Driving By Brail

DRIVING BY BRAIL
By: Raven Usher


RULES
　
DRIVING BY BRAIL is a game designed for your automobile. The object of the game is very simple; collect as many points as you can. To collect points, you must you your car to cause as much damage as possible to every day objects. The following lists contain point values for everything you hit. Be sure to check ALL the lists to gain the maximum points possible.
There must be a witness to verify all damage before awarding points. Your local police are usually happy to assist you in this area.
For any damaged suffered by your own vehicle, or yourself, use the lists to DEDUCT points from your total score. Also deduct points done to your car by other players.
You DO NOT collect points for damage done by the fire department when using the jaws of life.
If you should kill yourself, you forfeit all points collected earlier.
If something is not on the lists, you are SOL.
You do not get points for hitting ANY vehicle you own. Example: you cannot hit your 2nd car with your 1st car.
Your wife’s / husband’s car only qualifies for points collection after the divorce has been finalized. Boyfriends’ and girlfriends’ cars are fair game.
　
AGE OF CAR HIT
Current year 1,000
2 - 5 years 850
6 - 10 years 600
11- 15 years 300
16 - 25 years 350
Classic 2,500
Antique 3,000
　
MAKE OF CAR HIT
BMW 165
Buick 150
Cadillac 165
Chevy 150
Chrysler 150
Datsun 100
Delorian 300
Dodge 150
Ferrari 200
Ford 150
Geo 100
GMC 150
Harley Davidson 200
Honda 150
Isuzu 150
Jaguar 180
Kenworth 500
Kia 125
Kawasaki 80
Lamburgani 200
Land Rover 200
Lexus 200
Lotus 200
Mac 500
Mercedes 165
Mercury 150
Mitsubishi 150
Nissan 150
Peterbuilt 300
Plymouth 150
Pontiac 150
Porsche 170
Renault 120
Rolls Royce 300
Toyota 150
Volkswagen 150
Yamaha 80
　
TYPE OF CAR HIT
Family 50
mid-size 45
Compact 43
Subcompact 45
Sports 65
Hot rod 68
Street racer 70
Low rider 74
SUV 75
Dune buggy 73
Motorcycles
Light 25
Medium 35
Heavy 45
Dirt 50
Pick-up truck
½ ton 50
¾ ton 75
1 ton 100
Work truck 95
Diesel hauler
Long nose 250
Short nose 200
Sleeper 50
Bus
City 150
School 175
Construction vehicle 200
Van 150
Mini-van 300
RV 175
Luxury 195
Stock car 100
Drag racer 100
Farm vehicle 90
　
SPECIAL VEHICLES TO BE HIT
Taxi 100
Rental movers
Truck 120
Trailer 35
Tow truck 125
Ambulance 250
Fire truck 265
Police car
City 215
County 225
State 250
Private security 200
Armored truck 400
Mail truck 175
Armed forces
Air force 75
Army 60
Navy 75
Marines 85
Coast guard 60
Ice cream truck 80
Salvation army 73
Snow plow 75
Train 10 per car
T.V. truck 220
Tank 475
Trolley car 220
　
ADDITIONS TO CAR HIT
4 X 4 40
Cargo rack 15
Bike rack 10
Trailer hitch 5
Trailer 25
Extended mirrors 10
Fog lights 3 per light
Spot light 4
Emergency lights 10
Convertible top 20
T-top 15
Wire rims 45
Spinners 45
White walls 50
Dual tires 75
Flared fenders 60
Tinted glass 30
Window stickers 5 per sticker
Blower 20
Hood scoop 15
Hood ornament 5
Winch 10
Crash bumper 12
Bumper sticker 3 per sticker
Running boards 20
Musical horn 15
Role bar 30
Mud flaps 6
Spoiler 8
Custom paint 20
Stripes 10
　
ARTICLES CARRIED BY CAR HIT
Cars 150
Motorcycles 120
Boats 90
Bicycles 30 per bike
Lawn mower 35
Furniture 25
Luggage 15 per bag
Heavy machinery 95
Tools 52
Building materials 85
Lumber 80
Manufactured goods 95
Fresh produce 60
Food 70
Feed 65
Money 250
Jewelry 175
Musical instruments 95
Mirrors / glass 300
Mail 105
Plants 75
Fertilizer 60
Gravel/rocks/dirt 20
Alcohol 70
Junk/garbage 35
　
OTHER DETAILS OF CAR HIT
# of doors 15 ea
# of passengers 25 ea
Front wheel drive 35
All wheel drive 45
Engine in rear 65
Non-stock engine 65
Out of state plates 70
In transit/temp tags 40
Broken light 20
Brocken signal 30
Previously dented -10
Rusted -15
　
DAMAGE DONE TO CAR HIT
Broken head light 25
Broken tail light 25
Broken window 35 ea
Dented body 15
Flat tire 40
Lost tire 65
Bumper hanging or lost 45
Part of body lost 50
Radiator broken 55
Battery smashed 50
Scratch 3
Person thrown from car 25 ea
Car on side 100
Car on roof 150
Steering wheel mangled 80
Seat dislocated 60
Leaking fluids 95
Person under car 40 ea
Car on fire 250
Car pushed into 3rd car 60 + points for 3rd car
Car in ditch 50
Car off bridge or cliff 75
Car under water 75
Bent drive shaft 45
Wheels out of alignment 60
　
STATIONARY OBJECTS HIT
Traffic sign 20
Construction sign 12
Sale sign 10
Street name sign 12
Mile marker 13
Directional sign 10
Restrictive sign 20
Billboard 35
Railroad crossing sign 40
