Hell's Highwaymen

by Phillip Granath

  Jamie raised his other pistol and shot Danny through the right thigh. The boy screamed again and rolled onto his back, now sobbing in pain.

  “I swear to god, I’ll blow off your pecker with the next one. Don’t try me boy!” Jamie shouted.

  The gunfighter turned back to face Cort, “Sorry about that, you know what a handful kids can be,” he said with a grin.

  “Fuck you Jamie!” Cort hissed.

  “Come on now, after all these years we rode together? You have got to go out on something better than that my friend,” Jamie said.

  Blood was seeping from the corner of Cort’s mouth now, it ran down his chest and joined the growing pool around him. The world around him was growing steadily narrower, his vision was fading, and he knew from experience that he was dying.

  “To be honest you’re starting to look your age good buddy,” Jamie said grinning.

  The gunfighter glanced back in Danny’s direction and found the boy was on his stomach. He was trying to crawl again, but this time away from the dead priest.

  “Oh, come on!” Jamie shouted.

  The gunfighter raised his pistol to fire and then hesitated as if reconsidering for a moment. He holstered his gun and then turned back to face Cort again.

  “Hey compadre, you don’t mind if I borrow that, do you?”

  Jamie leaned forward and pulled Cort’ saber from its sheath. He held the blade up looking it over lovingly and then grinned down at the wounded man.

  “You wait right here old buddy, I got to go teach that boy some manners. Me and him are going to be spending the rest of eternity together, after all, it’s probably a good idea for me to lay down some ground rules early. You know, raise him right,” he said with a grin.

  Jamie turned and casually walked back towards the wounded boy. Danny heard him coming and tried crawling faster, dragging his wounded leg. The gunfighter wasn’t in a hurry, he was savoring the moment. He swung Cort’s blade in front of him playfully a few times for practice. Jamie sauntered past the priest’s corpse, being careful not to step in any of the dark blood splattered across the ground. Danny whimpered softly, he reached the edge of the path and now reached forward trying to slide between a pair of boulders in hopes to escape. Even now the withered souls shrunk away from him, clearly wanting nothing to do with the boy.

  Jamie stepped forward to stand over the wounded teen, the saber resting casually on his shoulder.

  “Turn around now Danny,” he said softly.

  The boy froze for a moment and then slowly rolled over to face the gunfighter.

  “Now the first thing I want to say, Danny, is that I’m not mad at you. I’m just, disappointed,” Jamie said with a grin.

  Danny rolled onto his back, the boulder behind him propping him up. He raised Cort’s heavy revolver and pointed it squarely at Jamie and the gunfighter froze.

  “Fuck you!” Danny hissed.

  “No Danny, don’t!” Cort shouted.

  The teen paused and fought the urge to look in Cort’s direction. He knew that Jamie was unbelievably fast and if he even just glanced away the gunfighter would kill him. So instead he focused on the big gun’s narrow front sight, guessing that as long as he aimed for the chest, even he couldn’t miss at this range.

  “Why not?” Danny demanded.

  He heard Cort grunt in pain, and again Danny wished he could look in his direction, but he didn’t dare.

  “Yeah, why not?” Jamie mocked.

  Danny could hear the cavalryman trying to drag himself across the ground towards him. Cort gave a wet and bloody cough before replying.

  “You can’t, not if you want to stand in front of the book Danny. You got a clean slate, a real chance to make it out of here, don’t make the same mistakes that we did Danny,” Cort said.

  Jamie laughed out loud at that.

  “Hell of a choice you got here kid. You can kill me and earn yourself an express ticket straight to hell, or you don’t and you get to watch me drain your friends here dry. Then you and me get to spend the rest of eternity together, here,” Jamie said.

  Danny’s eyes went wide, and tears began to roll down his cheeks. The barrel of Cort’s revolver started to waver slightly in his hands.

  “Cort? What do I do?” Danny whimpered

  The cavalryman was on the ground perhaps ten feet away now and laying on his stomach. He coughed violently, blood running freely out of his mouth and down his chin now. With more than a little effort, he just managed to raise his head up enough to meet Danny’s gaze. His face was pale and his eyes filled with sadness.

