The Cowboy of Pinnacle City

by Ferraro, Bretton

  “Really?” Jon asked.

  “Oh yeah. He’ll be the death of us all. Here….” Marcus rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a card. “If you need to give your boss something to keep you from being dead, give him this.” He handed the card to Jon.

  “And what’s this?”

  “The address to this building.”

  Jon looked puzzled, and couldn’t think of anything to say. He just stood there and stared at Marcus.

  “Oh, don’t worry. It will be useless by the time they send their soldier boys out after us, but it should keep them from killing you. At least for another day or two anyway.”

  “Thanks.” Jon wasn’t quite sure if he should have said thanks or just handed the card back to Marcus and took his chances with Greenwald. Then something came to Jon’s mind that he felt he should share with his dweller friend. “Premiere Lawrence will be here, in the city, at any time. Greenwald is trying to rid the streets of you and the revolution underground you have going on.”

  “Is that right?” Marcus said with a smile. “Now that is some useful information right there, my friend.”

  Jon held up the card Marcus had given him, “consider it a vague favor for a vague favor.”

  “See? I knew from the moment I saw you that you were different, my friend. Now let’s go put you in the back of a cruiser so we can get you back to your bleak existence.” Marcus had a nice big smile across his face.

  “When you put it like that, I can’t wait to get back to my living quarters.”

  Speak of the devil. A cruiser pulled up and was awaiting its soon to be passenger, Jon.

  “By the looks of this evening,” Marcus spoke, “we’re going to start making some changes around this city. After all, it’s a bit dingy for my taste.”

  Jon was uneasy with the thought of an actual revolution breaking out on the streets. Instead of blood and control it would mean blood and chaos. Which was worse was a man’s preference. Jon patted Marcus on the shoulder as a friendly gesture while he kept his mouth quiet and climbed into the back of the cruiser. Shockingly, nobody bound his hands together, nor did they cover his face in a ski mask. He was sitting upright and was able to see everything that passed by. He didn’t know these streets at all. He could only tell that he was on the south end of the city. The Outband must not have been far from where they were. Jon tried his best to gather his bearings but he knew he would not be able to find his way back to the exact spot he was in, and according to Marcus the “soldier boys” would get there quickly, so there seemed to be no point to remember, but at least he would have something for Greenwald. Or at least he would have something to keep Everett in his cage. Greenwald was undoubtedly intimidating, but Everett made him look like a rookie. Greenwald was out for order. Everett was out for blood.

  Jon lost himself in thought on the strangely relaxing car ride back to the city. He couldn’t be in a worse position as a citizen of Pinnacle City, but in this moment, it didn’t seem to faze him. There was a bizarre calm in the air. To top off the strange atmosphere, the cruiser stopped right in front of Jon’s building. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for the first act of kindness he had experienced in a week, or if he should be frightened that anybody with any power knew exactly where to find him. Jon nodded to the officer staring back at him from the front seat and removed himself from the vehicle.

  It was morning now – again. It was a particularly cold morning. It was as though the seasons skipped the remainder of fall and went straight into winter. Jon shoved his hands into his pockets, pulled his jacket as close to his face as it would allow him to and headed for the back stairwell in the ally.

  He quickly opened the door leading to the stairs and darted inside to get out of the cold. The building wasn’t much warmer than the temperature outside, but still, it was warmer. Then Jon nearly fell to the floor as he had to catch himself. This was the last thing in the world he would have even imagined. There she was. Sinda. Sitting at the bottom of the step on the bottom of the stairwell just sitting and waiting – for him.

  “Hey,” she said to him.

  As excited as Jon was, fear overtook his thoughts quickly. Who knew she was here? Who knew they were together again? If anybody knew, this was the death of them, their literal death. Sinda could see the panic overtaking Jon. She raised her left arm into the air and pulled her sleeve down. She had the same armband as Jon.

  “How did you…” he stopped in the middle of his sentence.

  “You’re not the only one who can find a way into the circles of the revolution underground in this city,” she replied with a smile.

  There were a million and one implications with the answer she just gave Jon, and he didn’t care one single bit. He went to join her on the bottom step. They embraced for a moment, and then they kissed.

  12

  THE NEW ROUTINE

  That big, ugly poster was flapping in the early morning breeze, slapping against the building on which it was hung. Those faces, those colors, they were the worst. It was just the reminder Jon needed. There was no escape. Wherever he went, the party was there. This time it was in big, bold poster form.

  “It’s beautiful,” Sinda broke the silence.

  Jon looked at her like the devil had just rolled out of her mouth and vomited itself onto the cheap carpet floor. The shock was obvious to Sinda. Jon didn’t have to bother continuing his stupefying stuttering attempt at getting a question out.

  “Up until this last night my quarters were on the other side of that thing. I had the pleasure of listening to it smash into the side of the building for years, but never really getting to see it like this.”

  Jon heard what she said, but it didn’t register. She had been living behind that poster for years? All this time he could have been looking right at her and never have known it.

  Jon looked at her, “How did you end up in the party like this?”

