Clive draws first and fires three shots. Two hit Henry Dugan’s head and the third goes through his neck. Dugan stands there in a dazed state and collapses to the ground. Slightly still alert he goes to draw his gun. As he begins to draw his gun, Dugan’s head is blown off by a shotgun fired by a towns person.
“Agh! Now that wasn’t fair,” Javier yells. Javier takes out his gun and fires a shot at Clive, hitting him in the shoulder. Clive falls. Emerson goes to stop Javier but Helmsfeld gets in between them.
“Mr. Halloway looks fine. It’s merely a slight wound. I shall tend to him. Gentleman, I do say it’s time for the final showdown,” Helmsfeld says.
Javier and Emerson take the pistols used by Clive and Dugan during their duel, Emerson from Clive and Javier’s from Dugan. They then walk up to each other face to face once again. “Do we really gotta use these pistols? I am much more comfortable using my .45 on boy sheriff wannabe here. This here is one good solid American tool, fits just right in my hand and does just what I need it to.” Javier says. “All standard duels require the right pistols Mr. Jones, rules are rules I’m sure even you can respect that hm?” Helmsfeld says back Jones grunts before speaking, “yeah..I suppose, as long as I can still fire just as fast as I can with a normal pistol.”
“Very good then men, into your positions you go” Helmsfeld says.
“Thirty meters out, turn and first to shoot… Well, you know the routine,” Helmsfeld says again. They slowly walk back in their opposite directions. They then turn around and face each other from afar. Emerson, with a squint in his eye and sweat dripping down his forehead, steadily lowers his arm. He twiddles his fingers, getting ready to draw at any given moment. Javier does the same. He takes off his hat, wipes the sweat from his head, puts his hat back on, scratches his beard and then slowly lowers his arm. He steadies it, still waiting to draw his gun.
While it appears they both draw at the same time, it is Emerson who draws first despite Javier’s ability. He fires two shots into Javier Jones, piercing into his chest hard. Jones himself gets off a shot but it grazes past Emerson. Jones falls to his knees, holding his chest as he slowly bleeds out.
“Son of a bitch!” Javier screams in pain. He looks over at Helmsfeld. “I thought I could draw faster than anyone! I thought I couldn’t die! You tricked me again you bastard!”
“No Mr. Jones, I believe you misunderstood once again. Your abilities were only temporary to the moment the war ended,” Helmsfeld says.
“Abilities?” Emerson says.
“Yes, Mr. Shaw. I gave Mr. Jones here an elixir.”
“Yeah and you tricked me,” Javier says, wincing in pain. “No Mr. Jones. You once again took your abilities for granted and foolishly wasted them.”
“I’ll say,” Emerson says. “He spent half the war hiding behind his men.”
“You no good rotten...”Javier says to
Helmsfeld. “Ah, temper, temper Mr. Jones. I gave you your powers as we agreed and gave you all you wanted in exchange for your soul.”
“I thought I couldn’t be hurt!” Javier says. “Again Mr. Jones, you misunderstood. Your soul is for my own personal gain and I never once told you that you could not die.”
Javier yells loudly, “All a game…all one big fuckin game to you! Just who in the hell are you anyway huh? You’re no peddler…no...I should’ve known. Oh my, I should’ve known.” Mr. Helmsfeld grins evilly and laughs before winking at Javier. “A game? Not at all. On the contrary, you gave me your soul, Mr. Jones. I think that alone should tell you exactly who I am. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other places to be,” Helmsfeld says as his wagon and horse appear out of nowhere.
Jones tries to go for his gun to shoot Helmsfeld but is too weak and unable. Helmsfeld walks to his wagon and climbs up onto his horse.
“Mr. Shaw, I give you my condolences for your late father.”
“You knew my father?” Emerson asks him. “No, but I came here saying I was in search of him only to come across Mr. Javier “Bones” Jones. He was my true reason for coming here. Mr. Jones told me of your father’s passing and while I knew not of him, I tell you this. His killer was in town at one point.”
Emerson looks at him with shock, awe and anger in his eyes. “What? You know who killed him? How do you know all this?!”
Mr. Helmsfeld merely laughs. “Ah Mr. Shaw, you’re quite like your enemy here. You’re so inquisitive but I shall tell you like I told him. I am a mysterious man and if you heard what I told Mr. Jones here then you know who I am and that is how I know.”
“Farewell gentlemen,” Mr. Helmsfeld says as he rides out of town and disappears into a cloudy white mist. Jones now lays dying on the ground with blood slowly pouring out of him. The towns people, along with Emerson and Clive, stand over Javier Jones.
“It’s over Jones. We can finally live in peace without you taking over and running us into the ground.”
Javier, with his final breath of air, speaks to them. “It…can’t end…this…way. It won’t...I was supposed to make this town... what I envisioned. Gah...I’ll see you in…hell.” His wounds prove too much and his blood loss is too great as with his last ounce of strength, rips off his necklace of bones and they fall out of his hand. Javier’s eyes slowly roll to the back of his head.
It is then that sounds are heard coming from up the hill. The undead soldiers start making their way back down the hill. Emerson and the townspeople getting ready to draw thinking they must once again fight but this would prove not to be the case. Only about a dozen or so come into town. All of them with their dead gaunt looks and blood on them somewhere on their bodies.
They circle Javier’s corpse and pause for a moment.
They soon get closer to him and pick him up and carry his body back up the hill. Javier apparently still not dead moans out in pain. ”Huh? What’s going on? Where
are..you..taking..me..uhh” They stop halfway up the hill and then begin ripping apart and chewing on Javier. “Oh god no...ahhh...Javier screams in terror as the men rip him limb from limb and just start to chow down and eat him.
The screams soon stop and the men now even more of a mess then they were before, with more fresh blood on them and dripping from their mouths make their way back into the cemetery and into the mist to which they came. They bring little remains of Javier with them while the rest of what’s left of him lay on the ground.
“Well it looks like we are back to cleaning up the town again but at least it’s not in the hands of him.” Everyone exclaims in cheer, only to look over at the display of thousands of dead bodies all over the town. As Emerson makes his way to some of the bodies, he notices the place where Alonzo Boone’s body was is now gone.
“Hey, did someone move Boone’s body?” he asks. “Nope, everyone is where they got gunned down. We’ve had no time to move em until now.” Emerson looks on with a bewildered look on his face before his expression turns to a startling realization.
Back in Edgeville, Juan Jones is tending to his horse when he is approached. “Ah, you’re back. Good god you look like hell. What happened?”
“Your brother and his men shot me,” the man says. “Had to make it look convincing. I laid there for what felt like forever. When everyone was back to battling and no one noticed, I took off and hid. Before I left town, I saw your brother get killed by Emerson Shaw.”
“Ah…I had a feeling this would happen,” Juan says. “Well that’s why I sent you out there to see if my brother would fail, which he did. But when it’s time, you go back into Toomswood and avenge my brother’s death.
You’ll kill Emerson like you killed his father. But look at you! You look like you’ve gotten a whole round of bullets in ya. How in the hell are you still alive?” Alonzo Boone just looks at him and smiles. “Your brother wasn’t the only one who made a deal with the devil.”
About the Author
Justin Bienvenue is also the author of The Macabre Masterpiece: Poems of Horror and Gore, his first written work. While poet
ry is one of his main true passions he also enjoys writing narratives, short stories and stories such as this one. With no topic or genre out of his range it is only but a wonder of what he may write next. He lives in Massachusetts.
A Bloody Bloody Mess In The Wild Wild West Page 9