Parking meter 45
Traffic light 50
Street light 40
Telephone pole 40
Flag pole 50
Fire hydrant 70
Guard rail 35
Barricade 50
Toll booth arm 45
Car for sale 70
Parked car 75
Stalled car 60
Abandoned car 70
Stopped car 55
Tree 50
Bush 35
Garden 40
Crop field 50
Fence 65 per 10 feet
Bird bath 60
AC unit 80
Stairs 65
Garbage can 25
Lawn furniture 30
Toys 8
Bicycle 20
Picnic table 25
Garage sale 100
Telephone booth 150
Bench 80
Mail box 65
Newspaper stand 90
Lamp post 70
Sand / water barrel 85
Sculptures 95
Manikin 80
Ceiling support 98
Electrical transformer 175
Dumpster 125
Warning lights 85
Flares 100
Swing set 75
Sand box 75
Sliding board 80
Jungle gym 90
Water fountain 85
Tin can 5
Bottle 15
Dead animal 12
Rocks 10
Bricks 13
Wet cement 15
Hay bails 18
Debris 25
Curb 6
Bridge pillion 45
Pot holes 8
Tomb stone 75
Snow bank 50
Gas pump 175
Wall 200
Ditch 95
Quarry 195
Lake 80
Water tower 150
Amusement park ride 200
Windmill 200
Swimming pool
Full 100
Empty 150
Garage 80
Unfinished building 95
Mini-mart 100
Kennel 175
Pharmacy 250
Clinic 200
Hospital 225
School 350
Community center 300
Stadium 280
Restaurant 310
Grocery store 315
Department store 345
Shopping center / mall 350
Office building 360
Bank 300
Sky scraper 385
Police station 450
Fire station 450
Mobile home 250
Single family home 260
Apartment / duplex 250
Zoo building 295
Museum 280
Plate glass window 20
River 85
Video game 25
House of worship 285
Auction 275
Sewer 120
Elevator 100
Bleachers 112
Transmitter 95
Television 75
Gas station 125
Track (any kind of racing) 220
Betting window 106
　
　
ANIMALS HIT
Dog 50
Cat 60
Bird 30
Horse 65
Donkey 63
Goat 58
Squirrel 40
Sheep 55
Llama 65
Deer / Elk 60
Moose 65
Turtle 30
Porcupine 45
Pig 30
Cow 40
Rodents 25
Bear 75
Large wild cat 80
Snake 30
Skunk 70
Shellfish 30
Fish 45
Swimming mammal 85
Raccoon 50
Zoo animal* 85
　
*bonus 500 points if animal is in the zoo at the time of impact
　
TYPE OF PERSON HIT
Business person 150
Police officer 300
Fireman 250
Prostitute 175
Goth 190
Emo 150
Drug user 300
Mechanic 150
Shopper 85
Surfer 90
X-gamer 200
Dancer 175
Clown 175
Yuppy 200
Hippy 69
Doctor 215
Dentist 275
Traffic flagger 150
Nurse 220
Cowboy 195
Nerd 210
Professional athlete 205
G.I. 175
Waitress 85
Construction worker 120
Student 135
Priest 250
Laborer 90
Jogger/runner 200
Paper boy 150
Mail carrier 150
J-walker 75
Mime 120
Senior citizen 220
Nun 245
Car dealer 150
Actor/actress 210
Government official 225
Musician 200
Bum 53
Criminal 215
Chauffeur 100
Politician 195
Disc-jockey 175
Computer programmer 85
Cashier 85
Veterinarian 150
Veteran 300
Teacher 200
School administrator 150
Security guard* 100
　
　
* bonus 1,000 if in a mall at the time of impact
　
CHARISMA OF PERSON HIT
MEN
Heartthrob 170
Handsome 165
Masculine 155
Average 145
Maybe 130
OK 120
Sickening 125
Grotesque 145
WOMEN
Luscious 175
Beautiful 170
Good looking 165
Average 150
Possible 140
So-so 125
Ugly 130
Nauseating 150
　
WHAT PERSON HIT WAS DOING
Cycling 75
Skating 70
Skiing
Snow 65
Water 1,000
Boarding 65
Walking dog 80
Pushing stroller 90
In a wagon 68
Tanning 30
Swimming 200
Fixing a car 50
Inside a building 350
Picnicking 65
Playing sports 85
On a porch 38
Crossing street 15
Waiting for a bus 20
Walking 25
Running 50
Fighting 45
Standing still 20
Feeding animals 55
Reading 35
Sleeping 80
Playing game 30
Dancing 40
Talking 10
Picking nose 45
Horse play 175
Smoking
Tobacco 80
Anything else 120
Having sex 300
Picketing/protesting 150
Painting 35
Washing windows 45
Mowing lawn 40
On playground 65
Using drugs 110
Drinking 50
Watching TV 70
Watching a movie 75
AGE OF PERSON HIT
Infant 150
Toddler 175
Pre-school 200
Adolescent 250
Pre-teen 275
Teenager 300
Young adult 325
Middle age 280
Over the hill 255
Senior 200
　
DISABILITY OF PERSON HIT
Glasses 5
Blind 75
Deaf 75
On crutches 80
In wheelchair 78
Wearing cast 20
Neck brace 35
Walks w/ cane 10
Missing appendage 70
Parking permit 100
　
　
DAMAGE TO PERSON HIT
Abrasions 20
Concussion 50
Bleeding 30
Eyes dilated 35
Internal damage 45
Broken finger/toe 15
Broken arm 25
Broken leg 45
Broken hand/foot 20
Broken back 70
Broken neck 80
Joint dislocated 25
Brain damage 85
Lost teeth 15 ea
Broken ribs 65
Broken hip 65
Broken clavicle 40
Broken nose 20
Amnesia 45
Requires help evac 185
Unconscious 80
Missing appendage 100
Dead 1,000
No damage -50
You may reward yourself 1 (one) point for every $10.00 on the person hit’s emergency room bill. You must attain a copy of the bill prior to rewarding points.
