? The Marshal?"

  Jem felt himself turning to aim his Defeater at McParlan's chest. "What about the one with the laser?" Harpe said. Jem tried to stop himself from drawing his second pistol but it was beyond his control. He raised his second gun and aimed it at the face of Bart Masters, who stood defenseless.

  Harpe turned to Halladay. "How about you? Wouldn't you like to kill this moody little prick yet?"

  Halladay stuck his gun against Jem's chest. Harpe rubbed his hands together and admired his handiwork. He pointed at Bart Masters and said, "Point that ray gun at the old man." Once Masters had done so, he said, "Oh my, but don't you boys look cinematic!"

  Harpe circled around them, going from one man to the next. "I know you're all in there. I can feel you. I'd let you speak, but it would just be you talking tough or begging for mercy, and I simply don't have the patience for it." He stopped at Jem. "You know? I had all sorts of plans for you. We were going to have ourselves a little party after what you did to me. But since I've come back I've gained a whole new perspective and realized I have much bigger things on my plate. So, on the count of three, you're all going to fire and I will get on with the business of recreating the universe in my image. Ready?"

  Harpe started to count. "One…two….what the hell?" He looked up and saw a figure standing high above them on the cliff. It was an old man, wearing a long robe with fringe dangling from the sleeves. His white hair blew in the swirl of wind that rose around him. The old man looked down at Harpe and clapped his hands together with such force that it echoed throughout the canyon.

  Mahpiya of the Beothuk chanted into the winds and aimed his staff at the creature tucked beneath Harpe's arm. Clouds filled the sky and turned black as winds whipped through the trees overlooking the canyon, sending leaves and branches into the air. Mahpiya drew circles in the air with his staff and suddenly yanked back like he was dragging a fish from the sea with a rod and reel.

  One of the creature's long tendrils ripped itself out of Harpe's belly. Its tendrils dripped blood as it shriveled. A second one ripped free of Harpe's neck and he gasped and clutched the open wound left there.

  Mahpiya's chant filled the valley as two riders on destriers raced down into the canyon. Hooves beat the ground as the animal's enormous legs pivoted each impossible twist of the path. Bug was in the lead, using his knees to steer as he lifted his bow and sent an arrow sailing into Little Willy's leg.

  One of the Customs Officers opened fire on Bug as the boy flew past. Bullets riddled the back of his destrier, sending blood and fur into the air. Haienwa'tha's destrier leapt from the trail onto the ground and the young warrior hurled an axe at the Officer. The Officer stared at the axe's long handle sticking out of his face before falling down dead.

  Bug's destrier fell over mid-sprint, sending him skidding across the ground. The second Customs Officer tracked Bug's rolling form with his weapon, about to fire when an arrow whistled through the air at him from high above the canyon. Osceola watched his arrow puncture the Officer's right temple and raced across the dark ledge to get to Mahpiya's side.

  The medicine man reached into the satchel around his waist for a handful of fluorescent powder. It crackled when he blew it from his palm, carrying through the air and raining on Harpe. Another tentacle unseated from Harpe and he dropped to one knee, screaming in pain.

  Harpe reached up and snatched one of the creature's free tentacles and started to pull. "What are you doing?" he shouted.

  "Give me back my body, you thief!" It was Little Willy's voice that came from his mouth. "Go back to the grave where you belong, Elijah!"

  "Let me finish my work!" Elijah roared back. Little Willy had pulled the creature away so that it was only connected to him by its head. The head was sunk deep in his armpit with foot-long fangs, drinking from his heart endlessly.

  Osceola drew his finest arrow and notched it in his bow, aiming at Harpe while he was bent over and wrestling to keep himself from ripping the creature off.

  Mahpiya waved a fan of feathers in front of Osceola's arrow and stepped back, raising his hands to shout the last incantation. Osceola's arrow punctured the creature's bulbous head, making jets of green filth spew out of it. Harpe lifted his head back and gasped for breath. His hold on the men lessened for a moment, and Royce Halladay forced his pistol away from Jem's chest, straining to turn the weapon on Harpe.

