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The old days...
Kadeo tried to sniff the air of the cellar, but the smoke was getting thick very quickly, and the air filled with the scent of burning oil, wood, and flesh from the brawler. Still, he didn't think Charleston would set the top on fire while he was still inside--this whole operation apparently hadn't been as suicidal as Kadeo thought. Another misjudgment, but Kadeo would not let it matter in the end. Charleston wouldn't be alive long enough to be misjudged anymore--this time for certain.
"Mixxa, can you clear us over?" Kadeo asked, keeping his voice low in case Charleston was listening.
"There's burning oil," she said. "Wood fire's not a problem, but that'll eat right through me. We might not have a choice..."
Kadeo looked around, gritting his teeth. They couldn't let it finish this way, with Charleston burning down everything that was important and getting whatever sick satisfaction he could out of... Marianne was waiting. Marianne believed everything would be fine, that nothing bad could happen. Could she see the fire? Did she believe differently? Kadeo growled, looking at the structure of the room.
"These beams," he said, staring at the wooden beams of the cellar. "We can bring 'em down."
"He's not above them," Cyril said.
"Not to kill him," Kadeo said. "If we can bring the floor down, break these two beams, we can climb up. Save ourselves, then get to killin' him."
Mixxa nodded and moved to the beam apart from Kadeo. "Just in this spot?"
"Right." Kadeo turned to Cyril. "On the count of three, we'll ram these things. Each count, you fire your revolver to block the sound. Charleston will think you're tryin' to hit him. Maybe he won't run too soon--or try to burn the whole place."
Cyril checked his revolver chamber--fully-loaded--and got as close as he could to the fire under the stairs aiming up.
"One... two... three." Kadeo and Mixxa rammed their beams as Cyril squeeze his revolver's trigger. The bullet took a chunk out of one wooden step and the beams began to splinter right away. "One... two... three." BANG! Another shot muffled the crunch. "Faster. One, two, three." BANG! "One, two, three." BANG! A louder crunch this time as the two beams split, one the gunfire couldn't completely cover. Kadeo and Mixxa hurried to the ones in the middle of the floor. "Faster! Three!" Kadeo shouted. BANG! "Three!" BANG! The beams cracked, as did the wood above. They were running out of time and Cyril had to reload. "To hell! Three!"
The beams cracked apart and the section of floor above them caved in, its long wooden planks knocking into the kegs and constructions below, giving the three a ramshackle ladder to the floor above. Cyril hurried to it, and Mixxa and Kadeo followed, leaping up as quickly as they could along the wood before the section of floor collapsed the rest of the way. The smoke broke through the floor and began to slither up the walls of the saloon. Kadeo scanned the area, catching the felled chair at the stairs where Charleston had sat, the dead bartender and patrons whom Charleston had killed, and the swinging doors where Charleston had just made his exit. Kadeo dashed, gripping his rifle hard, and Mixxa and Cyril followed.
"Get 'round back!" Kadeo shouted, leaping into the streets and nearly tumbling over himself. "Dust that fire out in back! We don't want this spreadin' to the whole town!" He glanced around quickly as the other two hurried off through the alley. They weren't his subordinates or anything, but they trusted him--they all had as much stake in this, even if Kadeo could only see his own.
"Kadeo!" Marianne called.
No, Kadeo thought, looking up. No, Marianne. Be quiet. Be quiet. He saw her, up in the third-floor window of the house across from the saloon. Not in any danger from the fire unless Charleston planned to light up that house as well, but... A shadow moved into its doors. No, no, no fucking no... Kadeo dashed, slinging his rifle onto his back. He was starting to run low on juice himself, a lot like the horse earlier, but it was almost done. It'll be good now. Just finish. Just do this right.
He rushed to the side of the building, running past the doorway, and leapt onto the side, under the window. No time for pleasantries--he rammed his fingers into the wood, tearing the skin off just to get a climbing grip. Didn't matter, just skin. His own body burrowed in, holding the building hard, and he began the climb. The other hand's fingers suffered the same, but it didn't matter. Just skin. Just blood. He went up, pull-by-pull, past the second floor window. Hurrying, forcing his fingers in. No time to feel the pain. He was stronger than this. He could tear the entire goddamn house down if he wanted and he could certainly get to its top.
The window was never too far away and he gripped its rim, pulling himself up as he unslung his rifle. No time to get into the room. He saw Marianne standing there, dressed in a sweet, white night gown, the one Jimmy said she'd love, saying he knew women better than Kadeo. She apparently loved it, but there was no time.
"Kadeo?" Marianne said, that worried look returning to her face, the one that asked, Now what? The door swung open behind her.
"Get down!" Kadeo shouted, aiming his rifle with one hand and locking it to his shoulder as best he could. Charleston appeared in the door, his revolver already drawn at his side, already aiming forward. No time to savor this: BANG! BANG! Two bullets, one shredding through Charleston's belly, the other through his heart. His face made that how-could-this-happen-to-me? look of shock and dismay, with his eyes widening and his jaw going slack as his body bent. Then he collapsed backwards without squeezing his trigger once, falling halfway down the steps outside the door in a clumsy tumble. He didn't move again.
Kadeo fell into the room from the window, dropping his rifle on the floor. Marianne knelt down with him, keeping her eyes locked to his face like he'd taught her to long ago when things went wrong--never to look at whoever Kadeo had just killed. He sighed loud, breathed deep, and started to laugh. His arms sprung out and he wrapped himself around her, holding her tight enough to feel her heart beating against him, but not so tight as to hurt her... never to hurt her. His face twisted and tears starting coming out through the human skin's eyes. He didn't want to ruin her nice night gown with his blood and tears, but she held him and wouldn't let go... Not that he wanted her to.
Across the street, Jimmy had returned to town and sounded the alarm, calling out the local people to contain the fire. Charleston's revenge had failed, and so had whatever conquering ambitions that he used to believe in. Jimmy's town would need a new saloon and bartender, but everything else was fine, down to each precious detail.
"I hope you're happy," Jimmy said, when Kadeo and Marianne appeared from across the street.
"You thought this was gonna be a lot worse," Kadeo said, smiling. "So did I, actually. But we got off pretty easy." He aimed his skinned thumb to the house across the street. "We got Charleston's body up in there, if ya want it."
Jimmy sighed. "We're still going to need that town, across the Cheyanna."
"You need it." Kadeo pulled his arm around Marianne. "I did my part."
"No big deal... We have time." Jimmy smiled. "Who am I kidding? I'm happy to see this going right. It's good to see you starting things right. Maybe I will someday, after I get all my business and affairs sorted out."
"You act like I'm goin' somewhere," Kadeo said.
"You are, sort of." Jimmy looked to Marianne. "You better marry this girl. She's had something good coming to her a long time."
"We're doin' this proper, Jimmy." Kadeo glanced at Marianne. "Hell, we'll go off, see a preacher, do it up, get on our own little vacation. Then maybe when we come back, you'll have an honest job for me. I was thinkin' sheriff, maybe."
Jimmy grinned. "That's fitting enough."
"I think so," Marianne said, smiling.
"We'll see." Jimmy nodded. "For now though, just relax. We'll see what good comes. You've got my promise that all this gang stuff is in the past, if you're serious about retiring."
"I am." Kadeo's face turned serious. "Like I said, doin' this proper."
Jimmy stuck out one hand and shook Kadeo's. "Enjoy that trip." He glanced at Marianne. "Both of you."
There were more goodbyes then, ones fuzzier in mind... Jeremy gave his well-wishes. Cyril said he'd look into what Kadeo could do if he was done with the rough stuff. Anton said he'd write a poem about it that they could read when the two got back. Mixxa kissed each of their cheeks for good blessings. And Jimmy saddled them with a pretty pair of horses and a solid piece of money. He meant it when he told them to enjoy that trip. And there were others, less important, but with just as much goodwill...
The night's rest was brief. Kadeo got everything set, tied the horses together at the reins so one could hold their baggage while the other held the happy couple. He lifted himself onto the horse and pulled Marianne up at his front, her legs swung over one side, her head resting against his chest. Again came the sweet smell of her red hair, dragging him out of the night and the day into a sweet dreamland where everything had finally gone right.
With a kick of the spurs and a whip of the reins, the horses trotted off, away from Jimmy's town. Marianne laid against Kadeo now, no longer scared or worried or in danger, but at last peaceful. At last free. She kissed his neck once before settling into sleep against him, and the extra limbs beneath his skin felt her fingertips, her arms, her face, her flowing hair... He smiled serenely, the confident kind of smile that comes with accomplishment. He stared ahead as they road to the north, with the sun rising in the east, painting the sky with the orange, red, and purple of the new dawn. And they lived happily ever after...
2038
"Ah damn... That's it..." Kadeo sighed and leaned back.
He'd walked from Domingo's base to the Flagstone train station, where he rented a room in a shitty little hotel near the tracks. Then he locked himself away, and fired the epterminol into his body. Not the skin that everyone saw, but what was underneath, deep into the organs, into the thick, where the juices could do some good. The heat hit him briefly, flaring over his innards, and for a second he thought he might spew--but then it passed and he went limp. He propped his boots up on the desk in the room, let his head roll over the back of the chair, and felt the ease as his body locked into Earth.