　
BONUSES
Hitting an object while falling off a bridge or cliff 2,000
If ground is missed after falling 15,000
Driving completely THROUGH a building 4,000
If driver is not in offensive car -3,500
No damage to your car 670
No damage to object hit -300
Collision occurs on a holiday 3,000
Collision occurs during a full moon 2,000
　
　
RARITIES TO BE HIT
Loc Ness Monster 50,000
UFO 75,000
Bigfoot 40,000
Ghost 80,000
Cloud 2,000
Dust storm 1,500
Mountain 1,000
President 60,000
Dinosaur 90,000
Extraterrestrial body 60,000
Government assassin 70,000
Camera crew 15,000 (must hit ALL members of the crew)
Grand canyon 1,500
Airplane 7,500
Helicopter 7’500
Antichrist 150,000 (cannot award these points for an ex- husband/wife unless s/he bears the “666” mark)
Space shuttle 60,000
Submarine under water 4,000
　
　

A Time for Justice

A TIME FOR JUSTICE
　
"Do you want to live forever?" Lane said as he cocked the hammer on his Colt. He winked at Bradley and burst out of the door firing his hair triggered gun. Lane got off two shots before the air exploded into mayhem. There was an entire band of outlaws outside surrounding the small house. Bradley had the rifle in his hands. He knew that Lane would be cut down in a matter of seconds. He heard Lane yell over the gunshots. Then there was silence. Lane was done for. Bradley pushed open the door and stood on the threshold. He looked around at the bandits that had turned the tables on him and his deputy.
"Drop the gun sheriff," said a voice in the crowd. "Your trigger man is dead. Put the rifle down and you still got a chance of walking out of here."
Bradley looked at Lane. No man could have lived through that. No man except one. Bradley lifted the rifle. Uncountable shots rang out and ...........
........ Darrin sat up. He was covered with sweat. It was the nightmare again. Another cry from the past creeping in on the present. Darrin kicked his legs out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. He tried to force the remnants of the dream out of his head. He looked at the clock. 2:07 am. Right on time. The two o'clock nightmare, watching Lane get killed.
"Darrin?" said a voice from the other side of the bed. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"
"I'm fine," Darrin said. "Go back to sleep."
The girl kneeled on the bed behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. She kissed his ear. "Was it another nightmare?"
"No, it was the same nightmare," Darrin said.
She wrapped her arms around her chest. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"
Darrin turned to look at her. She was wearing a lace teddy that could cheer up any man. Her name was Debbie. She was the only likeness of Mary that he had ever come across. She was the only one he allowed himself to get close to him since........... then.
He smiled at her and she took him into her embrace. Soon, he began to forget about his deputy, Lane; killed by the gang of out laws. He forgot that, if he concentrated, his memory spanned more than two centuries. He returned to where he was now, who he was now. He was not the sheriff of an unbridled western town any more. He was a cop with the DEA. And he wasn't chasing horse thieves. He was after drug dealers.
In the morning, Debbie found Darrin digging through an antique chest. It was his prize possession. "What are looking for?"
"A way to stop a nightmare." Darrin said.
He caught the kiss she blew to him as she left for work. She was an emergency room nurse at a nearby hospital. They met the night Darrin's partner got shot. Darrin and his partner had the midnight shift. The were watching a factory suspected of being used for a trafficking operation. Darrin was putting an entry into the log book when he heard two pops. He looked up and saw a pair of holes in the windshield, bullet holes. One bullet hit the seat between them. The other hit Darrin's partner in the chest.
Another shot hit the back of the car as Darrin sped away. He made it to the hospital in a matter of minutes, but it was too late. The bullet had pierced his partners heart. He was dead before the third shot hit the car.
Darrin was still standing outside the ER doors when Debbie's shift ended. She stopped to make sure he was all right and ended up inviting him over for coffee. During coffee he realized why he was so relaxed around her. She looked so much like Mary, it was haunting. Coffee ended when he abruptly fell asleep on her couch.