  Harpe hollered in outrage at Halladay, "No! No! Stop! I COMMAND YOU!"

  Halladay's face turned purple and blood spilled out of his mouth. He started to cough but managed to take another step forward. Harpe shouted, "SUFFER! SUFFER!" making Halladay hunch over in pain, but still he took another step.

  "Suffer," Harpe panted.

  "Been doing that for as long as I can remember," Halladay said. He grabbed Harpe around the waist and spun him around to face Jem, shouting, "Shoot him!"

  The creature made terrified high-pitched noises and was trying to re-attach itself to Harpe. Jem tried to turn and get one of his guns centered on the creature while Harpe struggled with Halladay even as the creature's tentacles lashed both of their faces. "Get the hell out of the way, Doc!" Jem shouted. "I don't have a clear shot!"

  "If I let go, we're done for. Shoot now." Halladay looked at him and said, "As a friend, I am asking you, Jem. Shoot."

  Jem cocked back the hammer of his Defeater and fired into the center of creature's head. The bullet passed through the creature's large mouth and punched through Little Willy's heart.

  Royce Halladay let Harpe slide out of his hands and smiled at Jem, "Nice shot." Something burned in his chest and put his hand up to it just as a warm rush of blood spilled out of the hole from Jem's bullet. He looked at Jem and said, "Oh dear" before collapsing to the ground.

  Jem ran to him and pressed both of his hands over the hole, trying to keep the blood inside. "Bart!" he shouted.

  Bart Masters was bent over on his hands and knees, retching into the sand.

  "Bart! We need help!"

  Halladay coughed forcefully. "That truly was an admirable shot, Jem. Sam would be proud. I intend to discuss it with him in the next minute or so."

  "Stop that. You aren't going to die. I'll get Anna and she'll fix you up. Just lay still."

  Halladay coughed again, more fiercely this time and blood pumped into Jem's hands. "I have been dying for twenty years, my friend. I just needed the proper motivation to get it over with." Halladay's eyes searched the night sky above, peering at the limitless stars. He smiled gently and tears streamed down the sides of his face. He took one deep, final breath, and when he let it out he said, "There's my girl."

  20. No Snakes Alive

  Anna Willow stood waiting by the front gate with her medical bag ready. People had begun to crowd the town square as word about the rescue party spread. Bart's wife, Emma Masters, stood wrapped in a blanket. Her face was like a flood of full-blown despair held back by the last stitches of a torn suture. Emma's sister, Janet Walters, was at her side, and somehow, Janet managed to look
even worse than Emma.

  Adam Wells rocked back and forth, nervously touching the tip of each finger to his thumb over and over. Frank Miller sat in his wheelchair holding hands with his wife, drumming on the twelve-gauge shotgun sitting on his lap. Claire stood staring at the road beyond the security gate and did not look away.

  When the sky darkened, candles were passed around to the people and their lights drew the customers out of the Proud Lady to come and see what was going on. Anna listened to people giving excited explanations, and leaned close to Claire to say, "What a bunch of gossip-hungry wretches too cowardly to go with them, but they'll stand here all night waiting to see some bloodshed."

  A burst of automatic gunfire echoed from Coramide Canyon, and then another right behind it. As soon as the shooting stopped, one of the men said, "That's it. They're done for. Jem and Bart and Halladay are dead! Find every wagon you can and evacuate the town!"

  Mothers scooped up their children and ran down Pioneer Way as men grabbed their wives by the arm and started dragging them away from the front gate.

  Claire Miller picked up the shotgun from her husband's lap and fired it into the air.

  Everyone stopped and turned to look at her standing there with the gun held high and smoke pouring out of the barrel. She lowered the gun and jacked the spent casing out and chambered another shell. Claire's face was still swollen and the salve on her bruises shined brightly in the candle's glare. "Marshal McParlan was the first one digging your sorry asses out of the rubble when the bomb went off, and then he gave himself over to his enemies to try and save a town full of people who didn't lift a finger when the time came to go rescue him. Royce Halladay ain't seen the inside of Seneca 6 since I was six years old, but he went. Bart Masters never got into a fight since the day I was born, but he went too."