No more curtain pulls for a month. He could be where he belonged for a while. And at least for the rest of the night, he could relax a bit, let things cool off. He could think about the shapes of bullets, the intricacies of guns, the movements of train engines and helicopters--did they even have helicopters now? He doubted he'd see one. Maybe they had them in other places, where they were preserved or something. Something like a display: last of the helicopters. Did they still have a lot of things? Did they still have Elvis? They had to have Elvis. Hell, he could imagine a whole museum devoted to the twentieth century, if anyone was still into making museums and remembering history and culture... It'd never been his thing in most ways... Somebody out there was piecing it together. God only knew who, or where that was, or if he was gonna find out about it...
As these thoughts circled his head, Kadeo began drifting away again, into some land in his mind that wasn't the past, present, or future, but some other thing, one that hadn't happened yet. It ran a secret tunnel, into the past, with a vision of a non-future, on the flip-side of the present. A dream of some kind. In that place, he had big dreams.
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The old days...
Kadeo considered things carefully as he walked slowly, leaving the horse behind. He couldn't go to Marianne. Even though he'd be able to watch her then and make sure no one was with her, he ran the risk of leading Charleston and the other one right to her. Kadeo could take a few shots, but one stray bullet could shoot Marianne down like the most fragile dove in the world. At the same time, Kadeo had his sight on her building without turning his head, and hoped she hadn't moved from where he'd sent her earlier.
He considered ringing the alarm bell, dragging everyone in Jimmy's town out of their beds and into the street, but what good would it do? The gunmen Jimmy had left in town were just as likely to hit each other, their families, or Marianne as they were Charleston. Everyone worth a shit had gone with Jimmy. Mixxa and Cyril would be there soon and could help the search, but it would take time.
Kadeo turned his gaze to the saloon. It was the easiest place to hide in, since it was the only public building open this late. Charleston and his man could've easily broken into a window, but... It was a good place to check. Kadeo hurried to the saloon doors--this was no time for subtleties or slow-walking, nothing like the river bank. Charleston was back in town and had to be finished off--letting him linger and giving him places to hide would only be an invitation to disaster and death.
The doors swung at the hit of the rifle butt as Kadeo stormed into the saloon. There were a couple guys at the bar, neither of them looking up from their drinks, and the bartender was cleaning one of the empty tables. He usually closed up an hour after midnight. Without even looking up from his cleaning, he pointed his thumb downward. Charleston and the brawler had run to the cellar. They'd know Kadeo was coming from the creaks of the wooden floor under his thick boots and the sounds of his steps. They were in the position to ambush him, or possibly escape through the back entrance.
"Is the outside door locked?" Kadeo grunted, keeping his voice low and his rifle high.
The bartender nodded.
"Gimme the key."
The bartender handed the key from his ring to Kadeo just as Cyril and Mixxa appeared in the doorway.
"This where he is?" Mixxa called.
Kadeo shushed her quickly and hurried to the door. "You two get over to the basement stairs," he whispered. "I'm gonna head outside and watch the cellar door there. We're gonna squeeze 'em in."
"When do we move?" Cyril asked.
"Count to sixty," Kadeo said, stepping through the swinging doors again. Jimmy had built the town with a little space between the buildings, just in case there was a fire at some point, so Kadeo fortunately didn't have to circle one side of the town just to reach the back of the bar. He hurried over the alley, rifle still ready for any surprises, and found the cellar door slanted against the building, covered sparsely by brushes. Reaching through them, he unlocked the door quickly and tossed the padlock to the side, aiming his rifle again quickly.
Forty-eight, forty-nine...
He hoped he was on the same counting mark as Mixxa and Cyril. He also hoped Mixxa had gotten in front of Cyril, as she could take a hit better than he could. The cellar was damp, and even darker than the river had been... like a pit, a monster's nest settled underneath the saloon that had to be braved if the bartender wanted to pull up any special bottles or if Kadeo wanted pull up a bastard named Charleston.
Fifty-nine, sixty...
Kadeo stepped forward, keeping his rifle aimed right. As he did it, he remembered how he'd only been able to see Charleston's men riding into Jimmy's town because of the lights in front of them, and realized he was setting himself up for the same fall. He quickly moved from the cellar's opening and dove into the blackness, planting himself next to a construction of enormous wooden kegs. Mixxa and Cyril were coming down the steps--he could hear their footsteps clearly against the planks, which meant anyone else down there could. Of course, they'd certainly heard him opening the cellar door... Damn, he really hadn't thought about this plan very well.
Something rustled and Kadeo turned his rifle to the back of the kegs. It could've been behind him or on the other side--there was no way to tell. A clap of boot against stone sounded and Kadeo knew that Mixxa and Cyril had reached the bottom of the steps. This was like the river again--Kadeo had moved from where he was supposed to be and ran the risk of getting shot by his friends just as easily as by his enemies. He needed to change this plan and fast, or something was bound to go wrong.
Kadeo started to move, his boots scraping the stone floor as he slid from place to place, staying squatted as he shuffled around the kegs. He stopped, listened... No sounds except Mixxa and Cyril's walking. Were Charleston and the other even down here or had the bartender thought they were following someone else? Kadeo sniffed the air... No, they were here. Under the scents of must and alcohol, he could detect someone besides Cyril and Mixxa, someone noxious... the brawler. Kadeo couldn't tell where the man was, but he was in there, hiding somewhere. Maybe waiting for an open shot.
The cellar back doors slammed shut and the muffled metal sound of the padlock's click ran through the closed cellar. The brawler was inside--Charleston was not. Kadeo hurried away from the kegs as one creaked, rolling, falling down, and cracking apart, leaking sweet alcohol over the floor. The brawler was trying to crush them with the enormous barrels.
"Here!" Kadeo shouted. No point in keeping quiet--there was just the one to deal with. A shot fired nearby and he heard the bullets splinter the wood of another keg. He checked the stairway and could still see Mixxa and Cyril's shadows, growing larger as they neared him. They weren't in range--Kadeo fired. BANG! BANG! Nothing--no grunts or groans to tell that he'd hit a living thing. Another shot fired elsewhere, but it missed him again. Where the hell was this guy? Another shot. Kadeo knew then that the brawler had some pea-shooting revolver, not worth its weight in raw minerals, and so only two shots to go before reload time... And most folks didn't reload as quickly as Kadeo.
Another keg creaked, rolling over the others and onto the floor. Kadeo kicked its splintered, bent wood out of his way and fired into the other line of the kegs. BANG! There came a grunt, another knock into the kegs, and the hurried sound of boots over stone.
"Kad--" Cyril started.
"Hush," Kadeo growled. He listened. Nothing again. BANG! BANG! The brawler's last two shots fired out, and one hit Kadeo in the arm. It stung worse than any bee, but it meant little to him overall. If the brawler who couldn't shoot for shit was here, Charleston was outside, and Marianne was out there somewhere too, and... there was still the risk. "I've had enough of this shit!" Kadeo pushed Cyril back with his rifle. "Take it."
He then reached into his pocket, pulled out a match, and ran it over down a wooden beam before tossing it into the mess of broken kegs. The fire spread across the alcohol and wood as quickly as if over dried leaves in summer and Kadeo could see the brawler clearly. He was a burly Crosser, his disguise barely passable as human, and his hand covered a bloodied gut.
"He's done," Kadeo said, taking the rifle back from Cyril. He loaded a single bullet into its chamber, stared the brawler dead in the eyes--BANG!--and didn't watch him fall dead to the floor. As he turned around, a few more shots rang out overhead, in the main area of the saloon. Bodies hit the floor. "Up! Come on!"
The three turned to the stairs, away from the fire and broken kegs, just as an oil lamp crashed down the steps, igniting on the floor. Several bottles followed it before Kadeo and the others could reach the stairs, and the fire was burning bright and strong over the nearest kegs before they could make it.
"Kadeo!" Charleston shouted from above. "There's a fire outside the basement, and if my nose tells me right, you started another down there before I could... I'm burning this town to the ground and there's nothing you can do... I'm gonna find that rotted-out whore and there's nothin'... Nothing you can do." He was gasping for breath, exhausted from the chase, but he had the stairs covered. "I'm gonna wait... You're gonna choke, burn, and die or get shot up here. The barkeep's dead. The other people here are dead. This whole fucking town is dead. You're dead. She's dead, Kadeo. That goddamn tramp that killed my boy..." His voice cracked and Kadeo rolled his eyes as he heard the sob reach through the floor. "My boy... Do you understand how that feels, Kadeo? Kadeo, you asshole!" Another sob. "Son of a bitch... Burning's too good for you, but it's the worst I can do... If I could do what I'm gonna do to that bitch with you alive, knowing it, I would, but I can't guarantee a damn thing."
"Now what?" Mixxa asked Kadeo.
"You think what my son did to her was bad?!" Charleston shrieked, his voice breaking apart. "That was nothing. What I'm gonna do is much worse. The things I'll put her through. We'll be out in that desert for days and I'll make her cry and beg like... like the whore she is! Everything here will be gone and maybe I'll let her think there's some hope of you coming to save her, just so I can rip it out of her before it's over!"
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The old days...
Charleston's group had to be keeping perfectly still not to make a noise in the water, or at least be moving very slowly. The horses breathed loud and stamped their feet, but they were practically decoys. At the edge of the river bank, the flashes of Kadeo's gun would tell all of them where he was. Even killing a horse had to mean something--or he had to move fast.