  “I, I don’t know Danny,” he said sadly.

  “Best decide quick son, or I’m going to decide for you,” Jamie mocked.

  Then the gunfighter’s right hand slowly started to slide down his body, creeping towards his gun.

  “Don’t move!” Danny screamed.

  “If you don’t like it, well then you had better stop me,” Jamie replied.

  A smile slowly spread across the gunfighter’s face as his hand inched closer and closer to his pistol.

  “Cort? Cort? What should I do?” Danny shrieked.

  The boy’s hands were shaking so badly now he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to shoot Jamie even if he decided to.

  “I don’t know son, I’m sorry,” Cort coughed.

  “Cort please, help me!” Danny pleaded.

  “I wish I could kid,” Cort barely managed.

  “What would you do?” the boy shouted in desperation.

  The cavalryman inhaled sharply, and for a moment the world around him seemed to slow and sharpen. He looked Danny in the eye again and laughed.

  “I’d cheat.”

  Danny caught his breath and shaking his head he slowly began to lower Cort’s gun. Jamie laughed in response.

  “It’s the smart move kid, I'd have…”

  Danny yanked the trigger, and the big gun went off in his shaking hands. Jamie was already in motion, his hand reaching for his pistol. A split second before his hand wrapped around the worn ivory grips he felt a tug on his hip, and his hand found only air. He glanced down in confusion and found that Danny had blown his Schofield right out of his holster. Jamie spun back to face the teen, Cort’s saber still gripped in his hand and ready to strike, but he found Danny already in motion. The teen tossing Cort’s revolver in a high arc over Jamie's head.

  The heavy gun flew through the air awkwardly, and Jamie turned watching it as it spun towards Cort. The gunfighter dove after it leading with the tip of the cavalryman’s saber outstretched. The gun hit Cort in the chest, and for a split second, he fought to get a grip on the big gun. A moment later Jamie rammed his own saber through his chest, just to the left of his heart and struck the ground behind him. The gunfighter’s face was just inches from Cort’s now, and Jamie screamed in triumph.

  “I’ve won, I’m in charge now. I’m going to watch you walk down that bridge and laugh when the fire takes you!” he yelled.

  Cort took a breath, perhaps his last and then managed to choke out, “You first.”

  Cort’s heavy revolver went off in between them shooting Jamie at point-blank range, the muzzle pushed tightly into the gunfighter’s stomach. Cort fired, again and again, rocking Jamie’s body with the force of each blast. The shots sending a spray of dark blood splattering over both men. The gunfighter screamed and tried to pull away, but Cort held him close and laughed as he watched the dying man struggle.

  Then the gunfighter’s eyes flashed open, he held a wild and desperate look in his eye. Jamie reached forward grabbing hold of Cort by both sides of his head. It took the dying cavalryman a moment to realize what was happening and then he felt Jamie’s pull as he tried to drain away what little remained of Cort’s life.

  Desperate the cavalryman closed his eyes, and he found himself in the water that was his life’s energy flowing around him again. But what had always been a powerful surging thing before now somehow felt shallow and sluggish. Immediately he could feel Jamie’s
pull, his life was steadily flowing away from him and making Jamie stronger with each moment. He fought back with all the will he could muster, for a moment the flow slowed but still didn’t stop. Then a fresh bolt of pain shot through his body as Jamie pounded a fist against his shattered shoulder, Cort cried out in pain, and his concentration faltered. The flow started again, now stronger as Jamie’s pull intensified and the last of life started to slip away.

  “Noooooo,” Cort cried out.

  The cavalryman opened his eyes in desperation, and Jamie’s bloody grin met his gaze. All around them the withered corpses watched, their dead faces a mix of fascination and horror, Danny’s presence forcing each to remember their own final struggles it seemed. Then Cort realized that a lone figure now stood behind the gunfighter. It was another soul, but as the others had pulled away in fear this one had stepped forward. Cort wouldn’t have recognized the desiccated corpse at all if it hadn’t been for his faded blue suit.

