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

by Bernard Schaffer

  He grabbed Winnie and threw her to the ground behind him, even as she screamed and cursed and struggled to get back up. He pinned her with his knees as she sawed the leather tether. A second bullet struck Buttercup in the neck, spraying them with her hot blood. She scrambled furiously on the ground, digging trenches with her hooves and knees, until finally Halladay cut the line and she took off running.

  Halladay drew both his guns and fired them uselessly in the direction he'd seen the glass flash, knowing it was too far away to hit anything, but hoping it bought them enough time to escape. He picked Winnie up and shoved her up the steps, toward the Dalewood's front door. "Get inside!" he shouted.

  Another rifle shot made the Dalewood's front door frame burst apart, raining wooden splinters on Winnie as she dove through the front door. Halladay heard a fourth shot and turned to see Buttercup stumble as she ran, landing face first on the ground and skidding. In the distance, Halladay saw two figures get up from behind an overturned cart. One of them carried a rifle, taller than himself.

  Buttercup cried out, but managed to push herself up from the dirt and get back on her feet, wobbling as she tried to take off running. Her legs wavered and she collapsed again, a mighty titan falling to the ground, never to rise again. Halladay realized she hadn't been running away. She'd been running at the shooter.

  They were over a hundred yards away, cloaked by the shimmer of heat blanketing the landscape, but still near enough that Halladay could hear Johnny Starr shout, "Shoot that goddamn nag in the head before she tramples us!"

  Mr. Pine raised his rifle and leveled it at Buttercup, about to squeeze the trigger, when Halladay fired a volley of rounds at them from both of his guns, holding them both out in front with stiff-arms. He didn't bother to aim. He didn't run. He fired, cocked the hammer, fired, cocked the hammer, getting close enough to make the dirt explode around Starr and Pine's feet.

  "Shoot him!" Starr ordered.

  Mr. Pine crouched down and tried to aim, but Halladay kept firing, making both of them dance backwards to get away from the shots. Buttercup was only a few feet ahead of him now, the smell of her blood strong in the air. He fired until both of his guns clicked. He was empty and there was no sight of the men now. Halladay tossed both his guns behind her back and stood over her with his arms extended and hands empty like some kind of statue of a religious martyr. A performer about to do a trick.

  Mr. Pine crouched down to balance the long rifle, the sun's reflection making the glass on his scope twinkle like a star. He wrapped his finger gently around the iron trigger, taking his time to line the scope's crosshairs on Halladay's pale, sweat soaked forehead. The crazy old bastard suddenly looked directly at him through the scope and smiled.

  Mr. Pine took a deep breath and held it, making sure to pull the trigger nice and slow. He stared through the scope even as the blood-spitter whipped a pistol out from behind his back with impossible speed. The gun fired before the back of Halladay's long black-coat flapped, cracking the scope's glass with one perfectly centered bullet.

  The round spiraled the length of the scope and splattered Mr. Pine's eye, boring a hole through his brain and leaving nothing but a smoking black hole in its wake.

  Halladay dove behind Buttercup and pressed himself against her. The beast was still breathing, but her gurgling and strain sounded even worse than his own. "Not yet, darling," he said. "I refuse to let these bastards finish us, on principle." He fished fresh bullets out of his coat pocket and popped the cylinders on his pistols to eject the spent casings. His fingers were shaking so much from adrenaline it was hard to get them to fit. "Johnny Starr!" he shouted up at the sky. "How's your friend? I heard he was having trouble with his vision."

  No response. Damn, Halladay thought. He could be anywhere. He steadied himself and tried to breathe, getting the bullets into their chambers. One gun loaded. He cocked the hammer back and looked side to side. Nothing.

  Buttercup was panting now and her blood saturated the ground, turning the murky gray dirt dark crimson. "That's a good girl. You're fine," Halladay whispered. He reached over and scratched inside her mane. "I'm right here." The second gun was loaded. He holstered it and tucked the third pistol behind his back, slowly lifting his head to peek over Buttercup's side. "I heard you two were dangerous men, Johnny Starr. Crack shots. How come neither one of you could even kill a three thousand pound destrier?" he shouted.