Quiet. Dark. A cool breeze drifted over the river and the cold gripped Kadeo even inside the hot skin, even with all the tense sweat... Especially with the sweat. God, why did they have to be so silent? So efficient? They were easy enough to kill in the open, but somehow Charleston had gotten together people who knew what they were doing, and were loyal enough to charge off against Jimmy for the sake of Oakley. Or maybe Kadeo had pissed off several of them and they just wanted their chance to lynch him. That was fine. That was fair. But that didn't mean they would have their chance to do the deed.
The horses started to move. A careful ear could tell it was the horses by the sound of the splashing, plus their way of breathing and carrying on. Only trouble was that there had to be something to it. The horses would drift here and there, but they wouldn't move in a line unless ordered to do so. Which meant--what, that Charleston wanted his decoy moved away? Kadeo slid a little down the eastern river bank, but kept his boots out of the water. A horse started walking near him. Kadeo inched away, just as a man's leg went tripping over his own. The man's next step, his stumble, and his fall back into the river didn't at all match the horse's walk and Kadeo turned his gun on him without hesitation. BANG!
Charleston's men were walking along with the horses--just a step at a time, keeping their own sounds masked. Now the horses moved too fast, spurred into action by gunfire. Bullets whizzed past Kadeo's head in the dark. He quickly ducked behind the nearby horse and started firing into the river between its legs. Along the eastern bank, Jimmy and the others were firing as well, unloading into the river by the look of their flashes as horses barreled over, falling, dying, losing their riders, moving past them, turning the river into one big bloody mess that no one could see in the dark.
Friendly fire became an ever-present danger in the minds of Jimmy's group. With the enemy moving into position all around them, they couldn't know perfectly well who they were firing at. Kadeo was in the worst of this, as he'd moved without telling anyone. No one knew not to shoot where he was and he wasn't exactly confident in his ability to move quick when he couldn't see the guns.
So he shot erratically, upward, where none of Jimmy's crew could be. Everyone in that crew knew that it was Kadeo shooting so quick and furious, as if he'd never used a gun at all and didn't understand the value of patience and aim. That was his way. Unlike usual, he didn't hit targets often, but it certainly scared the shit out of the ones he missed, sending them flying off down the dirt and sand. He hadn't hit their bodies, but their nerves appeared shot.
"Ya still here, Charleston?!" Kadeo shouted and ducked. No one shot. He moved quickly along the bank. Any light would've been great, something he could use with permanence just to get an idea of what had happened.
"I think they're dead here," Anton called.
"My shoulder..." Jeremy groaned. "Bastards got me there..."
"I think a horse stepped on my foot," Mixxa said. "No harm done though."
"We're gonna have to wait for daylight, huh?" Cyril asked.
"No," Jimmy said. "I want Charleston, or this isn't going to end. Let's re-light the torches."
Kadeo hurried up the bank again, tucking his revolver into the holster at his side, as everyone move to the horses. As he cleared the bank, he saw the lights of Jimmy's town in the distance, the only man-made lights around. Then he noticed them... The black dots riding off toward those lights. Charleston and his gang, or whoever was left of his best, were riding along while Jimmy and the group were fumbling around for torches in the black night.
"There they go!" Kadeo shouted, rushing to his horse, tethered a hundred yards from the river. "They're headin' to town!"
"Some of them," Jimmy said, apparently unshaken. "We'll split up so some stay here--"
"Do it then!" Kadeo called, hopping onto his horse and ripping its tether loose. He whipped the reins and pulled the horse into the direction of the lights. That made it simpler--the horse wanted the lights anyhow. "Send whoever! Hurry up!" He didn't hear Jimmy's reply.
Whether they'd wanted the town all along or just wanted it now as a trap for Kadeo didn't mean shit. Marianne was there, waiting for him, thinking he was coming home to put this whole goddamn nightmare in the past. Hell, put the past into another past, before she was ever born, forget it all, and start something new, where the only monster in her head was the one she'd fallen in love with. There were two things at stake here. The obvious was Marianne's life. The other was her trust. Getting her out so smoothly, seemingly without effort, had given her way to trust Kadeo completely, without question. If he seemed to stumble here... if the promise came even close to breaking... She'd always worry that somebody--if not Oakley, then someone--would break everything apart.
Kadeo had to do more than end the war that night. He had to end it for good.
In their careless fervor to reach Jimmy's town, thinking they were so wise in their escape, they didn't realize that they'd lined themselves out perfectly for Kadeo. Against the lighted backdrop, they were visible. Aiming on horseback was harder than on foot, without a doubt, but it was certainly easier than firing blindly in the dark. Kadeo whipped the reins, reloaded beneath his coat, and flipped the two revolvers into his hands. Even if only half the bullets hit, it'd be a good try. Hell, even a quarter. He started firing. BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three fell. The rest of the bullets missed and Kadeo whipped the reins again. He'd need to head them off to give himself a decent shot with the rifle and there was no pass to do that from. The horse had to go faster. He hated beating on the poor thing, but there was no other way he could see. He wasn't fast on his feet; he had no flying machine or speedy train. The damn horse was his best and only shot of getting to Jimmy's town in time, and if he killed it in making it there in time, he'd mourn the damn thing and give it a proper sendoff, but he'd at least have gotten there in time.
The horse got closer. Kadeo decided to try the revolver again after a quick undercoat reload, this time with just one gun. He aimed carefully this time. One shot... nothing. A second shot hit. And the third. And the fourth. Fifth and sixth were misses, but now the lights were getting closer and Kadeo had an idea of what he was dealing with: Charleston at the lead, still charging off like a madman, his rifle out and ready for when he could stop. Four were left behind him, now firing back at Kadeo with their terrible aim. He could tell at least one of them was a brawler, not cut out for shooting. He had to make them dead.
Slowing... The horse was having its fill, dashing to reach the other horses. There was still a gap between the chase and the town. Kadeo leaned down to the horse's ear. "Come on, you sack of shit. Do this for me and you won't have to pull another wagon a day in your life. No more dashes, no more chases, no more shooting. Easy life, out in the open grass. If you can do this. If you can do just this one thing right, dammit all."
Whether the horse understood or it just responded well to yelling, it started galloping quickly again... quicker than before... gaining on them. Kadeo grinned and yanked out the rifle. He'd used up all his magnum shells and it was down to whatever was fit to be fired through his longer barrel. If that went dry, he was willing to get down and dirty with these sons of bitches, and he liked his chances there, so long as they didn't shoot him too much.
Aiming above the horse's head, Kadeo waited for everything to start bobbing down, and then fired before the horse could bob up again. BANG! It was a split-second moment, but he hit one of the riders in the middle of his back. He fell away, rolling under his own horse's hooves as Kadeo rode past him. Glancing back suddenly, he could see Mixxa and Cyril riding up in the distance, carrying high torches. If they arrived to help, then fine, but Kadeo wasn't saving them any action. Time was short.
He got another good shot in with the rifle just before Charleston and his remaining riders charged into the street of Jimmy's town. One of the lackeys fell and Charleston was left with two. They stopped their horses in the center of town, dismounted as Kadeo rode in through the entrance with a whooping battle cry, and another one fell as Kadeo jumped from his horse's back, landing straight enough to fire another shot.
Reload time. He slid the bullets in quick, one after another... Two left. Charleston and another, the brawler. Kadeo had a couple of advantages to him. For one thing, the two had no idea where Marianne was. For another, they were in Jimmy's town. No one who could help them lived anywhere nearby, and certainly not on the eastern side of the Cheyanna. The war had turned into little more than a game of hunting. Charleston hadn't come to battle with Jimmy--in that, Kadeo had underestimated him. He'd assumed Charleston's grief was false, as if he'd been waiting for an excuse to make war with Jimmy. He had no idea what profound impact it would have on so seemingly heartless a man... to kill his only child. The world could change in the biggest ways with the littlest of actions. Kadeo finished loading the gun and began his march down Jimmy's single street. He began to whistle low. He didn't care if they knew where he was--it would keep them away from Marianne. And he wanted to be found now.
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Mr. Box, as he wanted to be called by Kadeo, stood next to a patch of prairie shrub atop a short hill near Domingo's base, wearing a white coat and holding a briefcase. His two bodyguards stood nearby, but they wouldn't be necessary. Kadeo had no plans of hurting Mr. Box to get what he needed or as punishment for that stupid alias.
"Right on time, Kadeo," Mr. Box said, checking his watch for effect.
"No shit," Kadeo said, walking up the hill. "I had to take the train. It's gonna be on-time."
"I wish that was always true," Mr. Box said, scratching his bald, pock-marked head that looked a lot like an ostrich egg.
"Let's cut the crap." Kadeo reached into his pocket and started stacking bills. "You said two-thousand for a syringe. I've got enough for two more, and I'm nearly halfway to a fourth."
"I only brought one." Mr. Box set the suitcase down. "I thought that would be incentive for you not to rob me, knowing you couldn't get more."
Kadeo glared. Most people who didn't commit to the rough stuff didn't understand what people like Kadeo were after. Only brainless thugs stumbled around trying to rough up everyone who crossed their paths and took anything they wanted until someone a little smarter, stronger, or just plain better than them wiped them off the face of the Earth. "Do I scare you, Mr. Box?"
Mr. Box nodded. "More than Domingo."
Kadeo counted out the money. "I've got the two-thousand here. Can ya go get me more?"