After that they got closer and closer, until she finally asked him to move in with her. All she asked for, in return for her love, was the promise that no one would carry him into her emergency room the way he carried in his partner. It was a promise that Darrin could easily keep. Darrin smiled at the thought of her and continued to search through the chest.
What Darrin was searching for was at the bottom of the old chest under; a vietnamese crossbow, a korean flag, a german lugar, a WWI rifle, a box containing six badges, and an old Colt. It was a picture of Bradley, Lane and Mary. It was taken when photography was as new as the land that Bradley and Lane were trying to bring a little justice to. Darrin shook his head at the vast amount of time that seemed to just slip away.
* * * * * * *
Sometimes it seemed to Bradley as if he had been alive since the beginning of time. He new it wasn't true. It just seemed that way. When he allowed his mind to open, he whisked himself back through time. He could remember his mother. She was tall with bright blonde hair that hung well past her waist. She was broad of hip and shoulder. She was elegant in all her movements. Her eyes were dark and deep and mysterious. Her gaze could hold him in check whenever she talked to him. He remembered how she always told him that they were special people. He never understood what she meant back then. She assured him that some day he would.
Bradley only asked about his father once. His mother told a story of a tall, strong, handsome man with blonde hair and a full blonde beard. He was a man of the sea, a great captain. He and his men would sail their long wooden boats out into the northern sea for weeks at a time. One time he paddled back to shore on a single wooden plank. They had been caught in a storm and their ship broke up. He was the only survivor.
One night he packed up his wife and his sparse belongings, and headed out for a new land. A land far across the ocean that he had found on an adventure a year before. He gave up the sea, and they traveled a land that was as vast as the ocean. They traveled until they found a mountain range that reached clear to the heavens. They climbed into the mountains to make their home. They spent many, many years living under the trees, alone and happy.
The winter when she was heavy with child, was a harsh one. The snows came early, before the stores were fully stocked. He went out one morning to find game, and never returned. He had been master of the sea, but the land had mastered him.
She had her baby alone. As soon as Bradley was strong enough to travel, she took her son and left the mountains. She traveled back the way she had come until she found more people in a town near the sea. In time, she found a house and set her mind to raising her child.
One evening, when he was grown, he returned home to find the house in flames. The fire was devastating. It reduced the house to ashes, along with Bradley's mother. He found only pieces of bones among the cinders. Bradley raised a headstone to his mother's memory. Before leaving town, he donated the land to the church on the condition that it be used as a cemetery. He didn't want his mother to be alone.
He headed west, following the path his father did. He wanted to see the mountains where he was born. The old paths his mother had told him about had become heavy roads where wagon trains had worn scars across the land. A great many people were driving westward looking for a new life, a fresh start.
The trail that Bradley chose led him to a small town called Martinsville. It was small compared to some other city's, but it was still a thriving, growing town. There were more than two hundred people living inside the city limits and every wagon train that passed through left a few more. Then there were the farmers and ranchers that had claimed the land on every side of Martinsville. They all kept a steady flow of people and goods moving through the town. There was even talk of the railroad coming through.
Unfortunately, settlers weren't the only people to come to Martinsville. They had more than their fair share of outlaws and bandits. The only law in Martinsville was a lone sheriff. He had a hard time keeping on top of it all. For safety's sake, the sheriff's office was right across the street from the bank.
As luck would have it, the day that Bradley arrived in town was the same day that a pair of outlaws tried to hold up the bank. It was near sunset. Bradley had left the saloon and was looking for the hotel. A pair of gunshots inside the bank brought the sheriff running across the street with guns drawn. He was almost to the bank's door when the barrel of a shotgun pushed out the door and fired. The sheriff fell. Bradley was standing right next to the door. Bradley saw the shotgun turning towards him and his reflexes took over. He dropped his bags and grabbed the barrel of the shotgun, pulling it out of the outlaw's hands. He turned the gun over and hit the bandit in the face with the stock. Two more shots rang out. Bradley felt a sting in his chest. The second bandit stepped out of the door. Bradley aimed the shotgun and fired. Bradley had never fired a gun before, and the force of it pushed him backwards.
Inside the bank, one gunman was dead and the other had a broken jaw. The bank owner, two tellers, and five customers witnessed the whole thing. They all thought that Bradley had been shot, but there wasn't a scratch on him. It didn't take long for a crowd to gather. Everyone was calling Bradley a hero. The mayor shook Bradley's hand and paid for his hotel room. The next morning, the town's one page newspaper recounted the whole ordeal from the witness's stories. Suddenly, everybody knew who Bradley was. Complete strangers would shake his hand and congratulate him. The bank owner gave Bradley a one hundred dollar reward for stopping the thieves.
The townsfolk were convinced that Bradley was a hero and they tried to pay for all his expenses. A gambler picked up his tab at the saloon. A rancher and his family insisted that he have dinner with them. The barber refused to take his money. It was enough that he be able to tell the story that Bradley sat in his chair. About the third day, Bradley decided it was time to move on and find his mountain. He was packing up his belongings when the mayor knocked on the door of his room.
"The inn keeper tells me your movin' out today," the mayor said.
