by Jim Heskett
“What in the stars have you done?” said the redheaded man. He separated from the other guy, both of them wide-eyed in surprise. They stumbled toward her.
Malina didn’t stop to answer the question. Pistol in hand, she turned and ran, not in any particular direction. After a few steps, she corrected her course and pivoted back down the street she’d come. Her head swiveled around, and she caught sight of the two drunken men, trying to get their feet under them to run after her.
Within a few more steps, she reached a furniture store and she cut right to pass it. She ducked between that and the next building, escaping down the alleyway.
The two men pursuing ran past the alley, not bothering to look down it to check for her. She listened to their steps and haggard breaths growing smaller and smaller as they continued on the wrong path.
“What is wrong with me?” she asked no one in particular, her voice meeker and thinner than ever. Tainted by tears that ran down into her mouth as she fled the alley. Salty.
As her pulse boomed in her ears and the wind whistled past her running frame, Malina could only think of getting back to the inn. Getting back to Tenney and her friends. And thinking that she had somehow maybe not actually done this terrible, terrible thing that would ruin everything for all four of them.
1 Puta: prostitute
2 Mariposa: butterfly
Chapter Twenty-One
Yorick woke to the sound of the trapdoor closing. He sat upright and then hunted around for his pistol. Gone. “Rosia,” he hissed. “Wake up. Something’s wrong.”
The single light bulb in the room flicked on, and there was Malina, panting, tears streaming down her face. She stood at the far end of the room, one hand on the cord for the light, the other holding Yorick’s pistol. More like a ghost than a person.
“Malina?” Rosia asked as she stirred from her bed. “What are you doing?”
The pale girl shook her head. “I messed up. Really messed up. I don’t know what happened. I was there, and they were bothering me, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“Did you shoot someone?” Yorick asked, although he already knew the answer. He could see the spots of blood on her shirt.
Malina nodded, and Yorick leaned forward and put his head in his hands. No matter what they tried, failure and complications seemed to hover over them like clouds poised to rain.
Malina swayed on her feet, and Rosia waved her forward. They sat on her cot. Rosia held her as the former farm serf cried, shaking all over. Rosia and Yorick’s eyes met, and he could read the expression on Rosia’s face. She was thinking the exact same thing.
Malina let the pistol clatter to the floor, and Yorick snatched it up before the thing could accidentally go off and kill one of them.
“I wanted to get my backpack,” Malina said. “There’s a bandanna in it we could use for ice. For him. I went for a walk to find it.”
“We can find other bandannas,” Yorick said. “You didn’t need to hike back out of town to get yours.”
“I know,” Malina said. “I know. It's all so confusing. I just wanted to do something. Something for him, instead of sitting here and waiting to see what happens. I wanted to be the one to help him.”
Rosia rubbed a hand on Malina’s back. Yorick could see the strain in Rosia’s jaw, but she was doing an admirable job of staying calm. “It’s okay, Mal. It’s done now, so we’ll deal with it. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”
“Who did you shoot?” Yorick asked. “One of the White Flames?”
“No, it was some puta.”
“Did anyone see you?”
Malina nodded. “I had to run away.”
Yorick watched his girlfriend comfort Malina, and he didn’t know what to say. The day before, Malina had encouraged him to get Rosia and leave without them. Maybe he should have taken that advice when he’d had the opportunity.
He bit his lip and breathed. That had been a terrible thing to think. Clearly, he couldn’t abandon Tenney, and Malina was incapable of thinking logically on her own. She was too upset about the prospect of him getting worse. Her brain had devolved into full panic mode.
They had killed a local. Everything would change now.
Yorick stood and strolled around the room, running his hands through his hair. Too much was happening. He didn’t know how to deal with it all. Everyone looked to him to make decisions, but he didn’t want to make any. He wanted the right path to present itself, like a beam of sun coming through clouds after rain.
But, real life wasn’t like that. There was no one to drop an opportunity in his lap. No one to magically show him the right way out of all this. No one in authority to tell him what to do.
Across the room, Tenney murmured, which broke Malina and Rosia’s embrace. They both left the bed to join Tenney at his side. The big guy’s eyes opened for the first time since yesterday.
“How do you feel?” Rosia said.
“Like I ate two dinners, and the food wants to bust out of my stomach,” he said. His voice was gravelly and thick, likely due to the pain medication the doctor had given him. “Where are we?”
“Rock Springs,” Yorick said as he crossed the room to join them. “But I don’t think we’re staying long.”
Tenney cleared his throat, like the sound of a truck with a bad battery trying to start. “I’m ready to go.”
Yorick grinned. “I’m sure you are.”
The big man didn’t look ready to go. He looked like he could fall back asleep at any moment. He looked like he wouldn’t be able to stand on two feet for more than ten seconds.
Yorick collected his pants from the floor and slid them on.
“Where are you going?” Rosia asked.
“I should make sure there’s not a mob outside looking for us. I don’t know if I trust that woman running this place to keep our secret. There has to be a better way.”
Malina dipped her head, and Tenney looked at her with a quizzical expression. She didn’t open her mouth to explain what had already happened this morning.