  People in the crowd said nothing and did not move except for the few that looked at the ground and scratched the back of their heads. "So now, if those brave men are dead, who is left to defend this place and these people?" She showed them the gun and said, "This gun belonged to Sheriff Sam Clayton, my daddy, the last lawman we ever had in this sorry excuse for a town. If he were here tonight you can bet your sweet ass he'd use it on the first son of a bitch who came through that gate to do us harm. Since he ain't, I'll do it for him. It's time somebody made a stand."

  Janet Walker pointed behind Claire and screamed in panic.

  "Not funny, Janet!" Claire barked, then as she turned to look, she saw a half-naked Beothuk warrior sitting on a destrier at the gate's entrance. Haienwa'tha was smeared with war paint across his face and torso, and he did not move when Claire lifted the gun at him and said, "Holy shit!"

  "Hoka hey," Haienwa'tha said. He raised his empty hands in the air and said, "Hoka Hey! El-halcon kola owa sich!"

  "Give me that gun, Claire," someone shouted. "Shoot him!"

  "Shut your mouth, goddamn it," Claire shouted back, never taking her eyes off of Haienwa'tha. "You stay right there, boy, or I will blow a hole through you. Now, what the hell are you trying to say?"

  "El-halcon." Haienwa'tha formed his hands into a pair of guns and made firing noises, saying, "Pow pow." Claire shook her head in confusion and Haienwa'tha sighed in exasperation. He struggled with himself for a moment before finally saying, "El-halcon, friend. Haienwa'tha, friend. Friends hurt. Need medicine."

  "Medicine?" Anna said.

  Haienwa'tha nodded quickly, "Medicine, yes. For friend."

  "I have medicine!" Anna said, holding up her medical bag. She ran past Claire toward his destrier and said, "Take me to them."

  Haienwa'tha looked at the crowd of angry-looking people and at Claire's gun, then nodded and held out his hand to her.

  "Get away from him, Anna," Claire said. "It ain't safe!"

  Anna looked back at her and said, "This is me making a stand, Claire."

  Haienwa'tha grabbed Anna's hand and yanked her up onto the back of his destrier, and with a kick in the animal's side, they were gone.

  McParlan's wrist had torn free of its bolt and was dangling at this side. Jem and Bart lifted the heavy beams out of the ground and lowered them so that the Marshal was lying flat. Bart went to look for the drill, and Jem tried to rouse McParlan. There was no response.

  Masters came back with the drill and said, "Let's get him off that thing." They worked quickly to unscrew the bolts from McParlan's wrist and ankles. Once they had him freed, they lifted the old man off of the cross and carried him over to the soft dirt. "We need water," Jem said. He looked up and saw Bug nearby, leaning over the body of his dead destrier. The boy rubbed his hands over the creature's soft black fur and squeezed his eyes shut to keep tears from spilling out of them.

  "Bug!" Jem shouted. "Hey! Quit that. I need you." The boy wiped his face and looked at Jem. Jem pointed into the ship and said, "Go in there and find me water. Understand?" He tipped his hand to his mouth like he drinking Bug jumped to his feet and took off running.

  Mahpiya arrived at the base of the trail and starting digging in his bag, sifting through the powders and roots inside of it. The medicine man's expression was grave as he kneeled beside McParlan and muttered prayers, waving his hands over the Marshal's face and heart.

  Bug returned with a bottle and Jem poured a small amount of water against McParlan's cracked lips. The old man stirred slightly.

  Mahpiya lifted McParlan's wrist and inspected the hole. He gave a sharp command to Bug, who took off running again. Mahpiya aimed a crooked finger at Jem's gun and held out his hand for it. Jem put his hand over his weapon and said, "Hell no. We'll wait and see what Anna says."

  Osceola squeezed Jem's shoulder and nodded.

  Jem reluctantly removed one of his Defeaters and handed it to Mahpiya. "Don't shoot him. I mean it. He's old and ugly and meaner than a grizzly bear, but I like the old coot."