"This is all I could take without my supervisor noticing." Mr. Box reached out his open hand, awaiting the money to be put in his palm. "Besides, you're better off waiting for it... Do you know what this stuff does to a person? I know why you're taking it, but do you know the side-effects?"
"I been taking this shit for nearly a hundred years," Kadeo said, slapping the stack of bills into Mr. Box's hand. "Check to make sure that's all real--I got it from a moron and he might've been fooled pretty easily." Typically Kadeo wouldn't have cared, but in this case he was planning to be a repeat-customer.
Mr. Box pulled a tiny flashlight out of his coat and began inspecting the dollars. "I'm just asking because things could get fairly rough for you, and you don't want to risk breaking your spare syringes unless you have a secure place."
Kadeo didn't have one. "Alright..." He leaned down and lifted the suitcase, setting the flat part on his palm and opening it. A syringe and separate needle laid comfortably against shredded paper and little bits of soft plastic. "Ya didn't say what the concentration was."
"It's at half." Mr. Box smiled and shut off his flashlight, satisfied with the wad of cash. "It's enough to kill a human, but I think you'll be fine."
"Half should be good." Kadeo usually had a little more, but it wouldn't do much good to complain, and getting it right was tricky. The drug would still work for him. Better to have it last a little less time than to mix it with too much concentration and have him spewing purple goo until dawn. He'd be back to square one with no drug and a night full of pain. "How long do ya think a shot will last me?"
"Hmm..." Mr. Box shrugged. "A month? Maybe a little more? You'll notice when it starts to wear off, as the side effects... Well, I guess you've been through it before."
"Yeah." Kadeo closed the suitcase and stuck out a hand. "Guess you won't need to see me bein' disagreeable then."
"I think you're there." Mr. Box shook Kadeo's hand. "If you've been taking epterminol that long, I would estimate you have some permanent problems."
"Nah..." Kadeo turned around. "I've been off it since 2011 and everything was fine n' dandy."
"In that case, be careful!" Mr. Box called as Kadeo started walking away. "It might be worse than you remember. System shock!"
Kadeo waved and hit the bottom of the hill. He looked to the briefcase, feeling a little nervous for the first time that day. Worse? How could things be worse? He knew the side-effects... the weakness and the temper. He could never pick which was worse, as he loved his strength, and he preferred his usual cold, rational anger to the hot-headed rage that epterminol could set him in if he didn't stay active.
He was lucky to be a mercenary--it meant he'd never be out of work, sitting in the low periods the way he had with Jimmy sometimes. On the other hand, he'd have to start taking jobs he didn't like if he wanted to stay active. He had plenty of money, more than a lot of people, but he'd still need more of it. Per month?
Way back, Jimmy had talked about finding a cure for Kadeo's condition. The feeling of hitting critical, when the drug ran out and it was time to succumb, was like having your whole body ripped apart, layer-by-layer, starting with the stretching tears of the skin, the muscles, deep down to the core... But worse than that was finding out he'd been pulled through the curtain, away from Earth, and back to his birth world.
He shuddered as he walked along the railroad tracks. His birth world? He couldn't do that again. The last twenty-seven years cut off from Earth had been almost the worst period of his life. The curtain divided the worlds, but he'd learned at a young age how to pull it open, like pushing back any old curtain in any normal human home, and find a new world. Earth had been first and after that, there was no point in checking out the other worlds or in going back home again. Earth was home. Earth was good. He didn't want to be ripped away because of some stupid condition--hell, even a good reason wasn't worth leaving Earth and going back to his birth world.
"Just a little longer," Kadeo muttered to himself, patting the suitcase. "Just gotta find a place to unwind..."
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The old days...
Kadeo and Marianne crossed the Cheyanna pretty easily. It was summer and the river was only a foot deep in the middle. Had everything happened in spring, they would've been in trouble. The horse's hooves splashed through without a pause, trotting lightly across. No problems. No sign of anybody yet. Kadeo whipped the reins and the horse bolted up the side, up the dirty river bank, and onward to Jimmy's town, a dusty street between two rows of shoddy wooden houses. Along its northern stretch was a trail leading to a small wooden stop, and along that stop were the foundations of a railway. Jimmy had big plans for that station. Big dreams.
The lights appeared in the murky distance. "Is that it?" Marianne asked. Her voice wasn't weak for a change--she felt full and alive, and her voice sounded in kind.
"Yeah," Kadeo said, whipping the horse's reins again. "It ain't much--"
"I don't care." Marianne sat up, away from his body for a moment. He leaned over her, the skull crossing her shoulder. She didn't look, but she felt Kadeo behind that mask. "It looks gorgeous to me."
Kadeo thought of saying something about her being gorgeous, but he didn't want to seem silly or witless. She wouldn't have minded, but it was his own image... Lovers even laughed at each other's bad jokes. "Y'know, tell Jimmy that. Sure as shit no one else has said it."
A few more minutes passed and the horse slowed into the town, where Jimmy and a bunch of the others were waiting with rifles and torches. Mixxa in her layers of cover, Cyril under his skin, Jimmy with his horns filed off and covered with a hat, Jeremy with his skin colored... and then Anton, the only human in the old gang. They all smiled as Kadeo's horse stopped in front of Jimmy and Kadeo lowered Marianne to the ground.
Jimmy stepped up to her and kissed her hand--didn't matter what her former occupation was. She was a guest now. "Nice to meet you, Marianne. Kadeo doesn't shut up about you."
Marianne smiled sweetly, trying to cover a bruised shoulder with her arm. "Pleased to meet you, Jimmy. I'll help whatever way I can."
"We won't be needing that just yet." Jimmy smiled. "I hope you're happy here." Then he scowled and turned to Kadeo. "You get your ass into some decent skin. We've got enough trouble headed our way without that ugly-fuck skull parading around all night."
Kadeo hopped off the horse with a smile, nodded to Jimmy, and hurried into Jimmy's office house. After a few minutes, he emerged in human cover, probably the most convincing disguise out of all of them considering it was actually made of a human. His dark skin shined in the firelight, his long, tied hair dangled from beneath his hat, and his brown coat flew as he whipped his revolvers out--they shined in the firelight too.
"We got some time," Kadeo said. "Half-hour to an hour. What do ya need?"
"I don't want this happening in the town," Jimmy said. "So we've got less time if we're gonna take them out there. Everyone, follow me." He raised his torch and started off to the entrance of town. He was the only one dressed nicely in any way--black suit, fancy hat. He'd do his part in fighting too. Jimmy was the leader, but unlike Charleston, he wasn't afraid to get dirty even after he had people following him. If anything, he earned their respect more securely that way.
Kadeo turned to Marianne and smiled. "How's that, doll?"
"Everything's beautiful," she said, putting her hands over his skin. It was warm, alive still. She never asked questions. Most humans did--Anton asked a thousand in a week, if not more. But she accepted it all, as if she thought these things were normal out in the wide world and that she'd know them if she'd been better-educated or had grown up in some other place. Still, Kadeo was magic to her. She suffered no culture shock. She thought he chose to look like a black man because no one could hurt him anyway, so it didn't matter how much stupid hate there was out in the world. Kadeo was the invincible.
"I gotta go do this for now." Kadeo leaned in slowly and kissed Marianne's lips gently. "Then we got it all to ourselves. No one's comin' through here and messin' it up. Just sit tight. By mornin', you'll see us riding back in."
Marianne lowered her head. She knew he meant it--he always kept his promises. He'd already kept a big one that night. He'd made her dreams come true in just an hour's time. Still, tears started to trickle and she couldn't help the needless worry that he wouldn't come back for her. Kadeo could rarely read a face, but he knew her heart, and took her into his arms. They held for a minute. The warmth spread and she took what she needed, as if everything was fixed. It wasn't, but Kadeo had patched it well enough to last until morning. Just long enough...
"Kadeo!" Jimmy shouted from the town's entrance. "Let's go!"
"I'm comin'!" Kadeo shouted. He kissed Marianne's forehead, pointed her to the house, with the room he'd prepared for her, and hurried to Jimmy, clicking his tongue for his horse to follow.
Lights approached the Cheyanna on the west side, riding quickly, about a dozen in all, and the men riding numbered twice that. And for once, probably for the first time since leaving Jimmy's crew, Charleston was riding with them, at the head of the pack, his face locked in a steely glare. He hadn't shed a single tear at the news that his son's neck was broken. But people had seen Kadeo come in, had heard him ask for Marianne, and Charleston's cold rage took hold of him, sending him and all his gunners and brawlers off to kill Kadeo--and anyone who stood in their way.
Jimmy stood in the way. Killing Jimmy--an attempt to kill Jimmy--would mean open war. Kadeo knew it when he killed Oakley, when he took Marianne. He and Jimmy had talked about it. There was no question over what Kadeo would do when the lines had been drawn and Marianne fell on the other side thanks to Oakley's sadistic fascination with her and the pathetic size of the testicles owned by the man running her home. Jimmy's only decision had been whether he'd stand by Kadeo or let him fall to the wayside, leaving him and Marianne to fend for themselves. Either Oakley would've come after them if Marianne had been alone or Charleston would've brought his heavy forces, as he did when crossing the Cheyanna to avenge his son and pride.