  "Keep running your mouth, blood-spitter," Starr finally shouted back. He was far enough away that Halladay could not see him. "You tell that whore of yours that this ain't over. I'm gonna make slitting her throat look like a walk in the damn park after I get done."

  Halladay needed time to catch his breath. "You know what I always say, Johnny? Why put off till tomorrow who you can kill today?" Halladay shouted. He got to his feet with both guns raised and walked toward the nearest overturned cart. "Stick your head out, Johnny. Just an inch." He fired at the corner, trying to make Starr come out of hiding. Halladay peeked his head around the back of the cart and moved to the next one. "Come on. There's no need to hide. Let's talk this over. We can be real close friends."

  There was a barrel farther ahead and Halladay fired at it, shattering the rotted wooden frame. He came to Mr. Pine's corpse and picked up his large sniper rifle. The scope was shattered, but it didn't matter. Halladay aimed it at a rusted combine over fifty feet away and fired, shattering the vehicle's windows. He lowered the weapon and stood still, listening and watching for any signs of movement. Without the rifle, Starr was too far away to be any threat. In fact, Halladay reasoned, his best plan would be to hole up and wait for me to come looking for him.

  He turned back, only to see Winnie come around the rear of the Dalewood and lift her hands to her mouth at the sight of Buttercup lying in a heap. The destrier's legs swam in the air, like she was running sideways up an invisible hill and her head stretched out as far as it could, her animal brain trying to make sense of the searing agony in her neck from the bullet wound. Winnie staggered and nearly sank to the ground but managed to keep coming forward, moving toward Buttercup in mute horror.

  She collapsed on the ground in front of the destrier and ran her hands along the bloody fur. She opened her mouth to speak but garbled noises came out, her words not making sense because what she was seeing could not be reconciled. Halladay kneeled down next to her and said, "She saved our lives."

  Winnie's face streamed with tears and she lowered to kiss Buttercup's jaw. When she touched the bullet hole on the animal's neck, it reared up and squealed.

  Halladay put his hand on Winnie's shoulder and said, "She's in pain, darling." He pulled out one of his pistols and said, "I want you to hold her head and look her in the eyes. Can you do that?"

  "No," Winnie gasped, "Please, no, no, no."

  He stroked her hair and pulled her head toward his face to kiss her on top of the head. "You hold her now. Look at her the whole time. This is what she wants."

  Buttercup's large brown eyes were wider than saucers, turned toward Winnie and nothing else. Winnie stroked her nose and cheeks and whispered over and over that she was a good girl, the best girl and don't be afraid, when Halladay lifted Buttercup's left foreleg and fired a round directly into the beast's heart.

  8. Beside You In Time

  The bartender lined up another series of four whiskey shots and Halladay resisted the urge to reach for the nearest glass. Instead, he tapped Winnie on the shoulder and said, "Come on, time to drink again."

  "Piss off," she muttered into her arm. Her head was down and her face was buried on the bar, probably to hide the thick black streaks of makeup streaming from her eyes. "Leave me alone."

  "Now, now," he said gently, "I understand you are upset, but our good friend Lady Alcohol is going to help you numb the pain."

  "I said I don't want any."

  Halladay picked up the nearest shot glass and held it next to Winnie's head. He tried to lift her chin slightly and said, "Take your medicine like a good little g
irl, Edwina."

  She hissed like a feral animal and came up swinging at him, screaming, "Get off of me you stupid old bastard!"

  The glass flew out of Halladay's hand toward the back of the bar, shattering to pieces. The bartender spun on them, but Halladay held up his hand and said, "Accident, my friend. It slipped."

  Winnie grunted and slurred, "Here. This what you wanted to see?" She picked up each of the glasses and quickly downed them in succession, slamming each empty glass back down on the bar when she finished. "There. Happy? Now you can take me upstairs and do whatever disgusting thing you've had planned since the beginning, right? Come on, old man. I'll spread my legs for anybody else, so why not you?"