"Yep," Bradley said. "I've lost too much time already. I've got to reach the rockies before winter sets in."
"That doesn't leave you a lot of time. It's august already. You'll be hard pressed to make it over the pass before the first snowfall."
Bradley was still packing. "Who said I was going over the pass?"
"Don't tell me you playin' at bein' a mountain man," the mayor said. "Those boys don't live too long."
"I'm looking for something," Bradley said.
"Well, can your trip hold off for half an hour?" the mayor asked. "I got somethin' to discuss with you."
"What's that?"
"Walk with me. It's too nice a day to spend inside."
Bradley looked at the mayor. He was intent on getting a piece of Bradley's time. That much was clear. "All right. Let's go have this talk."
The mayor kept quiet until they were outside. He spread his arms and took a deep breath. "This town has got the best air in the west. It's a great place to live, Bradley. There's plenty of room for whatever kind of life you want." The mayor was leading Bradley down the street. "Martinsville is growin' fast. A lot of people are settelin' in here. And why are they stoppin' here? because there ain't no trouble in Martinsville."
"Just the occasional bank robbery."
The mayor stopped walking. They were across the street from the bank. "All right," the mayor said. "I'll admit it. We have our share of problems. But no more than any other town." The mayor opened a door and walked through it.
Bradley followed the mayor. They were in the sheriff's office. "What are we doing here?"
"You've made a hell of an impression on the folks in Martinsville," the mayor said. "I've never seen so many people like one man so much. You'll be missed if you leave."
"Get to the point, mayor." Bradley was fast loosing interest in the conversation.
"It was a terrible thing that happened to sheriff McGreggor," the mayor kept rambling. "Men like him ain't easy to come by. The town needs a new sheriff, Bradley. We need a man that stays cool under pressure; someone who's not afraid to stand up for what's right. We need the kind of man that can take a shotgun out of the hands of a bank robber."
"What makes you think I can be a sheriff?" Bradley asked. "I was just in the right place at the right time."
"That's true," the mayor said. "But think about why you did what you did. Bein' at the right place at the right time is only half the picture. You could have just stood there and watched those men ride outta town with all the money in the bank. But you didn't. You didn't have any interest in this town or our bank. You did it because you knew it was right."
"Your wrong," Bradley protested. "I wasn't thinking about anything. It was all reflex."
"Most people's reflexes would have told them to run for cover," the mayor reasoned. "You're a special man, Bradley. This town needs you."
Bradley was quiet for a moment. A 'special man' the mayor had said. Suddenly his mother's voice was ringing in his ears, telling him they were special people and some day he would know why. Then he thought about the night he stopped the bank robbers. The pistol had gone off and Bradley had felt a sharp pain in his chest. The witnesses said they thought he had been shot. He thought about the new hole in his shirt just to the right of the third button. Bradley had been shot. But, anyone examining his chest wouldn't even find a scar.
The mayor saw Bradley thinking it over and decided to sweeten the pot. "The job pays fifteen dollars a week. There's a bed and a kitchen in the back room. There's a Pinto in the stables and a good saddle."
The mayor opened a desk drawer and pulled out a gun belt with a pair of pistols in it. "These were sheriff's McGreggor's. You'll need them for this job."
"I don't know."
"Look Bradley," the mayor said. "The rocky mountains ain't what they use to be. Whatever the gold miners haven't dug up, the wagon trains have trampled down. Whatever it is your lookin' for, I'm sure you can find it here." The mayor held out a badge to Bradley. "We need you."
Bradley looked at the badge and then at the mayor. He took a long pause before taking the badge. He stared at it, not fully knowing why he accepted it. "I'll try it for a while. But this is only temporary."
"That's what McGreggor said, six years ago," the mayor said. "The keys to the cells are in the desk. Oh, and sheriff, welcome to Martinsville."
* * * * * * *
Bradley's first two months as sheriff went fairly smoothly. There was a minor scuffle between a rancher and the black smith over the price of fixing a wagon wheel. Otherwise, all had been quiet. Until,....... Bradley had just taken off his gun belt and was about to kick off his boots when there was a frantic knocking at the door.
"Sheriff! Sheriff, come quick!" It was a woman's voice.
Bradley opened the door. It was the barmaid from the Red Lion Inn, a hotel and saloon at the other end of main street. She was flushed and very excited. ""What's the matter?"
"A couple of hands from the McClure ranch are tearing up the saloon. You gotta come quick!" she said.
The barmaid was so frantic that she had Bradley running full speed down the street as soon as he had his gun belt fastened around his waist. He could hear the scuffle before he was half way down the street. The whole saloon was consumed in a massive brawl. Bradley had just stepped through the door when a whiskey bottle shattered on the wall to the left of the door. He started pulling people out of the brawl one at a time. He traded a few blows, but managed to get through the most of it unscratched. Finally, he got down to the two that had started it all. They were trail hands. One was Bradley's size. The other was the size of Badley's horse. The smaller one wiped a trickle of blood from his lip as he stared at Bradley. The big one was rubbing his knuckles.
"I think it's about time the two of you call it a night," Bradley said.
"We're still thirsty, sheriff," said the smaller of the two.
"Have a drink when you get home." Bradley was not looking forward to trading blows with these two.