Yorick reclaimed his pistol and climbed up the ladder to the ground floor. Before he left, Rosia nodded at him, and that gave him a little boost of confidence.
Nothing immediately stood out to him as problematic when he emerged from the trapdoor. No shouts drifting down the hallway.
Yorick left the laundry area with a hand on the pistol in his waistband. He opened the door leading to the hallway that ended in the lobby. Heart pumping, hands sweaty. He didn't hear anything strange as he crept down the hall. But, he kept his eyes open and his ears attuned for danger.
Out into the lobby, everything looked normal. If Malina had shot someone, there didn't seem to be a general uproar about it.
Maybe Malina had invented the whole story. Exactly how distraught was she?
Yorick crossed the room and peered out the window. There were a few pedestrians milling about the streets, going to work and doing their shopping, minding their own business. But there were a couple of locals who caught Yorick's eye. Two men, one with a thick mustache, both with pistols in their hands. They were drunk and staggering, but clearly on the hunt. Everyone they encountered gave them a wide berth. They were speaking, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying. And he didn’t think it would be smart to venture close enough to hear.
Yorick didn't know what to think of this. He turned to scurry back to the basement room since he wanted to avoid being seen, if possible.
The innkeeper was standing behind her desk, and she lifted a hand to catch his attention. "Excuse me," she said.
Yorick approached her. “Yes?”
"I've been thinking," the innkeeper said in a mild voice. "I think you should leave."
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
"Where will we go? Our friend is injured, and we can't move him. Not for another few days. The doctor said.”
The innkeeper shook her head, her face pulled into a frown. “Again, I’m sorry, but that's n
ot my problem. I heard the gunshot. I saw that young woman running back in here with a pistol in her hand. You four are more trouble than you're worth, and I want you gone. You can stay the day, but then you need to leave. Whatever it is you need to do to get ready, you better do it fast, because I’m not letting you ruin my business.”
Yorick felt a hefty weight press down on his shoulders. It wasn’t likely some other hotel or inn would take them. Not if the word about them had gotten out.
“I think your business is ruining itself just fine on its own,” he said, waving a hand toward the empty lobby. He wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to be snarky, but it didn’t matter. He turned, dejected, and began to skulk back toward the hallway to tell his companions of their fate.
But then, someone sitting in the inn’s bar caught his eye. A man seated at a table, knife and fork in hand, eating from a plate of eggs and sausage. The man lifted a hand and gestured with the fork to beckon Yorick closer.
Yorick obliged. He stood before the man in the bar and asked, "what?" It hadn't been the most cordial greeting, but Yorick's patience had evaporated. A strong desire to punch someone vibrated through his veins.
The eating man grinned. "Having a rough go of it lately, huh?”
"You have no idea."
"I hear you have some gold to spend."
Yorick wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. "Tell me how that’s any of your business?”
The man nodded as he took a sip of his water. "I understand leaving town is a matter of urgency. And that you have an injured friend. I can appreciate how tricky this must be for you.” When he saw Yorick's expression, the man smiled. "There are few secrets in this town, outsider. But, I can make you an offer. Tomorrow, there is a bus leaving for Cheyenne. If you can find a way to get your injured friend on that bus, he can lay down in the seats in the back. It will be a smooth ride, I promise. A few hours on the road, and you can find a proper hospital for him down south.”
"And this will cost me?"
The man nodded. "It will. But you can't spend any gold if you’re dead because a lynch mob has hanged you by your neck in front of city hall. Think on that.”
A fair argument. "Okay. What do we need to do to make this happen?”
"Meet me at the eastern edge of town tomorrow at eight. The bus will be waiting. You'll know where to go because of the tall building with the clock on it. You can see it halfway across town.”
The man dug into his breakfast again, and Yorick turned, shuffling away from the bar. This seemed like a good opportunity. But could they move Tenney?
"Don't be late," the man called after him.
Yorick balled his fists as he entered the hallway. This might work.
Chapter Twenty-Two
They spent the rest of the day in their basement room, watching and waiting for Tenney to get better. He did, a little at a time, but not as quickly as Yorick would've liked.
The next morning, when Yorick awoke, he realized they had only three days left until the tunnel crossing into Colorado would be closed. Possibly forever.
Were the walls between Wyoming and Colorado as tall as the walls of the plantación? Did they have armed snipers patrolling? He couldn’t hold out hope there would be another way around.
If this journey did not lead them to the town of Harmony to find his parents, then everything so far had been pointless. All the pain and sacrifice.
Within a few minutes, the rest of them had risen. Malina snuggled in Tenney’s cot, them whispering to each other. He did seem better, less fever, a little more mobility. But, to reach the bus, they might have to run. Hopefully not, but due to not venturing outside since yesterday, there was no telling what the outside world held for them.
Rosia slid into Yorick’s cot, and he scooted to the edge to make room for her. They were used to sleeping next to each other, but those tiny cots weren’t spacious enough. They stared into each other’s sleepy eyes and Yorick stroked her hair.
“Good morning, mi amor,” she whispered.
“I don’t know if we can do this,” he whispered back. “Making it to the bus. Everyone in this town wants to kill us, and if we walk out of this building, we’re exposed.”
