“It was… I was being sarcastic. Come on, let’s get back to the bar, I’ve got customers.”
Dominic held a hand up as Rudy tried to push past.
“Hey now, don’t be putting your hands on me, stranger!”
“Answer my question, where would I take you?”
“I don’t know where you’d take me. Now take your fucking hand off me, I’m leaving.” His previous demeanor, the calm and well mannered bartender, was nowhere to be found.
Dominic got nose-to-nose with him, his hands resting calmly at his sides. “Perhaps I’d take you to Karaville.”
Rudy stumbled back, catching himself against one of the barrels. “Karaville?”
“Yeah, you know Karaville, charming little settlement, southwest of here? They attract a fair amount of visitors. They’ve got a tree, green as can be, sprouting right up out of the ground. It’s really a sight to behold. It gives you hope, you know, seeing that little bit of green in the middle of all that brown and gray. I hear the mayor’s daughter is a fetching sight as well.” Dominic paused and held up a finger, as if remembering an important piece of information. “But wait, you already know that, don’t you? I mean, that’s why you raped her and tried to bury her outside the fence line, right? Except, the ground was too hard and you were too dumb to try to find another spot, so you left her there and ran.”
“Now hold on a minute—”
“She turned you down, didn’t she, Rudy? A fat bumbling piece of shit like yourself, you just couldn’t take it. Was she nice to you? Was that it? Made you think you had a shot with her?”
“You don’t know what the —”
“You're right, I don't know. What I do know, is that you're coming with me. We’re going to walk out of here, real quiet like.”
Rudy’s knuckles crackled like brittle leaves as he wrapped one fist up inside a chubby palm. “You want me? You’re going to have to make a hell of a racket getting me.”
Dominic pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. See, I’m not too keen on fighting, especially with a burly boy like you. So,” Dominic reached inside of the duster and retrieved the black pistol with the suppressor, “I brought this.”
Rudy’s cheeks went from punch red to paper white. His hands slowly unfurled. “Hey now, you’re not allowed to have that inside Genesis.”
“And yet, I do.”
“How’d you even get that past the front—”
“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is the fully loaded magazine and the fact that, if you don’t walk out peacefully, I’m going to empty every single bullet into your face. The contract on you says dead or alive. Make the call?”
“You’re bluffing.”
“No, Rudy, I’m not. If I’m anything, I’m a man of my word.”
His shoulders sank as he emitted a sigh of defeat. He approached Dominic with upturned palms.
Dominic grabbed Rudy by the collar and shoved him back through the steel door. He kept a firm grip on him. His other hand kept the pistol concealed just inside his duster, the barrel pressed against Rudy’s lower back.
“Come on man, not so rough,” Rudy hissed over his shoulder.
“Shut up and keep moving. You’re not any safer in here than you were back there, so don’t get stupid.” Dominic steered him around beer soaked tables and overturned chairs, through lusty whispers and drunken stammers.
“Hey… Rudy… I need ya to fill me up. Where ya goin’?”
“Be back in a second. Feel free to help yourself,” he called back.
He was actually going to pull this one off. “Smart, almost there, just keep it moving.”
The doorway to salvation darkened. The light streaming across the cement floor extinguished and the crowd went silent.
“Oh, you’re screwed now,” Rudy said, renewed hope flooding his voice. “It’s the Lord Marshal. Man, you’re in the shit. Better just let me go.”
“You’ll be the first one to catch a bullet. Remember the gun, Rudy, remember the gun.” Dominic released Rudy’s collar, but kept the pistol at his back.
The hulking figure in the doorway stepped forward into the dimly lit bar, his face sliding through shadows: a pockmarked cheek, a silver mane of hair, deep set eyes. He was tall, much taller than Dominic; a human pillar supporting the weight of the room. He wore khaki pants and a tan shirt that hugged his muscular form. He was backed up by a small contingent of men. All wearing puffy leather jackets, dark brown berets, and carrying sub-machine guns strapped across the front of their chests. They moved in sync, staying two steps back from the Lord Marshal, their eyes locked forward, their features hard lines of granite, patiently awaiting his command.