"We'd rather stay here," the trail hand said.
"You can go home," Bradley said. "Or you can go to jail. The choice is yours."
"I don't think we'll go to jail," came the answer. "Cause you ain't big enough to get us there."
They rushed at Bradley. Bradley brought a knee up and caught on man in the stomach. The other man planted a fist on Bradley's jaw. Bradley swung back and connected. That's when everything turned into a swirling storm of fist. Bradley lost his bearings on where he was standing. He kept swinging at whatever came close enough. Then he felt a crushing grip from behind that kept his arms pinned. The bigger one had him in a bear hug. Bradley looked at the other one. He was bleeding from the nose and mouth, and one eye was nearly swollen shut.
"You're pretty good with your fist," he said.
Bradley kicked him in the groin. "I'm good with my feet too."
Bradley struggled against the bear hug as the trail hand got back to his feet. He threw a punch at Bradley's stomach. Bradley braced himself for the hit, but it didn't connect. A large man, as tall as Bradley but wider in the shoulders, had caught the fist in mid-swing. His clothes looked worn from a lot of traveling. He wore a wide brimmed black hat, and a red scarf around his neck.
"You boys don't seem to have much resect for the law," the stranger said.
"Who the hell are you?" asked the man with his fist caught in a vise.
"I'm the guy that keeps the odds even." He tossed the trail had against the wall. Then, he brought a blow across the big man's face that broke the bear hug on Bradley. Three blows from Bradley and the smaller man was on the floor. When Bradley turned around, he saw that the stranger had the big man on the floor as well. The barmaid brought out some rope to tie the hands of the trouble makers. Then Bradley and the stranger took them to jail.
"Have a seat and rest a spell," Bradley said as he took off his gun belt, again. "I'm Bradley. Thanks for lending a hand. I thought I was about to loose my teeth."
"You gave those two a better whollop than the entire rest of the saloon. That was pretty damn good, especially considering it was two to one. My name's Lane," he said holding out his hand.
Bradley shook his hand. "You did good yourself."
"You did the work," Lane said. "I just helped clean up the mess."
"What brings you to Martinsville, Lane?"
"I was hooked up with a wagon train until my horse went lame. I'm hoping I can find work to earn enough money to buy a new horse. Then I'll get back on the trail to California."
"A wagon train is going to be hard pressed to make it over the pass before winter sets in," Bradley said. "It's still fall down here, but the mountains could be covered with snow already."
"I'll wait for the next train," Lane said. "It'll take that long to save enough for a horse anyway. The party I was with left a few days ago. They'll be alright. That Mr. Donner knows his way around the mountains. He'll get his people through well enough."
"I hope so," Bradley said. "A lot of people around here think that we're in for a hard winter."
"It's always a hard winter," Lane said.
Lane and Bradley had been talking for about an hour when there was a knock on the door. "Oh, what now?" Bradley said, rising form his chair.
It was the barmaid again. "Don't tell me it's another brawl," Bradley said.
"No," she answered. "I've got dinner this time, for you and your new deputy."
"Deputy?" Lane asked.
"The whole saloon is talking about how the two of you broke up the brawl," she said placing the tray on Bradley's desk. "Mr. Granger over at the general store said he knew you were a lawman the second you stepped into his store."
"Who sent the food over?" Bradley asked.
"It's from me," she said. "I figured that you'd be hungry after all that."
Bradley said, "Thank you very much, miss ......"
"Mary. I'll leave you to eat in peace."
The door closed and Lane and Bradley laughed at each other. "Well, deputy," Bradley said. "Pull off that cover and lets see what's for dinner."
They just started eating when the mayor burst though the door. "Bradley, do you have a moment?"
"Sure. Come on in. This is Lane."
"How come you didn't tell me you hired a deputy?" the mayor asked.
Lane started to laugh again.
"I didn't hire him," Bradley said. "He just lent me a hand with a couple of McClure's boys that were raising a ruckus."
"So you didn't hire a deputy." The mayor said.
"Not yet."
"What do you mean?"
"Well mayor, if it wasn't for Lane here I would have got my ass kicked," Bradley said. "This town isn't exactly small any more. It's too big for one man to handle. Maybe if the last sheriff had some help he'd still be alive today."
"I suppose you have a point," the mayor said. "There's not much money in the budget for another lawman though. Can you work for six dollars a week Mr. Lane?"
"I think I can live on that."
After the mayor left, Lane asked, "What the hell just happened?"
"You found work," Bradley answered.
"I guess I did," Lane said. "It's a weird way to find a job though."
"Believe it or not," Bradley said. "It's damn close to the way I found it."
* * * * * * *
Bradley kept the hands from the McClure ranch locked up for four days, until Mr. McClure found time to come into town and pay for the damages to the saloon. He had Lane escort them to the town limits, just in case. He also banned them from the saloon for two months. Mr. McClure made them bed down in the barn until they worked off the money he spent to get them out.
After they left, Bradley went to the saloon for dinner. He sat in the back, away from the bar and the poker tables.
"Good evening, sheriff." Mary ambled up to his table.
"Good evening."
She had on a different smile than the one she wore for the rest of her customers. "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like one of those wonderful dinners you serve up here."