No moon. No lights besides the stars, the torches of the riders, and the faint, distant lights of Jimmytown. Charleston didn't slow down for the western bank, letting his horse leap into the water. He didn't slow down more than he had to for the water, and only the sudden white flashes and sounds--BANG! BANG!--stopped him from going up the eastern bank. Two of his men fell behind him. All the horses stopped, whinnied, tried to flee, but only the ones whose riders had died managed to get away.
"Who's out there?!" Charleston shouted, his voice flaming over the sky and the shallow river. "Come into the light, you cowards!" He was trying to pull their positions, both by coming forward and by getting a vocal negative. Silence responded. "Kadeo, where the hell are you?! Is this how you killed my son?! Hiding?! Grinning in the dark, you sick freak?! Huh?!"
Kadeo felt himself tensing inside the tight human skin. Beads of sweat that weren't his dripped down his darkened face, shielded from the firelight by their distance. It didn't matter for his revolver--he could hit anything he could see, pretty much. Charleston could die at any minute. Any minute he pulled the trigger. Sure, then every other gun there would turn on him, but that was what Jimmy and the gang were for.
Except Charleston wasn't Kadeo's target. He was Jimmy's. And Jimmy wasn't as good a shot. BANG! His rifle sounded. BANG! BANG! He hit the horse's leg and nothing else. Charleston rolled off the dying animal and knelt into the water, dousing his torchlight. The rest of the men dismounted, dousing their torches. No more targets. The river laid into quiet darkness and Kadeo scowled, looking for some kind of target. If someone tried sneaking to Jimmy's town, tried to hurt Marianne again and break his promise... In those days, there was no condition to blame for the rage and torture the man would feel, except maybe love--a seldom rivaled sickness.
Jimmy's kill or not, Kadeo moved toward the river bank. Closer... closer... a rumbling in his gut...
2038
The train shook hard, its usually-soothing rumble jolted by some bump in the tracks. Kadeo loved the trains for that steady rumble above all the gears and technology in them. It wasn't the same as a rickety truck, where you felt every bump in the road, but a constant tremble,like calming white noise. Trains usually made it easy to sleep. He sat up slowly, glancing out the window: still dark--he knew it would be. Checking his gold pocket watch, he saw it had only been an hour since he got on. Not even midnight, he thought. If I can't sleep this bad, how's it gonna be...
The whistle blew. Maybe that had woken him, sounding once before, and the train began to slow, skidding along the metal. It had to have been the whistle--there was nothing else to rouse him. None of the other passengers in his car were sitting anywhere near him, probably on purpose. And it was for the best that he'd been woken up: the train was at his stop. He lifted himself slowly as the train pulled into the station and marched off the train onto the wooden platform. A lot of people seemed to be getting off here.
Domingo's base stood before the station, its massive metal gates spreading all around the compound so that only the hills and the enormous towering generators reaching toward the sky could be seen from outside. None of that mattered though. He had a meeting a little ways west of Domingo's base, with someone under Domingo's shadow.
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The old days...
Kadeo didn't keep very good track of the years. The end of the old days happened sometime in the late 1800s--must've been1866 or 1867. Definitely post-Civil War, also known as the War Between the States, also known to Kadeo and Jimmy's crew as the big shitstorm. Some of Jimmy's old crew fought in it, others took advantage of those fighting in it, and a few decided it was their time of opportunity, to branch off from Jimmy and strike out on their own horizons. Jimmy didn't mind this back then--as long as every man paid his dues and didn't try anything funny, he wished them the best of luck.
But one thing he absolutely could not stand was for one of them to turn back around and become competition. With the industrial revolution kicking in, the freed slaves being a cheap labor source for a wider variety of brutal employers, and the opening of the west, it seemed like a good time to cut others down.
Jimmy wasn't having that when Charleston decided he wanted a piece of land. Things didn't get too out of hand at first. Then it got bad, looking like war was going to break the land apart. Then, at what everyone thought was the worst of it, Jimmy and Charleston discussed some business, made an agreement, and decided they could co-exist, with Jimmy's company taking up the towns on the eastern side of the Cheyanna River and Charleston's company on the west. Everything seemed like it would be fine.
Cut, dry, and it would've been so simple... if not for Kadeo and one young whore who turned out to be working on the western side. She also happened to be a favorite of Charleston's son Oakley. She was thin, fragile... He knew she wouldn't say a word to anyone about what else he did to her, and if she did, no one would even care. The scars screamed though and Kadeo could hear them. Kadeo cared.
One night, Kadeo crossed the river on horseback. Keeping his hat low and his body hidden, no one was the wiser about his appearance. No one knew he was walking around a human town without a human skin. Even in Jimmy and Charleston's own towns, most humans remained oblivious. Kadeo was over a century away from a Crosser's world. Disguised, he rode up to a building in Charleston's town that was part inn, part bar, and part cathouse.
The scene was nothing like the old westerns people used to watch on TV, where the guy burst in through swinging doors and all the chatter and card-playing stopped so half the people could stare at him slack-jawed and the other half could give him the evil eye. There were swinging doors--Kadeo walked through them calmly, without a jingle in his spurs, and approached the counter of the innkeeper/bartender/pre-industrial pimp. No one batted an eye.
"Upstairs," Kadeo said. "I wanna see Marianne." Two gold pieces hit the counter.
The little fat man wiped the counter, picked up the coins, and pushed up his tiny spectacles like he was a dandy or something. "She's with someone."
Kadeo tipped his wide-brimmed hat. "I'll wait my turn."
"Give her a break, will ya?" the barkeep called. "She's been busy all day."
"I can wait." Kadeo trudged up the stairs. He acted pissed, but he enjoyed it more than he let anyone know--anyone except Marianne. He'd been playing the rough rider, the thief, the Robin Hood, the smuggler, and the killer--Jimmy's particular favorite for him--since he got to Earth. Walking up to Marianne's room, where he could hear Oakley's disgusting man-groans, he was playing the hero for the first time. Getting what he wanted, for himself, and for someone else. Saving the day, even if it damned the rest of them. Jimmy called that "good old American pluck." Kadeo called it "goddamn obvious."
While Kadeo could have waited, he chose not to. Why would he? One swift kick and Marianne's door crashed open, with Kadeo's revolver already pointed at Oakley's bare back. Before he could move for his own gun, Kadeo pulled him by the hair, up, off, out, and next to his bleached jaw. "Howdy, Oakley," he breathed into the young man's ear.
Oakley was never smart. He'd been spoiled by his father, in brain and body. Kadeo glanced over him. He wondered how horrible it must've been for Marianne to experience everything this... boy had done. Oakley squirmed, tried to fight, but it only made things worse as Kadeo locked his arm around the kid's neck.
"Y'know why I ain't gonna shoot you, Oakley?" Kadeo asked. The kid's neck was scrawny, laid bare. Kadeo wanted to chomp into it to prove everything this moment meant, but Marianne was watching--he'd make it quick and simple.
"Cause you know what it'll mean," Oakley said. "Cause of the deal with Jimmy and Charleston." He was trying to sound tough, but the whimper in his voice was clear. He was hoping against hope that he had the right answer.
He did not. "Nah," Kadeo growled. "It'd just make too much noise." He pressed his hands together around Oakley's head and twisted his neck. It gave little resistance before the hard-and-wet snap echoed over the room and his body fell limp to the floor. Kadeo knew it hadn't been as quick and simple as he'd wanted, but--what was done was done. It was cleaner than what he wanted to do to Oakley.
"Kadeo?" Marianne asked, covering her front with the sheet of her bed.
"Yeah, doll," Kadeo said. He let his hat lift back and the skull-face smiled at her stiffly, the one he put on at night when he had dirty work to do. The human skull could do wonders in scaring people--ancient tribes had used it for just that.
But Marianne didn't flinch. She knew Kadeo's voice under any face. "You're not supposed to be here."
"Throw some clothes on. We're breakin' out of this piss-soaked hellhole."
Kadeo saw the first snow of winter in her smile--or the first rain in spring. Anton had written a poem saying something like that during one of the slow months, about some other girl, but the words seemed to fit Marianne's face. Kadeo didn't have the right words for it himself... but he knew that smile was special, the way it spread over her mouth, like she wasn't used to smiling. Her red hair flew up like a storm as she moved, hurrying from the bed, getting her things together. Kadeo didn't have the right words--but he damn well knew how he felt.
They slipped out the window, Marianne holding tight on Kadeo's back, and their drop to the ground went unnoticed. The horse was waiting, tied against a tree, and Kadeo lifted Marianne on before getting up behind her. It was a big, strong horse, and it didn't have very far to go. Still, Kadeo didn't have any illusions of getting through this free. He knew they'd have a half-hour at most before Oakley was found, maybe another half-hour before Charleston was told, and they'd know exactly who did it... Kadeo estimated an hour and a half before Charleston and his troops would be charging across the Cheyanna. At that was at most, and if Charleston didn't have any goons in the bar who could set out after Kadeo immediately.
She was there though. Right under him, between his arms, laying back against him. No more beatings, no more breakings, no more... terror. A war was coming, but it wouldn't lay an eye on her, let alone a finger. His strength unhampered, Kadeo could lift a train engine--if only for a minute--and yet touch her soft skin as gently as if he were holding a human baby. And in the wind, with the horse running, getting near the drafts of the river, the smell of her hair just under his face enchanted him, enough to forget the war, the consequences, about Jimmy and the gang, and just think of laying with her...