“I come in for a drink and here you are, running out the front door. If I were a more sensitive man, I think I’d be a bit bruised by your untimely exit.” The Lord Marshal reached into his pocket and returned with a cigarette. He set it delicately between his lips and snapped his fingers. The soldier over his left shoulder made haste with a light, toasting the end of the smoke as the Lord Marshal sucked eagerly. “You know,” the Lord Marshal removed the cigarette from his lips and suppressed a small cough with the back of his hand, “you shouldn’t leave the coffers unmanned during business hours.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We were just,” Rudy looked back nervously over his shoulder, “going to take a break, take in the view on the Sky Bridge.”
The Lord Marshal nodded as if it were a perfectly acceptable explanation. “Of course, the dawning of the twilight hours; I can hardly blame you. Who is your new friend? His face is unfamiliar.”
“He’s an Outlander; he’s got family here.”
“My name is Dominic,” he sniffed and stared past the Lord Marshal. He counted the paces to the exit, then he counted the bodies standing between him and that exit; he had more than enough ammunition to go around.
“Dominic," the Lord Marshal rolled the name around on his tongue like a fine wine, “I don’t believe that I know a Dominic. Lieutenant Bates, do I know a Dominic?”
The soldier over his left shoulder shook his head. “No sir, I don’t believe that you do.”
“Splendid, well then, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Dominic. I’m Lord Marshal Van-Hause. But you may refer to me as Hause. God knows, it’s easier on the palette, and we’ve no need for pageantry here in the Towers.”
“Well, alright then.” If he could just get a hold of one of those machine guns he’d really be set, he could carve a path straight to the lobby.
“So, what is it you do, Dominic?”
“A little bit of this and a little bit of that.”
“Well, I’d imagine that there’s a lot of this and that that needs doing in the Outland, get a little more specific with me,” Hause’s voice was firm. He wasn’t asking for answers, he was calmly demanding them.
Dominic sighed. “I bounce around doing odd jobs. Fixing and tinkering. I don’t keep a bed or a roof; it’s all inn’s and elbow grease.”
“So you’re a handy man?”
“Guess you could say that.”
“Boys, we’ve got a traveling handy man in our presence.” The contingent of soldiers didn’t react, they didn’t move a muscle, their eyes remained straight ahead, and their grips remained firm about their weapons. “Maybe you can show our man Ricky a thing or two. The bastard can barely replace a ceiling tile. I only keep him on because his Daddy jumped on a grenade for me during the war. I figure the least I can do is make sure his boy earns an honest wage.”
“Sounds like a pretty square deal.”
“No, Dominic, it’s not a square deal. Did you not hear what I just said? His dad jumped on a fucking grenade for me. The blast powdered his spine. Can you put a price tag on that?”
“No, Hause, I suppose I can’t.”
“Damn right you can’t.” Hause made popping noises with his lips as his eyes jumped back and forth between Dominic and Rudy, deciding on his next target. “So, Rudy, you never told me you had
any friends. How is it that you two know each other?” Hause took another drag off his dwindling cigarette and expelled two columns of thick smoke from his nostrils.
“He just came in, needed someone to show him around… we were gonna take in the Sky Bridge and then I was gonna show him over to the apartment blocks.”
“He’s been a big help to me,” Dominic confirmed, without hesitation.
Hause clasped his hands together dramatically. “So, it was fate?”
“Something like that, yeah,” Dominic said.
“Well, who am I to stand in the way of fate?” Hause let the cigarette fall. It sparked against the ground right before the heel of his boot stamped it into submission. “But I must insist that you put your field trip on hold. I’m parched, as are my men.”
“Yes sir, I was just going to take him—”
“You’ve got a full house, my boy. You’ve got empty glasses and no one to fill them.” Hause looked around the room as if realizing, for the first time, that all eyes were on him and his men. “There’s nothing to see here people, get back to your business.” The engine of drunken murmuring slowly revved its way back through the gears. “So, you see, I can’t let you leave.”