"Would you like anything particular?"
"Whatever's on the stove. Surprise me."
She giggled. "I'll be right back."
Mary disappeared into the back room. She emerged a short while latter carrying a large pitcher and a pair of mugs. She sat down next to Bradley and filled the mugs. "You're going to enjoy this. It's irish ale. An irishman on the last wagon train sold three casks to old Mr. Buckley. It's smoother than whiskey and it taste better."
She picked up one mug and handed the other to Bradley. They thunked the mugs together and both said, "Cheers."
"You're right. This is good," Bradley said.
"Do you ever get a night off from being sheriff, Bradley." It was the first time anyone had used his name since he took the job as sheriff. He liked the way it sounded when she said it.
"I haven't had much reason to take a night off," Bradley answered.
"Well, to tell the truth, I make a much better dinner at home than anything you'll get here. Maybe some night you can come over and I'll show you what I can do."
"I just may take you up on that sometime."
"How about tonight?" She was very persuasive. "All they have on the stove back there is a pot of stew that's barely good enough for the boys on McClure's ranch. You deserve better."
She was intoxicating. Bradley sat there getting drunk on her.
"Well, Bradley, what do you say?"
"I say it sounds good to me. I just have to walk by the office and let Lane know where I'll be."
"I'll get my wrap."
After dinner, Mary and Bradley talked until the wee hours of the morning. Mary went to the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on when Bradley abruptly fell asleep on her couch. She pulled a blanket off her bed, sat beside Bradley, leaned against his chest and went to sleep in his arms.
Bradley awoke with a wide yawn and a long stretch. Mary was curled up like a baby with her head in his lap. He brushed the hair away from her face. He spent half an hour looking at her. She rolled over and stretched. Her eyes opened to look straight into his. Their gazes locked and they swam in each other. She pushed herself up to her knees and looked at him closer. Neither of them were breathing. Their stare turned into a kiss, that turned into an embrace. The embrace carried them to her bed, where they missed breakfast.
It wasn't long until Mary's small house became Bradley's home as well. Word about Bradley's involvement with Mary spread fast. Many of the rowdys that frequented the saloon stopped coming in. No one wanted to make any trouble for the sheriff's woman. Especially since everybody already knew about what happened to the last two that started a ruckus. They were two of McClure's biggest men, and the sheriff whipped them like they were school boys.
It was early spring. The new leaves had just started to come out on the trees. Mary and Bradley had just missed breakfast, again, when there was a hard knock on the front door. It was McClure. He had two of his men with him.
"Sheriff, we gotta big problem," McClure said.
"Come on in and tell me about it," Bradley said, buttoning his shirt.
McClure took off his hat as he stepped across the threshold. "We got horse thieves in the area."
Bradley stumbled with his buttons. "What?"
"Last night someone stole nine horses off my ranch," McClure said. "Three of my own out of the barn, and six belonging to some of my boys that were kept out in the corral."
"How many do you have left?" Bradley asked.
"All together, twenty-nine."
"Nobody heard anything."
The door flew open without a knock. "Bradley!" Lane looked flushed, like he'd been running hard. "We got trouble. Half the town is in an uproar."
"Now what?"
Lane struggled to catch his breath. "People have been coming by all morning telling me about stolen horses. There's four missing out of the livery stable, and more than a dozen from different people."
"And nine from the McClure ranch," Bradley added.
"They hit your place too?" Lanes asked.
"They sure did." McClure said.
Bradley sat down and took a deep breath. The four men in the room stared at Bradley as he sat and thought. Bradley looked up and saw Mary standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He realized for the first time that he had something to loose. "Do you have any trackers on that ranch of yours, McClure?"
"Why the hell would I need trackers to herd cattle?"
"Go back to your ranch and send me anyone you got that can read any kind of sign. Lane, you do the same in town. Two dozen horses got to leave some kind of tracks. Follow anything that leads out of town, even if it's only a couple of tracks. This has all the makings of an organized group and they'll all have to come together some time." Bradley paused. "Tell anybody that finds anything not to do nothing 'til I get there. Now move, before it rains and we loose the trail."
The four men bolted out the door. Bradley got dressed without speaking. He was strapping on his gun belt when Mary spoke up.
"Bradley."
"Yea."
"I'm scared. This is more than you've ever had to deal with before." Her voice was shaky.
"It'll be all right," Bradley said. "Lane and I will have plenty of help."
"But what if something bad happens?" She was about to cry. "What if you don't come back to me?"
Bradley hugged her tight. "I'll come back. I promise."
"How can you be so sure?" Her tears had started.
"When I get back," he comforted her. "We'll go out and buy you a wedding dress."
She looked up at him. "Really."
"I promise."
Lane found two trackers in the saloon. They said they were on their way north to join up with the calvary. It took less than half a day to find the tracks of a large group of horses heading southwest towards the canyons. They followed the tracks into a narrow gorge. They could hear people and animals at the end of the chasm.
Bradley looked up. The walls of the gorge were steep and high. The path they were on was the only way in or out. If any of these bandits got behind them, there would be no way out. "Lane," Bradley whispered. "I don't like this. let's back out of here and come back a little help."