  The corpse that had been Jerry slid a pair of withered hands around Jamie’s neck, and immediately Jamie began to scream. Cort closed his eyes again and found that Jamie’s attack had stalled, distracted by Jerry’s unexpected arrival. Seizing his moment, Cort gritted his teeth and mustering his will started to pull back against him. Almost immediately life began to flow back into Cort’s body and like a drowning man able to finally take a deep breath he felt renewed. Jamie was struggling against him now, not the steady, unrelenting force as before, but a frantic and flailing thing. But Jamie was a fighter and refused to give up as his will struggled against both men at the same time.

  Cort finally had enough and decided it was time to take a cue from Jamie’s playbook. He opened his eyes again, he found Jamie’s bloody face quickly withering away by the moment and the color and vitality returning to Jerry. Cort grinned and raising his now empty revolver, smashed it down into Jamie’s bloody face, again and again. A split second later he felt it, the moment when Jamie’s will actually broke and the last of his life flowed from Jamie’s body. At that moment Jerry leaned forward pulling the gunfighter close to him and whispered.

  “You can go to hell now Jamie.”

  The gunfighter’s mouth twisted as if to reply but at that moment, everything that had been Jamie was gone. Jerry let go of the shriveled corpse and let it fall to the side. Then as if following Jerry’s orders, it began to stir again and rose to its feet. Jerry took a step back, and the withered corpse that had been Jamie staggered past him. It shuffled its way forward past the circle of watching souls and out onto the bridge. Jerry turned and looked down at the wounded cavalryman.

  “Damn, I’m glad to see you greenhorn,” Cort said grinning.

  “It’s good to be seen again,” he replied.

  Jerry looked back following Jamie’s slow but persistent march down the length of the bridge. Jerry pointed a thumb after him.

  “Where is he going?” Jerry asked.

  “Just watch,” Cort replied.

  The corpse that had been the gunfighter Jamie Preston reached the end of the broken bridge. It stood there motionless for a long moment. Then a chorus of screams slowly rose in volume and intensity, it peaked as a wave of liquid fire washed over Jamie and carried him away. Jerry’s mouth and eyes went wide in surprise.

  “Shit, did you see that…,” he began.

  Then Jerry glanced down and realized Cort’s saber was still protruding from the man’s chest. Draining Jamie’s life had healed most of the wounds, but blood still trickled down the length of the blade.

  “Oh damn, I’m sorry, here let me!” he said.

  Jerry reached forward about to grab ahold of the hilt and Cort slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t touch it you idiot! Go get Danny and bring him here,” Cort shouted.

  “Right, yeah sorry,” he replied.

  Jerry found the boy nearby. Danny had crawled over and now held Father Callahan’s body in his arms. Jerry was about to interject when the boy touched the priest’s skin, and the dead man began to stir. The priest awakened startled and immediately reached for wounds that were no longer there.

  “What? Jerry?” he began, “where is Jamie?”

  “Well as luck would have it I happened to be close by,” Jerry replied.

  “It’s not luck, God has a plan for us all,” the priest said.

  “Well his plan for Jamie included taking a dip in a lake of fire it seems,” Jerry said with a grin.

  Jerry nodded and then looking down at Danny his eyes fell upon the needle still protruding from his arm.

  “He even has plans for former Junkies it seems,” Jerry added.

  Danny looked down at the needle himself and just shrugged.

  “I guess so,” he said.

  “Come on, Cort was asking for you.”

  A few moments later Jerry and Father Callahan were holding Cort down while Danny pulled the saber from his chest. Then the boy touched the cavalryman’s skin, and Cort cursed loudly as the wound shrank and then finally disappeared.

  “That’s a neat trick,” Jerry pointed out.

  “It is, it’s also one of the things that make him so dangerous here,” Cort said.

  The cavalryman got back to his feet and wiping his own blood from the blade slid the saber back into its sheath. He glanced around at the waiting crowd of souls and then down at the bridge and the stone that sat at its end.

  “It’s time Danny,” Cort said.

  “I know it is,” the boy replied.