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Rictor stared at Kadeo silently for a moment, his eyes calling breathlessly for mercy he was too proud to ask for with his tongue. Kadeo had broken a lot of pride in his time, including his own. Death had a sophistocated kind of humility about it. Rictor dropped to the floor, bending his head. "The best you can do. A position, living... something. I'll give you all of it."
Kadeo's grin stayed and he lifted his gun away. "There ya go. That's usin' your head."
The office door started to open and Kadeo slammed his back against it hard. "Kadeo?" a woman's voice called. It was Antonina.
"I'm here," Kadeo said. "I got Rictor."
"Dead?" Antonina asked, her voice as deadpan as usual...
"Not right now. We're negotiatin' and waitin' on your pop."
"There's nothing to negotiate." Antonina was deadpan, except when angry. She had a harshness about her that Kadeo really didn't want to know more about. "Kill him, Kadeo."
"You ain't payin' me and Muratov never said a damn thing about me takin' orders from you," Kadeo growled. "Back off. We'll figure things when he gets here."
Muratov arrived in less than an hour, riding a pickup truck driven by a short, red-headed Crosser named Derucho. Muratov was big, eight-feet tall like Kadeo--who'd have thought the height was so uncommon in the pre-Mess world? His red skin stood out in the yellow and white room like a stain of blood had grown limbs and entered. The spikes jutting out from his limbs and back stood stiff, not trembling at all like the ones on Rictor's head. He stood firm and resolute.
"Kadeo," he said in the accusing tone Kadeo was used to hearing from people who paid him. He had something of a Russian accent that made it seem harsher though. Or Ukrainian. Or something along those lines--Kadeo wasn't clear on the details. "Rictor is supposed to be dead."
"Is he?" Kadeo asked, glancing at Rictor, who had taken his place behind his desk again, his shoulders a little more slumped now. His axe had been tossed out the window, just to be sure. "My memory gets kinda' fuzzy with details, but I think you told me to make sure he didn't leave."
"Fuzzy as your memory might be, you know what I wanted." Muratov stepped past Kadeo, his yellow eyes glaring into Rictor's soul. "You were a very stupid man to hire Kadeo to eliminate us."
Rictor nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."
Muratov's eyebrows rose. "Sorry?" He turned back to Kadeo. "He says sorry?"
"I get the feelin' he's new," Kadeo said, smiling again. "New to Earth, new to bossin', new to... anything important." He took off his hat, letting the brim hang from the back of his duster. "You got a place for an idiot?"
"We have hired yourself," Muratov said blankly. "Rictor has no place with us."
"There's nothin' you guys do that you don't wanna do? Shit rolls downhill."
Muratov nodded and turned to Rictor. "It is a matter of how much Rictor wants to live... How proud are you, Rictor?"
Rictor looked into Muratov's eyes and smiled. "I don't know."
Bullshit, Kadeo thought.
"I would rather not kill someone if I could use him," Muratov said. "What you did was pathetic, so you cannot be so proud. We will find work for you, but without responsibility. I do not think you could handle it anyway."
"Good enough?" Kadeo asked, leaning against the wall.
Rictor stayed quiet for a minute, turning his eyes down to his desk... Muratov's new desk. He had a goodbye look on his face, but he might've just been thinking it out, whether he'd be better off doing what Muratov wanted or dying. Like a lot of immigrants to the new Earth, he'd probably started with bigger dreams than that. Just didn't know who he was fuckin' with, Kadeo thought.
"Alright," Rictor said, taking a deep breath, the kind that only comes with surrender. "I'll do what you want."
"Then let us go outside," Muratov said, waving a hand. "You do not belong here anymore."
A cough echoed from the door and Kadeo heard Antonina stamping down the stairs. Muratov left next. As Rictor started out, Kadeo's hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Pay time," Kadeo said.
Rictor didn't even turn around. "You didn't save me. Why should I give you anything?"
"Did ya forget that Antonina and the dick-lick crew were comin' to kill you?" Kadeo smiled. "That Muratov wanted me to kill ya? Where's the money? I swear to God, Muratov wouldn't give two shits if I cap ya right now. He's takin' you in on account of some possible use comin' outta' ya. So--where's my fuckin' money?"
"Under the desk," Rictor said. "Where it always is."
Kadeo smiled sheepishly. He should've figured it would be that simple. "Fine." Kadeo gave Rictor a light tap on the back. "Get a move on." Rictor didn't turn around once as he left--he'd been lucky just to get out alive.
Kadeo glanced through the door, checked to see that no one was waiting, and then stepped over to the desk. The money was there--he couldn't be sure it was all of it, but he never would be. Rictor could've hid money anywhere. Still, it was certainly a lot more than he would've been paid for killing Muratov's crew. "Let's see what we got," Kadeo said, fingering and counting quickly. "Nice to see ya, Mr. Franklin. Always a pleasure, Mr. Jackson. Ah, President Lincoln--you were prettier in person." He had no idea where a punk like Rictor had gotten so much money, but it didn't matter. The bills were good. Counterfeits were easy to spot and pretty commonplace since every asshole who could figure out how to work a printing press wanted to make them, some even drawing their own faces on the dollars. Only one new bill existed, and it had a very recognizable Crosser's face on it. Rictor didn't have any of that bill.
Kadeo stuffed the lumpy bags into his coat--he'd need to find something better for the long-term, depending on how much money would be left by morning--and got down the steps quickly, the sun already set. The present portion of the Muratov Cartel was packing up outside. Muratov had Rictor in the back of the truck, and he was leaning against the side, watching everyone.
"Where's everyone goin'?" Kadeo asked, looking around with a smile. "You ain't gonna' take your new town for a test run?"
"We have a lot to bring in here, and many defense improvements to make before those items are secure," Muratov said, chomping down on a cigar. "It is not your concern."
"Nah, course not." Kadeo grinned. "I ain't part of your crew... But I need my pay."
Muratov stared at him blankly for just a second, letting the smoke drift out of his cigar--maybe sucking in the flavor--before reaching into the back of the truck and yanking out a package of bills. "You have much, Kadeo."
"Yup, and I look forward to havin' more." Kadeo took the package and stuffed that under his coat as well. Good as he was at concealing all his weapons under the flowing duster, he didn't really have empty places to put the money. He'd never needed any before, thanks to Jimmy. "Wait a sec..." He pulled the package out again, ripped it open, and quickly scanned it over. "You mother-fucker. There's a thousand bucks missing."
Muratov pulled the cigar from his mouth. "For the three of my men you killed. Two for Kochik, four over Reins, and four over Beschi."
Kadeo growled. "Bullshit! You said you got that."
"I said that I understood. And I do--mistaken identity..." Muratov put the cigar back and the light fell over his face... A "don't fuck with me" face. Kadeo didn't know it for sure, but that was what he meant when he made that face. "I did not say you were exempt from paying for your mistake. Carl in particular is rather upset over Beschi's death."
Kadeo glanced to the right without a word. He could see Carl Reiford standing there, leaning against the wall as best he could in that mess of a body he had. He would never have been able to hide himself as a human in the pre-Mess, with that long mouth-stalk coming out of his back... He glared without motion, like he wanted to do something but was just too chicken-shit to go for it. Their first meeting earlier in the week hadn't gone pleasantly.
"Besides, you are getting a nice bonus from Rictor," Muratov said, dragging Kadeo's attention back from Carl. "Your job is finished."
Kadeo did have plenty of money. It was the principle of the matter, but on some level he knew: the customer was always right. He shrugged, smiled, and started heading south. "You'll be hirin' me again real soon."
"How do you know?"
Kadeo stopped, shoving the money package into his coat again. "You should've killed those other mercs. Now they'll be off lookin' for work, and Jimmy and Domingo are gonna wonder just what happened in Calridge to send 'em runnin' scared."
Muratov nodded. "I suppose..." He bit hard on the cigar. "You make a great deal of trouble for someone who has only been back for one week."
Kadeo grinned and started walking again, passing the truck. "Heh, this is nothin'. The shit I'd stir in the old days makes this look like a car needin' an oil change: no big deal and sometimes it's free." He looked over his shoulder. "Come to think of it, this didn't turn out bad for ya."
"No," Muratov said. "Our losses to you came before Rictor, and this revenge was a success. We have something like what we need."
Kadeo waved his black hat behind him. "I'll be stoppin' in..." he muttered. He let the hat fall to his back again and started into the desert. The train station sat only a mile from Calridge, some of it running on the other side of its western hills. It ran day and night, switching runners at dawn and dusk, and Kadeo kept a paper of the schedules in his pocket. Cargo cars, passenger cars, a main railway station for making switches and such... The train runners seemed more organized than anyone else in the post-Mess world--or at least the bit of it Nevada had offered Kadeo since his return.
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It took an hour for anyone to appear. The sun was setting by then, laying orange, red, and little bits of black and purple into the air. If it'd been a flat desert area, the oncoming intruders wouldn't be able to hide. But a low set of hills ran along the western side of the town, working their way to the south until the place where they'd been broken up years earlier so the railroad could run smooth.
Kadeo pointed Rictor's men towards this area, the absolute best place for someone to go if they wanted to invade Calridge at dusk. Most of the fighters crowded by the western entrance, crouched behind the barbed wire fence, waiting nervously. Kadeo didn't bother. He'd been here before, sure, but he liked getting an eyeful of the land, strolling along, whistling contently. With every passing note, he could see the fighters getting tenser and tenser, ready to blow their tops at the first sign of trouble. It was good preparation for a fight if you needed berserkers, and for all Kadeo cared, they might as well have been just that. They didn't give any more shit about Calridge or the people living there than Rictor--they just wanted their money and to stay alive.