“Sir, let me just take him up and I’ll be back down in two shakes.” Rudy was starting to lose his composure. His voice creaked like an old house.
“Rudy, I’m not asking you, as your Lord Marshal, I’m ordering you!” Hause caught his temper by the coattails and forced an unconvincing smile. “It’s the Sky Bridge. It’s not going anywhere.”
“Actually, Hause, I’ve got myself a pretty tight schedule.” Dominic crooked his neck and met Hause’s eyes with the iciest gaze he could pull together, given the situation. They were walking that tight rope, that little space that divided the calm and the storm. Dominic had been there before. He knew the feeling well, the moment right before the guns were raised. Rudy wouldn’t make much of a shield, not against the artillery Hause’s men were packing. Those high caliber rounds would strip the meat from his bones in a matter of seconds. The tables wouldn’t do much good either. They were thin circles of scrap wood. The rounds would eat straight on through. There was the bar, thick and sturdy. But then there was all that glass to contend with. It’d shred him up nice and quick. He’d have to get back through the steel door, back inside Rudy’s distillery. He could make a stand there.
“Well, you’ll have to forgive my line of questioning, Outlander, but what schedule could you possibly be speaking of? The sun is setting; it’s far too late for you to be leaving the shelter of the Towers. The Sky Bridge, as I stated, isn’t going anywhere. I’m sure your uncle is willing to wait just a bit longer for your arrival. So, do tell me, where is it you’re so eager to be?” It was a challenge, a verbal chest bump; Dominic felt the prodding in each syllable.
Beads of sweat began forming on the palm of his gun hand, the adrenaline of ensuing confrontation. “I’d rather not get into details.”
“Tough shit!” Hause barked. “You’re going to divulge details! I’m your Lord Marshal! I’m asking questions and you’re going to provide answers!”
Dominic didn’t flinch. “I’m not from the Towers. You’re just another guy with a gun where I’m standing.”
Hause exhaled slowly, pursing his lips. “Your Outlander friend seems to have left his brains in the sand dunes. Listen, Dominic, I’m not sure which rock you’ve been living under for the past few decades, but there was a war, we won it. So, Towers or no Towers, I am your Lord Marshal.”
Rudy held up a pair of rattling hands. “Listen, he just… he doesn’t know how it works around here, alright. Give him a break.”
Dominic almost felt bad for the guy… almost.
Hause nodded. “Yeah, I’ll give him a break, just not sure what kind yet. Pour us a drink Rudy. You,” Hause hissed, pointing a finger at Dominic’s forehead, “sit your ass down on one of those stools and have a drink with me.”
Dominic sucked at his teeth and shook his head. “I’ve drank my fill for the day. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
Hause gave a short chuckle and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You are something, Outlander. I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist. Boys, sit his ass down at the bar.”
The soldiers at Hause’s back moved in quick.
Dominic moved quicker.
He shoved Rudy into their arms and fired three shots into his back.
Dead or alive. Looks like it’ll have to be dead.
The soldiers stutter stopped and raised their machine guns as Dominic rolled across the table at his back. The patrons around the table scattered as Dominic toppled it sideways, glasses of beer and whiskey crashed to the floor. The bullets ripped into the wood and tore it to pieces around his head. He scrambled up to his feet and retreated towards the bar. He slipped and slid towards his target, blind firing to cover his ass. He slammed into the bar at full speed and rolled up and over to the other side as high caliber rounds mangled the liquor shelf above his head. Shattered glass and dislodged whiskey poured down on top of him. The firing squad drummed away on the other side of the room as he crawled across the floor on his hands and knees. He could hear the patrons screaming as they fled the battlefield.
He was almost to the edge of the bar.
Almost to the steel door.
Just a few more feet.