  Mahpiya opened the gun and removed a bullet from the cylinder. He drew a long, curved knife from his belt and stuck the tip into the bullet's casing, prying until the bullet snapped open. He held the casing over McParlan's wrist and tapped until a small amount of gunpowder sprinkled into the wound there. Mahpiya did the same over the other injuries and waved for the men to stand back.

  Bug raced toward them with a flaming torch of wagon wood. Its bright light flickered and left a long trail of smoke that spiraled up toward the high rock walls above. Mahpiya took the torch and waited for Bug to go stand with the others. He lowered the torch to the hole in McParlan's wrist and ignited the gunpowder. Flames shot through the wound and out of the hole on the other side of his wrist. Mahpiya set fire to the other wounds, and stepped back.

  McParlan hollered and kicked when he realized there were flames erupting from his wrists and feet like rockets. He beat the ground until the flames went out and Jem grabbed him to hold him steady. "Help is on the way, Marshal. Just hold on."

  "No more of your help, goddamn it! At least the other sons of bitches didn't set me on fire."

  Jem carried a torch around the site, setting fire to any pieces of the creature he found. To his disgust, he saw the tiny mouths on each sucker still moved, and the severed tentacles writhed and curled up as he set them aflame. The main portion of the thing was still attached to Little Willy. Its swollen head pulsated, as if it were still clinging to life despite all of the damage inflicted on it. The bullet hole in the center had clotted with gray pus and Jem drove the flaming torch into the hole, making the creature squeal and shrivel.

  Bart Masters walked along the canyon floor kicking any remaining pieces of the thing into the wagon fire. Jem helped him carry the Customs Officers over to the fire and pitch them in. They picked up Little Willy Harpe and were about to do the same when Bug ran over, waving his hands.

  Bug bent over Little Willy's head and grabbed a handful of hair. He started to saw the scalp line with his blade. He worked until the black mass of hair came free in his hand and he held it up with a loud, Beothuk screech. He showed the others his trophy, and both Osceola and Mahpiya rai
sed their fists and returned his call.

  Bart and Jem heaved Little Willy into the flames. His body crashed into the boards and his clothing caught fire. Jem watched until his face turned black and there was no other reason to keep looking. Harpe was finished.

  A destrier worked its way down the path and Jem saw Anna Willow sitting behind Squawk. Her hands clutched the young man's waist as the animal lumbered dangerously close to the edge of the steep trail. Squawk laughed at her nervousness and brought the destrier to a stop at the bottom. She took up her medical bag and walked around the fire, but started to run when she saw Jem.

  He caught her in his arms, mid-stride. "I'm ok," he said. "I'm all right."

  Anna stepped back and collected herself. "I thought you were hurt. Who needs me?"

  Jem walked her over to where McParlan was lying on a Beothuk blanket. He described the injuries and how Mahpiya had cauterized the wounds. The Marshal looked up and said, "These fools didn't want to rescue me. They wanted to turn me into a barbeque."

  "Where's Doctor Halladay?" Anna said. She looked around the canyon and saw a body rolled up tightly inside another Beothuk blanket. "Oh God. Oh no."

  Jem held up his hand and said, "Not now. There's later for that."

  They fashioned makeshift drag sleds from pieces of metal looted from the Customs ship, one for the Marshal and one for the body of Doctor Halladay. The younger Beothuk navigated the trail carefully to get the sleds up and out of the canyon. The Marshal's complaining got louder at each bump in the road, but no one minded.

  Everyone else started up the trail on foot except Jem, who went into the Customs ship and emerged carrying a jug of fuel in each hand. He splashed fuel around the ship and covered the metal X. He soaked the ground where the rotting remains of Elijah Harpe lay. He formed a ring around the crash site with fuel until it was empty, then tossed both containers onto the ground.

  Bart Masters was waiting at the edge of the cliff with his laser in hand. He waited until Jem was high enough on the trail to throw the switch that sent the backpack rumbling to life. Bart picked a spot on the ship and squeezed the trigger, shining a red dot on the fuel lines that sparked as it cut through the steel casing.