Kadeo could relate. He passed Rictor's building two times, three times, checking out the entrances from a distance. Anyone coming along from the southern or eastern entrances would be easy to spot by the couple guards at each break in the fence. The western fence was the weakness, and so it had become heavily-guarded. Everyone was where they were supposed to be. Kadeo stepped up to the eastern fence, still whistling, his notes getting louder and louder. It'd taken him years to figure out whistling with these lips, these teeth, and his one-of-a-kind tongue. He could do it pretty well, enough to get on peoples' nerves.
"How's it look?" he asked the two guards, laying his guns on the ground slowly.
"Fine..." one growled. Yeah, the whistling was getting on his nerves.
Kadeo patted each on the back. "You keep up the good work then." His hands slid down quickly, around their jaws, and the gloves gripped hard--SNAP!--both necks broken. He tossed each body around the fence quickly, hoping everyone's attention was still on the western hills. They really were the best way to attack at night, so obviously invaders would expect it to be well-guarded and use some other entry-point. Rictor didn't consider that someone could travel the other side of those hills, hurry to the northern point of the town, and cut through the barbed wire. Rictor also didn't consider that it was better to have friends work for him, rather than mercenaries who could be turned into inside-men. Yeah, it sucked more if they died fighting, but at least they were loyal.
Things could've gone as planned with just the eastern side open, but Kadeo needed another pair of bodies for... effect. Yeah, effect... He pulled the same trick, whistling, patting, snapping, on the guards at the southern gate. He could barely feel them with his gloves on, breaking down the senses of killing, so that it was almost like shooting them, but without all the noise. He'd shoot them once the fighting started--no one was going to check and see how they really died, at least not while it mattered. He started dragging the bodies to the center of town and caught the wary eyes of a few townsfolk peering out their windows. They could watch. What did they care? Kadeo turned and grinned when he caught the scent of the little boy from before, his gray-green skin curling back to show the razors again. Everyone should've been happy about what he was doing. The little boy had been there, but ducked down from his window at Kadeo's toothy smile.
By the time he'd finished all the arrangements, Kadeo could see his real employers off in the distance. He hadn't been in this position with Jimmy in a damn long time, and it was weird knowing that the cavalry, coming in to back him up, had nothing to do with Jimmy aside from a couple stragglers who'd broken off from Jimmy's gang. Rictor's men couldn't see them. Everyone alive had their eyes on the west and everyone dead couldn't see. The intruders came quietly at first, from the east and south, getting near the barbed wire... Waiting on Kadeo's signal.
They got no clue, Kadeo thought. For all they know, I told Rictor everything and it's all been set up to fuck with 'em. Rictor could've bought me off, but they're here just the same. He shook his head, tipped his hat, and stepped over to the eastern gate where his AKs laid against a beaten building. They probably got a backup plan for that. Or they should, heh. How smart are they, really? He lifted one AK, stepped over to the bodies laying on the ground, and made some noise. Taka-tak-tak!
Everyone made some noise then, every intruder coming in. A few blasts of gunpowder, shots fired from the few working guns, and the rising cries and roars of the charge. Over two dozen members of the Muratov Cartel charged in through openings in the barbed wire, hooting and hollering like they were on some big dancing parade, scaring the living shit out of everyone in Calridge except Kadeo. He watched the familiar faces charging to the center of town, and turned to see Rictor's men hurrying away from the western wall, toward the invaders.
They stopped dead in their tracks as they neared the four bodies, thrown down with their arms out and their weapons lying over them, to look like they'd died fighting, riddled with bullets from Kadeo's AK-47s. Across from Rictor's men (alive and dead) was the gathered group of the Muratov Cartel, in about half its total membership. Rictor had been right about the numbers--he'd just hired the wrong man to thin them.
A light skirmish that lasted less than two minutes began, but Kadeo didn't stay to watch it. The Muratov Cartel hadn't even brought their muscleman, Codine, and yet they were going to win any fight, if there was any at all to have with these guys. None of Rictor's mercenaries were going to get paid if they were dead and if they didn't run, they would certainly be dead. The skirmish didn't matter.
Kadeo had another part of the job to finish, and hurried up the steps of Rictor's building with his guns aimed forward. There were no bodyguards or mercenaries inside--Rictor insisted on living in a place that felt like a home, even if no one else in Calridge had the luxury. Kadeo passed two servant-slaves on his way to the office and checked their faces carefully to be sure they weren't Rictor in disguise, trying to escape. Rictor had to know who was doing this by now. Kadeo tucked one of his guns into his coat again, securing it on the leather straps, before reaching for the doorknob slowly.
The door creaked open and Kadeo barely had time to duck back as an axe flew at his head, its blade crunching into the wood of the door. Kadeo yanked the door back, keeping it held steady and stuck as Rictor grunted furiously, trying to free his axe blade. He felt the need to fight--his office windows would drop him eighteen feet and he wasn't the kind of Crosser who could get out of that unscathed. The room was his corner.
"Kadeo?" Rictor asked, still grunting. "What the fuck, Kadeo?"
"People don't ask me that as much as you'd think," Kadeo said. "Mind lettin' me in?"
"So you can kill me?" Rictor squeaked. He coughed to clear that embarrassing noise away. "Ahem... Fat chance."
"I could kill ya through the goddamned door if it pleases me." Kadeo released the doorknob and Rictor pulled the axe too hard, tossing himself on his ass. The axe slid over the floor, into the room's actual corner, and Kadeo had his AK on Rictor before he could even turn his head to judge the running distance to his weapon. "Ya wanna talk or should I plug ya?"
Rictor slowly got to his feet, his hands shaking, the spikes of his head trembling. They must've been weird hairs after all, in some way, and sensitive to Rictor's feelings. They told Kadeo that Rictor was a coward, that he'd only hired cowards before, and that he might've realized the risk he was taking in hiring Kadeo--not a coward--instead of his usual crew.
"What's there to talk about?" Rictor asked, sitting on his desk. "I paid you, didn't I? I paid you good."
"You don't pay good." Kadeo slammed the door shut and leaned against it. He didn't have very long. "You pay, but only as much as you feel. Not what the work is worth. If I'd really had to kill the Muratov Cartel, a run-of-the-mill shit brick like you wouldn't have the money to pay it." He smiled. "Did ya have any idea who you were dealin' with? And not just them, but me too. It'd take a lot of bullets to bring Muratov down, or his daughter. He's got guys who don't need clean water. He's got humans. No slaves. He's got people doin' kung-fu-ju-jitsu crap. He's got this sixteen-foot tall bruiser who could flatten this town in twenty minutes." Kadeo shook his head. "No, you didn't have a fuckin' clue what you were doin'. Not when ya hired me either.
"I need a lot of money, Rictor. I waste a lot of bullets, plus I got other needs that you can't fill." Kadeo watched Rictor's face turn friendly. "Don't pull the nicey-nice shit on me now, either. I know what you are. Anybody can fake decent, 'cept maybe me, and even I got my moments. Point is, money brings me what I need. It ain't my end though. You know how much money it is to get the bullets I need? Yeah, it's easy enough if there's some brainless dick on the street with a pistol that don't work, a bag full of clips, and a belly with no food. Give him some money, he'll give it all up. He figures he ain't gonna get through one clip before somebody else pegs him down. But I got other things to need too. Expensive stuff."
"What do you want?" Rictor asked, his put-on smile dying.
"Question is, what do you want?" Kadeo bobbed his gun up and down. "You could get killed. I'm bettin' Muratov's thinkin' that, and he might do it himself when he gets here if I haven't. We could figure out how to make ya live. Hell, maybe you could run this place still, or puppet it under Muratov."
Rictor shook his head. "That won't happen. I know how all this works."
"Why? Who'd ya fuck over to get this place?" Kadeo paused. "Muratov needs a town. They're gettin' a little too big to run from hovel to muddy shack each night, what with Domingo and Jimmy after them. They need a town--a fort to hold down."
"You said no one cared about them..." Rictor started, then turned away. "Right. Lying some more."
Kadeo raised a spiky eyebrow. "You're a dumbass, y'know that? Do ya feel it? Really dumb. Of course the big shots are after 'em. How'd you get into this?" He quickly raised his free hand. "Nevermind. I don't care. Time's up."
"What? No!" Rictor started forward. The sight of Kadeo's gun stopped him, his feet skidding on the floor, and he almost fell down again. He was as big as Kadeo, maybe even toned, but he wasn't bulletproof. Some Crossers had that talent, most didn't. "I don't..." He turned to the window slowly. "This is my town."
"For about two more minutes," Kadeo said. "They'll chase off your rats and come up here to see if I've done the job or if I'm waitin' for Muratov. They expect me to have it all done though... Y'know, I can't decide if I wanna kill you, if I should kill you, or if ya just deserve it." He stepped forward. "You don't even wanna bargain."
"I don't want any of this!" Rictor growled. He was still pretty feisty for a man staring down the barrel of a loaded automatic that he knew was in perfect working order.
The gun ain't his problem, Kadeo thought. It's me.