  She paused and hesitated but then began to answer the question and explained to Jon how she got to where she was. Boys had a unique role in the life of the city. If there were low-level openings to be filled in the ranks of the party, it was the boys that filled them. If it was a job that required strength and endurance, only men were allowed to work them. Women were rare in the professions of Pinnacle City. The party usually reserved the pretty ones for their propaganda purposes – that worked quite well. Sinda had a choice she needed to make. She was stuck at the group housing project with almost no options on how to get out. Her choices were to stay and hope for the best, hope that one day somebody could use her pretty face for something – and pray that it wasn’t to be the next ugly brute’s picked-out-of-a-catalog bride. Or she could run. Run and hope that she was capable of surviving outside of the system. Or she could become the system. It gave you steady work, steady resources and a place to live. She was able to find an entry into the party that afforded the simple opportunity to sit around and read books that nobody else in the city even knew existed – a librarian. It was a tremendous blessing.

  “Then I met you, and all of that changed,” she said with a quivery voice. She even looked to the ground and saw the copy of Cowboys that Jon had mistakenly walked out with.

  Jon knew exactly what that meant. If it weren’t for his wondering in to the library that night she would still have her cozy situation, without having to worry about where her food would come from.

  Sinda took Jon by the hand and sat down on the bed.

  “You know what? I wouldn’t change any of it. We have each other because of it.”

  Jon replied, “Well, we have each other until we get caught, and either of us gets dead.”

  She leaned over to grab the book. She picked it up off the floor and brought it back into her lap.

  “So, this is the book you stole, huh?”

  Jon was embarrassed as she smiled devilishly. “It was an accident. I didn’t even know I had it with me, or I would have never taken it.”

  Sinda just nodded in the yes motion as
to imply that she believed him. Then she opened the book and started working her way toward Jon’s cardboard bookmark. Jon couldn’t help but watch. She seemed more intrigued at this point than he ever did. She found the page, pulled the cardboard out and tossed it across the room. All while having a giant smile across her face.

  “Okay, Sinda.” Jon spoke “Go ahead and read it. You can read to me from where I left off.”

  Sinda seemed to have accepted that invitation. They leaned themselves up against the wall while sitting on the bed, and then Sinda began to read.

  Alone and in the wilderness, Johnny had some problems he needed to figure out how to solve, and fast. He had a missing wife, a missing child and a home that had been burned down to the ground. There was a gang of crooked lawmen after him, and there was nobody in the town he knew well enough to trust. Johnny was alone up here in the cold mountains, but what he did mattered. Either he was going to bring down the corrupt mayor and his company and get his family back, or he was going to die trying.

  But could he justify death just to save himself? How could he expose the mayor and the sheriff for the crooks they are? Johnny had lived in this town his entire life and wasn’t about to let it be overtaken by crooks with badges.

  “Johnny boy!” came shouting voice somewhere in the distance.

  Johnny immediately jumped for cover and got out of sight. He peeked his head out of his cover to see if he had been spotted. He couldn’t see anybody. All he could hear was the wind rustling through the trees and grass. Maybe he was just hearing things. He had been up there for a day now. They would undoubtedly be looking for him but Johnny couldn’t see anybody.

  “Johnny boy! We’ve got your wife and your child!” came the voice again.

  It was distant. It was faint, but this time Johnny knew he had heard it. It was like a bullet just ripped through his heart. Why were they doing this? What did he do to justify this type of response? How was he going to get out of this? He was alone in the mountains, armed only with a loaded pistol.

  He heard the voice again, but this time it was too far away to make out the words. They were definitely looking for him, but seemed to be going the wrong direction.

  Johnny, feeling his nerves wearing off, looked down at the ground and saw an old piece of paper sticking up out of the dirt. He pulled it out and brushed it off. It was a poem.

  The wicked are many

  The few are the good

  In this world, it is well understood

  The good must stand tall

  ‘Cause the wicked are short

  The will of the wicked the good must thwart

  The pariah of many

  The righteous to few

  Stand up to the crowd only the good can do

  It was too perfect to leave up to chance. Johnny was meant to stumble onto this poem. He was supposed to be here on this mountain. This was a terrible burden but he was meant to bare it. If this was God’s will, then it would be so. These men had to be stopped. Their corruption was in the sheriff’s office and went all the way to the mayor’s office. Somewhere in this nightmare scenario his wife and child were being held against their will.

  Johnny had to act. He had to act fast. This was the moment, here, alone. He had to do something.

  So, he ran.

  He ran straight towards the voices that were calling for him. He ran to them like he knew exactly where he would find them. Over boulders he jumped and down the hills he sprinted. The voices cried out again, and they were getting closer – and closer. He kept running until he felt that he was near them. In fact, he was right on top of them. He had run down a hill that ended in a sudden drop. At the bottom were two of the sheriff’s men, calling out Johnny’s name.

  Johnny flirted with jumping right on top of one of them and catching them by surprise. His nerves were running high again. The cliff was not high enough to kill him, but it was high enough to get hurt. If this was his moment of action, it was a leap of faith.