  Danny looked around at the three men and slowly nodded.

  “I, I don’t even know what to say,” the boy said.

  “I guess, thank you,” he offered.

  “There is no need,” Father Callahan replied.

  “You take care of yourself now son,” Cort said.

  “Will I ever see you again?” he asked.

  Cort and the priest shared a glance and Cort replied, “Maybe, someday. If heaven is half of what they say it is and if we can get in. Then I reckon so.”

  “You can, you will,” Danny replied.

  With that, the boy nodded and then reluctantly turned and stepped out onto the bridge. The lake’s reaction was sudden and violent. Massive waves began bound and smash against the battered stone, like fiery hands reaching out for the boy, but the bridge held firm, and the heat didn’t touch him. Danny reached the end of the bridge and stood before the piece of dark slate. The words cut into the stone looked ancient and meant nothing to the boy. Then as he watched they suddenly began to shift and move. A half a dozen oddly shaped letters across the stone suddenly flared to life as if written if light. They shifted and came together at the center of the stone, and the rest of the script simply faded away. Danny couldn’t read this strange new word that was spelled out in light, but somehow, he knew what it meant. It was something far deeper than just a name, it was who he was, body and soul. Then In a flash of white light, Danny was gone.

  “Holy fuck, did you see that!” Jerry blurted.

  Cort just shook his head, “I’ll be damned,” he said.

  The three men stood there for a moment in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

  “Well Padre, you going to give it a go?” Cort asked.

  The priest paused for a brief moment before shaking his head.

  “No,” he said. “I’m going to stay here a bit longer I think. I have to go back and read those letters my father wrote to me. I owe him that much at least. Besides, I have a flock here to look after don’t forget.”

  Cort nodded and turned to Jerry.

  “I guess that means it’s your turn,” he said.

  “My turn?” Jerry repeated.

  The priest opened his mouth to speak, but Cort was the one to reply.

  “I’ve been here a while, a hell of a lot longer than was ever intended. I’ve seen plenty of bad men come through here, hell I'm a bad man Jerry. But that's my point, you ain't. I’m sure you’ve done some things you aren’t proud of. They probably have something to do with the papers you ca
rry around in your little case there. I’m telling you that it doesn’t matter. If there is a god and I think after watching Danny’s exits just now that it’s kind of hard to be arguing anything but, then I think he has to be understanding, and I think that he is fair. I don’t see how anyone like that could deny you.”

  Father Callahan looked at Jerry and simply nodded.

  “Go home,” he said.

  Not entirely sure of himself Jerry turned and reluctantly began to walk towards the bridge. He reached the edge of the worn stones and hesitated.

  “Home,” he repeated quietly.

  Then a moment later added, “Rachel.”

  Somewhere behind him, he heard Cort shout, “Just walk out there, you idiot!”

  Then Jerry closed his eyes and he wasn’t standing in purgatory awaiting judgment anymore, he was back in college, sitting in a gymnasium.

  His best friend and roommate, Marty sat next to him, his nose stuck deeply in a Calculus book.

  “What?” a much younger Jerry asked.

  “I said, stop being an idiot and just walk out there,” Marty repeated.

  Jerry looked up, and it was all coming back to him now. Marty and he use to spend their hour between Philosophy and Calculous sitting in the bleachers in the gym. They did so under the guise of studying, but in actuality, they did it because it happened to coincide with volleyball practice. Jerry watched now as the two dozen college girls took a water break. They milled about together in little groups, drinking from plastic bottles and talking incessantly, all but one.

  One girl stood out, she sat alone on the side of the court. She was sitting in the furthest chair at the end of the row, and everything about her spoke of loneliness. Even her body was turned away from the other girls. Her head was down, and though her hair was tied back in a ponytail, it still managed to hang down and cover her face. As he watched her then he saw the slight shake in her shoulders, she was crying and trying to hide it. Looking over now Jerry realized he wasn’t the only one that had noticed it. Occasionally one or two of the other volleyball players would turn away from their conversations long enough to glance in her direction. They knew she was crying, they knew she was upset, and they didn’t care.