"I was just trying..." Rictor curled his hands into fists. "I wanted stability!"
"And you came to Earth?" Kadeo grinned, lifting the gun to the level of Rictor's head. If he tried to grab it, he'd get a face full of bullets. "Last chance, buckaroo. What's it gonna be?"
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Kadeo smiled as he crossed the barbed wire fencing of this crummy one-horse town... What was it called? He looked around and saw the crappy wooden sign with red, dripping paint: Calridge. Nothing about population--or anything. It could've easily been any other dusty, rotting town in the middle of the Nevada desert in 2038. Armed men stood at the three entrances--south, west, and east. Kadeo was allowed to pass, as usual. He didn't wonder what they thought of him. Nor did he worry much about the people running here and there, doing Rictor's business, trying to eke out their own pathetic lives, probably not caring at all who was the boss in this town.
The place was set up a bit smarter than Jimmytown. Jimmy's office/home/whatever sat at the back of his town... Which could also be the front if you wanted to come in that way, because there were no natural boundaries around it. Domingo had a similar idea, except he had a cliff at his back. Lacking a cliff, Rictor had made his base of operations at the center of Calridge. He was nowhere near the big shot in Nevada that Jimmy or Domingo were, but he certainly seemed to have a decent brain, at least for defense. Kadeo made a sure note of that.
"Hey mister, aren't you hot?" a little kid asked, running next to Kadeo. He was selling something.
"Buzz off, kid," Kadeo grumbled. How couldn't this kid be scared? Kadeo was seven-feet tall, wearing a black duster and a black hat on his gray-green head. He had little spikes coming out of the skin over his eyebrows and behind his jaw--surely that was scary. His eyes were black as night, for God's sake. Sure, the kid couldn't see the razor-sharp teeth lining his mouth, or the assortment of firearms hidden under Kadeo's coat... As he thought of it, Kadeo realized he might not seem too imposing to a little kid. Everyone was big to kids and in the post-Mess world, where Crossers didn't have to hide in human skin, kids probably didn't find weirdness all that frightening.
"Well mister, I just thought you might be interested in this bottle of clean water," the kid said, jogging along to keep up with Kadeo's long strides. "It's fresh rain water, hasn't touched the ground itself, never been contaminated."
Kadeo stopped in his tracks. He leaned low, letting the kid get a full view of his face, and grinned wide enough for the kid to get a look at his sharp pearly-whites. "Kid..." he said calmly. "Buzz. Off. Now."
The kid nodded quickly and ran back the way he'd come. Kadeo tipped the wide brim of his hat and smiled. He'd go see the poor kid later, after things had changed a little, but he was busy at the moment and couldn't be sitting by to trade precious money for crap he didn't need. Yeah, clean water tasted better, but unlike most others, he didn't need it. He could take the contaminated stuff, which flowed freely and probably filled that bottle. Unless the kid's family was extremely fortunate, Kadeo doubted they had any clean water to sell. People sold their kids for clean water sometimes.
"Heh," one armed guard named Haborsk chuckled from outside Rictor's place. It was a name from his own world.
"What's funny?" Kadeo asked, getting closer.
"Nothing. Just heard you were a softy for humans. Glad to see that's not true." Haborsk smiled, tilting his big machete. He was a Crosser and had no problem showing it: two long, green tentacles poked out of his back, laying over his arms. On the subject of arms, he had a little pistol at his hip, but Kadeo expected that it worked as badly as most people's. Some guys were lucky, some guys weren't. Some didn't need to worry about luck. "I wouldn't be able to trust our lives with someone who couldn't stick it to those assholes every now and then. Even harmless little shits like Ollie."
Kadeo nodded and smiled. He could be patient. Haborsk had been around since before the Mess, so some resentment was expected... That said, Kadeo didn't give a damn about that sort of fairness and figured the asshole wasn't worth messing things up right now. He had an appointment with Rictor.
The building was yellow stone or plaster or something like that--not wood or metal beyond simple frame and fortification work. The roof was losing its dull red shingles. The office sat on the second floor--another improvement over Jimmy. Seeing this, it became clear to Kadeo that Jimmy was only such a big shot now because he'd been around so damn long. Otherwise guys like Rictor here would have a better chance at the big time. Rictor was big himself--about the same size as Kadeo, with a little less bulk and a little more pleasant appearance. The spikes on his head actually looked a bit like hair, and he sure did smile a lot. Why shouldn't he? He was arguably a rising success in the whole Nevada gang war, and he'd just hired the unarguably best gunman... at all.
"Hey there!" Rictor said, getting up from his desk and coming around to meet Kadeo at the door. "How's my favorite shooter?"
"Good to see ya, Rictor," Kadeo said, shaking the man's hand before he even realized it. Rictor didn't care that he was shaking a dirty brown leather glove--a partner was a partner. "How'd our little excursion go? Oh, have a seat."
Kadeo pulled up a little wooden chair and sat next to the desk. He could've put his boots up--Rictor wouldn't have minded--but it didn't feel right. Best not to get too relaxed. "Fine. Fine enough..."
Rictor sat down and lifted his eyebrow. "Fine enough?"
Come on, you puss, Kadeo thought. Show me your dark side. "Yeah, enough," Kadeo said. "Trouble is, there were sure as shit more of 'em than you said."
Rictor leaned back in his seat--nice, leather, a lot like Jimmy's. "How many more?"
"About twice," Kadeo said. "There's only about a quarter of 'em left, but... That's a quarter that's comin' this way."
Rictor shot up again. "Here? They're coming?" He glanced at the windows. "How'd they know it was me?"
"Cause they're small potatoes... You don't know what I mean." Kadeo sat up. "Point of thing is, Jimmy and Domingo ain't gonna bother with 'em unless they got somethin' they want, and as far as I can tell, the only thing everyone really wants besides water is that DeMarco kid. Jimmy's got him, so they knew it wasn't him."
"But Domingo--"
"Doesn't give a shit. Unless they do somethin'... Which is what you did." Kadeo smiled. "Lucky you though. I was supposed to kill the lot of 'em and I'm feeling a bit generous today. I'll kill the rest for ya, but... Since this wasn't part of the bomb plan, I'm gonna' need a little extra compensation."
Rictor nodded, stepping toward the window. "You're pretty good." He chuckled lightly. He was a man used to laughing. "How much compensation are we talking?"
"Well, let's see..." Kadeo wiggled his fingers, acting like he needed to count it out there, but he had everything tallied and cut in his head before Rictor finished asking about it. "Hmm... There were lots of guys back there. Could've been rough for me, y'know? But, there's only a quarter left. How 'bout you pay me a quarter more?"
Rictor turned around and smiled again, a little too widely. "You left them alive, didn't you?"
Kadeo lowered his eyes. "What?"
"You left them alive and let them follow you back so you could get more money out of me." Rictor walked back to the desk, each step booming loud--he was doing it on purpose. "You thought you were being clever, huh?"
Kadeo stared into his face. It wasn't a bluff. "What of it?"
There it was, in the corner of Rictor's face as he turned slowly away: the shadow passing over it, the lines in his skin bending away from the happy creases around his eyes to the sallow sunken frame of someone who liked to act like the happy, decent guy. It looked as grim as the town he was strangling. "Do you think I'll pay you?"
"Yeah, kinda'," Kadeo said, still calm as could be. "Not like you got a choice, what with them comin' this way. I guess I could just make my way out, but... I think you'll be needin' me." He stood up, letting his duster drift over the seat as he walked to the door. "Figure out what ya want--now."
Rictor sighed deep, laying his hands on his desk. "Fine... You'll get it when you come back."
Yeah, right, Kadeo thought. "Deal," he said. "And keep in mind: This wouldn't have happened if you'd got your numbers straight." He left Rictor then, stepping back down the stairs to the guards. He didn't expect them to listen, but that didn't matter. He just needed them in the right places. As he hit the ground, he reached into the deep part of his coat and drew out his two AK-47s. Old-fashioned, maybe. Perhaps even cliche. But he liked them and they worked better than anyone else's guns in Calridge. That was what counted.
"Look alive, fuckface," he growled to Haborsk. "We got a good chunk of targets comin' in from the south. Get your people together. Or don't--whatever. Holin' up here would be best, but if your shits wanna stray, that's their call." Haborsk stood motionless and Kadeo got the feeling that he hadn't seen any real action in a long while. "Get to the fuckin' fence. I'll be coverin' your asses. Not that you deserve it."
Kadeo watched him hurry without a word, pointed one AK at the sky, and let loose. Taka-tak-tak! That would get anyone's attention, and the guards of Calridge needed some livening up. Get them tense, get them wondering what was going to happen next, let them know there we live guns in town before they saw the ones coming in from the south.
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"I've seen the future, brother: it is murder."
- Leonard Cohen
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"In reality, killing time is only the name for another of the multifarious ways by which Time kills us." - Osbert Sitwell
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"If a man put out the eye of another man, his eye shall be put out.
If he break another man's bone, his bone shall be broken.
If a man knock out the teeth of his equal, his teeth shall be knocked out."
- Laws 196, 197, and 200 of the Code of Hammurabi
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"It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both."
- Niccolo Machiavelli
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"When you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite."
- Winston Churchill
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"Be careful out there. There are things that go bump in the night. Actually, there are things that go 'Give me your wallet or I'll kill you' in the night."
- John Larroquet
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"It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets."
- Voltaire
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