  Johnny only hesitated for a second. Then he jumped.

  He took one of the henchmen right off his horse. He disarmed the man. Then he jumped to his feet and ripped the other one off his horse before he had a chance to figure out what was happening. The second man he knocked unconscious. Then he pointed the gun at the first man he had just jumped on top of seconds before. The man was scurrying around the ground trying to find his weapon – and his bearings. Johnny put his boot up to his throat and cocked the hammer of the gun back.

  “Here I am,” Johnny said to the henchman before knocking him out cold.

  Some time had passed. Both of the henchmen started to come to. They shook their heads as they looked around to find out what had happened. There was Johnny, standing right over both of them. They struggled to move before discovering they had been tied to a tree. They yelled and panicked as Johnny turned his back on them and began to walk away.

  “You ain’t gonna leave us here all tied up, are ya?!” they shouted.

  Johnny turned around and came back to them. He took out one of their guns he had confiscated, emptied the chamber into his pocket and threw the gun in front of them.

  “If you manage to escape you can use this to clobber anything that might want to eat you.” Then Johnny turned his back and walked away, indifferent to their demands to set them free.

  “That’s the end of the chapter,” came Sinda’s voice.

  Jon had been half asleep during most of it. He was half living what she was reading to him in his dream and half thinking about it while he was listening to her. In the story, it wasn’t a coincidence that Johnny had found the poem in the dirt. It certainly was no coincidence that Jon had been forced into the position he found himself in, and it certainly was no coincidence that he, like Johnny, had found words on paper that were meant to inspire him to act. He came upon this book for a reason. Maybe it was to meet Sinda. Maybe it was supposed to lead to something more. Jon had never had the opportunity to read such a raw story of imagination before. It sucked him in and made him think. There was a deeper meaning in those words, on those pages. Jon felt a little envious of Johnny’s situation because it seemed clear. He had to stand against the corruption in his town because his life, and the life of his family, was on the line.

  Jon’s situation was not so clear. Was he supposed to give into the mob? Or was he supposed to give into the mafia? Which one would he make his stand against?

  He wanted none of the above. Why stand with a band of street thugs that fuel themselves on nothing but rage? Why would he stand with a party that desires nothing but power, at any cost? Why rally behind the band of dwellers that wanted to burn it all to the ground and build nothing in its place? Why rally behind a party who would have them all killed just so they could keep their position?

  “Good morning citizens of Pinnacle City,” that shrieking familiar sentence with its accompanying blonde had just turned itself on in Jon’s home, with Sinda at his side. There she was, the symbol of the party in power. Standing right in Jon’s living quarters. “I’m here today, on behalf of the Capital, to wish you a prosperous day full of progress and production. If you would all kindly stand and take your place in front of your audio processors, we will begin with the party creed.” Jon did not miss this part of the morning routine. In fact, this quick trip back to reality made him appreciate the last few days, despite how awful they had been. At least he got to go places he had never been and meet people he never would have. He saw things that he had only heard rumors about, and now he was on both sides of what seemed to be a brewing coupe in both the dweller camp and inside the party itself.

  “The future is distant. The past is past. Here in the present, we will outlast,” came the usual muttering of the party’s rhetorical nonsense that neither Sinda nor Jon repeated. “Thank you all, you may take a seat as I finish your morning information update.” Sinda and Jon had never gotten up.

  “The weather looks bleak this week as we near the winter months. The temperature is going to drop
so don’t forget your jackets as you leave for work.” The brunette droned on about the weather for another minute before getting to the business end of the broadcast.

  “The grid system will be subject to random changes indefinitely. If navigating the grid is a requirement to get you to and from work, please consider public transportation for those of you with a license to operate a vehicle.” Something was wrong. They’ve never made an announcement like that. They always changed the labyrinth, but it was never without warning. This was an announcement that they would be doing it randomly, and your only hope of getting through the city was getting on board a computer-operated shuttle.

  “Premiere Lawrence is scheduled to visit Pinnacle City to deliver a speech on behalf of the nation. Don’t be surprised if you see an abnormal amount of Enforcement Personnel patrols or even military vehicles on the grid.”

  They were cracking down on the little rebellion that was brewing on the streets. This was not just security measures to ensure a safe trip for the party leader. It was a rebellion boiling over into a revolution, and they were going to capture or kill anybody involved. If Lawrence was coming, it was to clamp down on the chaos and not inspire anybody to do good.

  “Please be sure to be mindful of all statutes, codes and laws. Have a productive day, and be well. Thank you, citizens of Pinnacle City.”

  “What do you think?” Sinda asked Jon.

  Jon looked down at his left arm, the one with the band that was given to him by his dweller friends. “I think there is trouble coming, and quick.” Jon stood up and headed over to the kitchen area. “Would you like a little breakfast?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. I would hate to take your food supply from you.”

  Jon smiled, “I’m not bragging, but I think I can get a bit more if I need to. And if not, oh well.”

  “In that case, sure. What are you making me?” she asked.