  She tried to pull him from the barstool, but Halladay yanked his hand back and said, "Darling, I know you are upset, so let us raise another glass to the memory of Buttercup and decide how we are next going to proceed."

  "Oh, that's right," Winnie whispered. "I forgot. The high-and-mighty Doc Halladay doesn't truck with whores. He's too busy pining over his dead wife!"

  Halladay grabbed her by the arm and snarled, "That is enough. Shut your mouth and contain yourself."

  "Make me," Winnie giggled.

  He let go of her and turned away, "You are a ridiculous child."

  "What's the matter, gunslinger? You scared of a little thing like me?" She pressed herself against him and leaned close to his ear, "You know you want me. You held me the other night in the desert and I felt things stir in your pants that probably ain't seen the light of day in five years. You're the one who's scared, old man. Not me."

  Halladay pushed away from her and stood up to fix his hat on his head. "I am done with this evening's festivities, and I am done with you," he said. He threw a handful of coins on the bar and glared at Winnie, "In the morning, you will think back on all that you have said and done this evening with great regret, and you will come to find me and beg forgiveness, but I will be long gone and it will be too late."

  Winnie smacked the bar with her hand and spat with laughter. Halladay turned to leave when Winnie said, "Like I need some drunken old blood-spitter anyway."

  It seemed like the clock was afraid to tick as he stood there with the entire bar's complement now staring at him, measuring his response. He raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "Useless. Worthless. Cheap. Degraded. Abandoned. Unloved. Unwanted. Whore." He tilted his hat at them and headed for the door, not bothering to look back.

  Everyone's eyes were on her like sunlamps and when the bartender didn't divert his stare once she lifted her head, she shouted, "The hell are you looking at?" She picked up one of the coins from the bar and hurled it at him, "Move! Get me another drink!"

  Someone slid into the seat next to her and Winnie whipped around, expecting to see Doc, thinking he'd returned to apologize. Instead it was Mr. Millner, hands resting calmly on the bar, staring at her. "Hello, Winnie."

  She rolled her eyes and turned away from him. "Go to hell."

  "I doubt that, because I live a clean life," he said. She caught him looking her up and down, eyes sliding over like a reptile's tail. "I never once indulged in the sort of things that go in these kinds of places. There were times, I confess, when I thought about coming over here and paying just to get the chance to teach you a lesson about humility. You see, that was always your problem. Amongst your many sins, none damns you more swiftly than your pride."

  Winnie ignored him and held out her hands for the bartender to slide her drink to her. "I'm not the only one with too much pride, Mr. Millner."

  "Even now, you're arguing," he sighed. "Here I am trying to offer you some guidance like a lifeline that stretches from the meadows of salvation into the pits of hell, and you're too stubborn to see it. Maybe that's why Abe wants you gone."

  "What did you say?"

  "Told us so himself. Told his whole congregation. He said he'd worked his whole life trying to undo the stain of sin you'd cast over him and having you here was like having to live with the reminder of it every day. We had more than a few people leave the church since you showed up with that gunslinger. You understand what I'm saying? Best thing for everybody is for you to just roll up on out of here quietly. Folks love your brother enough to look past it, long as you do as I say."

  Winnie laughed sharply and downed her liquor in one swallow. "I doubt that."

  Mr. Millner shook his head, "I figured there was at least enough sisterly love in your heart left to do this for him. Mother disagreed, of course. That's why she says at least he has us as his real family."

  Winnie grabbed him by the front of his shirt and twisted it in her hand, snarling into his face, "Don't you ever say that again or I swear to God I'll cut your balls off."

  Mr. Millner smiled at her and said, "I don’t fear demons, girl, why in hell would I have fear of you?"

  "Tell you what," Winnie said. "Let's go see Abe together. If he tells me to leave on his own, I'll be gone as quick as you can look at me."

  "I was afraid you'd say that," Mr. Millner said. "Winnie, let me beg you not to do that. Spare yourself the discomfort and anguish. Take my advice, and just go."

  Winnie sneered at him, "You're bluffing, and I'm gonna call it right now. I'm ready when you are."