There was a muzzle waiting for him at the corner of the bar counter. He saw it as he was about to break cover. He reached and grabbed and pulled. The rifle was strapped across the soldier’s chest; the force took him straight to the ground. The soldier reached and clawed, desperate to correct his mistake. It was no use. Dominic already had his pistol planted against the man’s throat. He squeezed the trigger and blew the back of his neck out.
Dominic rolled from cover and dragged the sagging body on top of his own, back to chest. He gripped the machine gun in both hands and used the corpse to stabilize his fire. The men that had been lying in wait scattered, tripping across tables and chairs as Dominic strafed the room with gun fire. Hause ducked down by the front door, his pistol out of its holster, watching the commotion with a look of excitement as bullets embedded themselves just above his head.
When the magazine clicked empty, Dominic let the weapon slide from his grasp and began pushing backwards on the floor with his heels, using the dead soldier’s body to shield against the incoming volleys of gunfire. Bullets splashed into the corpse, blood flew into the air in great spurts, like crimson oceans smashing against a rocky shoreline; the waves came down and splashed across Dominic's face, blinding him. The salty liquid invaded his mouth, his nose, and oozed into his ears. He frantically wiped it away as he continued pushing backwards under the storm of lead. The top of his head hit the door and he felt it give way. He pushed harder, slithering back, further and further, holding on tight to his disintegrating shield. When he had the upper half of his torso inside the distillery he let go of the soldier’s body and rolled backwards into cover, letting the door swing shut as bullets crunched into the metal and blew the porthole out, sprinkling the floor with glass. He crawled towards the barrels of whiskey, stood, and began pulling them from the shelf. His breathing was labored and his heart pounded in his ears as he dropped down behind the tottering whiskey barrels.
He checked the magazine on the pistol.
Eight rounds left.
He'd been there before. Outmanned and outgunned. He should've died a thousand times over. He'd prepared himself for the moment. That's the one advantage he had over the men he faced. Most of them hadn't shaken hands with the reaper.
The last of the gunfire died and he could hear the expended brass shuffling against the floor as the soldiers closed on his position. They weren’t the stealthy type. They moved like migrating oxen, heavy and determined. Dominic pushed up and took a knee behind the barrel, resting his gun across the wooden lid, setting his sights on the door, waiting for the first head to emerge from the swinging barrier.
�
�Dominic, my friend, you alive in there?” Hause’s voice sounded alarmingly close.
“I’m still kicking.”
“Those are some pretty fancy moves you’ve got. You’re about the handiest handy man I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s how I keep the customers coming back.” Dominic wiped a line of sweat from his brow and readjusted his elbows; his arms were starting to tingle.
“So, tell me something Outlander, where’d you get your training?”
“Not sure what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean.”
Dominic switched knees. “Are we going to do this or not?”
“Do what?” Hause sounded mystified. “We’re just talking.”
“No, you’re biding time while you get your men set up to overrun my position. I’m one man, what are you worried about? Let’s get it done.”
“You’re a soldier, aren’t you? I can tell.”
“Right now I’m a guy with a loaded gun and his back against a wall.”
“You’ve got that ice flowing through your veins, that emptiness behind your eyes. You’re not holding on to anything because you’ve seen how quickly it can all be stripped away. Yeah, you’re a soldier.”
Dominic thought he could see a shadow moving under the door, he removed the slack from the trigger as he readjusted his aim. “Uh-huh, anything else?”
“You fought in the war, didn’t you, with the rebels? You weren’t one of my boys, that is for damn sure.”
There was shuffling on the other side of the wall to his left.
Glass crunching.
Bottles being pushed off shelves.
He kept his eyes on the door. One way in. One way out.
“So who’d Rudy piss off?”
Dominic knew Hause was biding his time. Making sure all of the cards were in his possession before he made his play. “He got my drink order wrong. I’m particular about my whiskey.”
“So, you’re contracting out? Plying your trade? I wish you’d have come to me. I’ve got plenty of work for a man with your skill set.”
“I’m not really partial to those uniforms.”
The Fall of Man: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 1 Page 2