She took his head in her hands and offered him a smile that he almost believed. “We can do it. You can do it. I believe in you, and so do they.”
“I appreciate that. Only the stars know why you’re sticking by me, but it means everything to me.”
“It’s because you’re so cute,” she said, and kissed him.
“That’s what I thought.” He stroked the side of her face and smiled, because he was usually the one offering emotional support. Nice to get it in return. “It’s time to go meet the bus.”
Across the room, Malina helped Tenney up. He grunted, wincing. After shifting into a seated position, he appeared winded and weary. He spent a few seconds breathing, spreading his arms out for stability. The situation didn’t look promising.
“Do you think you can get along?” Rosia asked Tenney. “If you can’t, we can work something out.”
“If I can’t,” Tenney said, panting, “you need to leave me behind.”
Yorick shook his head. “We’re not going to do that. We all ride out of this town together.”
Tenney stood and let go of Malina’s hand, holding his arms out for balance. He took a step, letting out a small moan, but keeping his face even. The big guy woofed a thunderous sigh. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go. We’re running out of time.”
Despite his show of bravery, Malina still had to help him across the room. Yorick and Rosia gathered everyone’s belongings and packed. They were ready to say goodbye to their little subterranean safe house. Their quasi-cell for the last couple of days.
Getting Tenney up the ladder proved to be the hardest part. Rosia and Malina went up first, then leaned down into the trapdoor to pull from the top. Then Tenney went up, and Yorick went right after, to keep pushing the big man up the rungs. In a way, getting him down here had been easier. He’d been like a hunk of meat then, suspended from ropes.
Once they were all at the top, Yorick and Rosia armed themselves and moved to the front of the group. They opted not to offer a pistol to Malina. While she clearly had no trouble pulling the trigger, the girl didn’t have the best judgment. Her severe mood shifts between morose silence and seething anger weren’t helping to paint a picture of her as someone responsible enough to carry a gun.
They left the laundry room and pushed through the hallway. Yorick checked a wooden clock hanging there. 7:45. They had fifteen minutes to make it to the building with the big clock. Should be a ten-minute walk, so they were cutting it a little close. But, they didn’t want to arrive too early and give the townspeople a chance to notice them and start a fight. If the timing worked out, they would arrive and take off within a minute or two.
When Yorick and Rosia stepped out into the lobby of the inn, his jaw dropped. In the lobby, the innkeeper stood there, paralyzed, a knife against her throat. Three men stood around her. Three of the road people, judging by their yellow and brown clothes.
And, to Yorick’s horror, he realized he knew them. They were three of the four White Flames he’d seen in the car way back at the plane wreck, and then again firing at them on their way into town.
These three had shot Tenney. And Xevon. But where was the fourth? Where was the woman with the deep red hair. Before Yorick could consider answers to that question, one of the bandits tensed the knife against the innkeeper's throat.
“I think we found them,” said the one with spiky hair.
“Good,” said another one. “You can get rid of this woman.”
The innkeeper opened her mouth to protest, but he slashed her throat, sending a gush of blood down her neck. Just like slicing across a raw hunk of beef. One second, whole, the next, a deep gash from side to side.
She made a gurgling sound and then stepped back, her hands rushing to her throat. The realization seemed to come to her in stages. She f
lailed around, making droplets of blood whip around her. The three thugs spread out, covering their faces to stop the flying blood from coloring them red.
Within five seconds, the innkeeper fell to her knees, dead, or near enough to it.
Malina screamed.
The three White Flames eyed them like animals ready to devour helpless prey. The one with the knife—and a big mohawk—grinned. He pointed the knife in Malina’s direction. They were five meters away, too far to strike by hand.
“And there you are,” said the mohawk man. “You must be the pale girl who killed Angel, my favorite piece of entertainment in this town. If Angel’s gone, you owe me. Everyone’s looking for you, but I want my due first.”
Angel. The puta Malina had shot, no doubt. For a moment, Yorick had hoped they might leave the basement and find that the whole Malina situation had blown over. That no one would stand in their way.
But, of course, Yorick had known it wouldn’t be like that. Now, he knew firsthand the consequences of entering a town as outsiders and disrupting their lives. In Pinedale, they’d done it moments before speeding away. Here, they had to face it.
In unison, all three of the White Flames advanced in their direction.
“Yorick,” Tenney said, his throat full of phlegm.
Rosia and Yorick raised their pistols. Two of the bandits tried to raise rifles, but Yorick was too fast. A bullet struck the mohawk man in the chest, and he staggered a step to his right, bumping into the other two. But they didn’t stop advancing.
Yorick and Rosia blasted a few more shots, knocking all three of the White Flames to the ground. Without much fanfare, they all ceased their attack. Two of them died outright, and the third tried to push himself to his feet. After one failed attempt, he went prone and stopped moving.
The blasts from the guns had filled the inn’s lobby, and when they stopped, the silence felt almost as loud.
The innkeeper was on the floor, a circle of red around her. Eyes unfixed, staring at the wall. The poor woman. She hadn’t asked for any of this.