  "All right," Mr. Millner sighed. "Have it your way. He's over at the church."

  "Fine," she said.

  "Fine."

  Winnie shoved her small stack of coins forward as an offering to the bartender and picked up her coat. "I can't wait to see the look on your face when he don't follow along with your brainwashing," she said.

  Mr. Millner held open the door for her and said, "Last chance." She walked right past without bothering to wait for him to get completely out of the way.

  They didn't speak during the brisk walk through Seneca 5's dusty and quiet streets. They passed abandoned homes that nobody had bothered to board up and rusted farming equipment long ago stripped of anything worth taking. The severian deposits in the immediate vicinity were shallow and difficult to mine, and most of the union workers quit the place once Seneca 6 was founded. Now it was a haven for independent contractors and adventure seekers who burrowed in the dirt in search of glittering stones.

  The town itself seemed to exist in spite of severian mining. Buildings like the hospital, that brought money in from all over. Buildings like her brother's church. Winnie looked up at the church's tall white steeple, framed by the crimson sun as it descended and left the sky awash in hues of purple and rose-colored gold. Her jaw tightened and her back stiffened and she did her best to appear more confident than she felt.

  Winnie didn't wait for Mr. Millner to open the door for her. She pushed it open with her palm, ready to do battle with the first thing that stood between her and Abe. Abe stood on the pulpit, hands folded in front of his waist, waiting for her. Mrs. Millner was at his side, and Abe didn’t smile or wave as she walked in and came up the aisle toward him. He didn't do anything except stand there and look weary.

  "I tried," Mr. Millner called out from behind her. "I really did try."

  "I knew she wouldn't listen," Mrs. Millner responded.

  "Enough!" Winnie shouted. "That's enough from both of you! I came here to talk to my brother and both of you are gonna keep your traps shut until I do." She stopped at the bottom of the pulpit and looked up at her brother. He was tall and handsome and had a head full of bright blonde hair that made him look like a catalogue model, but she could still see the little boy in him. "Abe? Is it true you want me to leave?"

  He looked at her for a long time without speaking. His eyes and lips twitched several times like his thoughts were assembling at various parts of his face and travelling to meet up with the others. Winnie's heart broke to see him so conflicted and she opened her arms to him and said, "Come down here, honey. You don't have to say anything. Let's get the heck out of here."

  "No!" Abe's voice echoed in the church like condemnation. His face suddenly twisted into a look of revulsion, "I won't go any
where with you."

  "It's okay, son," Mrs. Millner said gently. She reached behind him and rubbed his back, making Winnie's eyes steam up with anger.

  "I want you to leave here and never come back," Abe said.

  "That's not true," Winnie said. "Don't you see these people are just filling your head up with lies about me, Abe. I love you. I've always loved you. I'm your family!"

  "Not anymore. Now it's time for you to go."

  "How can you say that?" Winnie gasped. She clutched her chest like he'd punched her in the heart and felt her knees buckle, about to fall down, when Mr. Millner caught her by the arms and held her steady.

  "I tried to tell you, Winnie," Mr. Millner said. "I tried to spare you all this."

  She looked up at Abe and said, "I'm not going anywhere! I'm going to stay right here in this shithole little town and come here every stinkin' day until you listen to me."

  Mrs. Millner stepped in front of Abe and said, "I don't think so, dearie. In fact, you're going to leave right now."

  "Why don't you come down here and make me?" Winnie hissed.

  A pair of boots clunked along the wooden stage behind the pulpit's altar and the man who came out through the curtains looked down at Winnie and smiled. "I think I can help with that," Johnny Starr said.

  Mr. Millner clenched his arms around Winnie and held her, even as she swung her arms and struggled furiously to get away. "What the hell have you done?" Winnie cried. "This maniac will kill us all!"

  "I hardly think so," Mrs. Millner said. "In fact, Mr. Starr very graciously offered to escort you to the nearest transport and make sure you are taken somewhere very nice and very far away."

  "Indeed I did," Starr said.

  "It's for your own good, Winnie," Abe said. "You don't belong here. Go somewhere where nobody knows you and start over."