Lane turned around. He looked like he was about to say something when he stopped and stood up strait. Bradley was confused until he heard it. Someone behind him cocked a gun. Bradley turned. Both trackers had their guns drawn. They were laughing.
"Move."
Lane and Bradley walked into the camp at gunpoint. There was a large corral that held the stolen horses. A small shed was six feet to Bradley's right. A larger building was at the other side of the camp. Bradley guessed that it was a bunk house. There were a few tents scattered here and there. A fire was burning next to an unhitched chuck wagon. A man with a white beard was stirring a pot.
"Well, well. If it isn't the good sheriff Bradley, and his little sidekick." It was a deep booming voice that seemed familiar. "Do you remember me, sheriff? Do you remember making me look like a fool?"
It was the horse sized cowhand that tore up the saloon. "I remember you."
"McClure fire us the second we worked off the money you took from him."
"You shouldn't break things you can't pay for." Bradley said.
"I'm about to break you."
Lane grunted.
"You got something, deputy."
"Yea." Lane's hand sped for his gun. He fired three shots and pulled Bradley towards the small shed. The cow hand and both trackers were on the ground. Lane had killed all three.
Bradley had barely closed the door when the gorge burst into a shower of gunshots. Lane and Bradley laid on the floor of the shed. Bullets were shredding the shed. As soon as the shooting stopped Bradley started firing the rifle out the door. Lane took one of Bradley's guns and was shooting double fisted out the window.
Bradley and Lane emptied their guns quickly. They laid on the floor trying to reload as another borage from the bandits cut up the shed. Bradley looked at his deputy. Lane was laughing.
"What the hell do we do now?" Bradley asked.
"Do you want to live forever?" Lane said as he cocked the hammer on his Colt. He winked and burst out the door firing his hair triggered gun. Lane got off two shots when the air exploded into mayhem as the outlaws that had them surrounded fired back. Bradley had the rifle in his hands. He knew that Lane would be cut down in seconds, but what else could he do? He heard Lane yell over the gunshots. Then there was silence. Lane was done for. Bradley pushed opened the door and stood on the threshold looking at the bandits that had turned the tables on him and his deputy.
"Drop the gun sheriff," said a voice in the crowd. "Your trigger man is dead. Put the rifle down and you still got a chance to walk out of here."
Bradley looked at Lane. No man could have lived through that. No man except one. Bradley lifted the rifle. Uncountable shots rang out and Bradley just stood there taking his time, picking off the bandits one at a time. When the bank robber shot him, he felt a sharp sting. Now he felt nothing. He started walking forward. When his rifle ran out of bullets, he pulled his guns. Then he pick up guns from dead bandits. He shot every man that moved, even the ones that were shot and groping on the ground.
When the dust settled and the echo died, Bradley was the only thing still standing on two legs. Bradley's clothes were cut to ribbons. The bullet holes were all nearly healed already. His sight had even come back to his right eye. Half the horses got shot in the cross fire. The white bearded man had fallen across his cooking fire and was being cooked himself. The shed had fallen over. Lane was face down in the dirt.
Bradley found new clothes in the bunkhouse. He took the two best horses and a good saddle. He loaded the second horse with all the food and water it could carry. He scoured the whole camp for all the money he could find. Finally, he found his guns. He buried them with his badge as deep as he could in his saddle bag. It was pitch black when he mounted his horse.
Bradley sat on his horse at the open end of the pass. To his left was the road to his mountain. To the right was the way back to Martinsville, back to Mary. He thought about Lane, laying in the dirt. He should have buried his friend. He thought about the gun fight. How would he explain it? No one would believe a word he said, no matter how he tried to make it sound believable. His last thought was about Mary. He loved her. Leaving her would be as bad as dying. But if she got scared and she left him, it would be worse than death.
Bradley swallowed hard and decided that it was better if all of Martinsville thought that he and Lane both died in the shoot out. He whispered a quiet apology to his lost love. A single tear rolled down his face, and he turned his horse towards his father's mountain.
Bradley spent his first winter in a deep cave that was long enough to keep the snow out. By his second winter, he had a strong cabin built. Winters blended into winters, that blended into winters. The saplings that were too small for Bradley to build his cabin with, grew into tall sturdy trees that became larger than the logs that made his walls. Civilization creeped in on the mountains. Eventually, there was no path or hillside that didn't know the footsteps of people.
Bradley went back to the cities. He watched times change, cities grow, and the world declare war on itself time and time again. Through ever moving time Bradley wore many badges, and carried many guns. It was the latest siege on mankind that was the worst that bradley ever saw. Until now, wars only killed warriors; outlaws only shot at lawmen; and the lines in the sand were clearly drawn.
But now a new plague had fallen. It killed without cause or focus. Criminals killed by-standers that didn't even know they were being shot at. Children could be victims or accomplices. Lawmen couldn't trust the average person on the street. Schools became war zones. The laws of war no longer existed. It was madness.
Bradley knew he had to fight. The drugs that were pouring in were killing everything. He had to make a difference again. He invented a new identity for himself. When he joined the DEA, his name was Darrin Addler. He soon proved himself to be one of the most valuable officers that the DEA ever had.
In June of 1992, Darrin, along with a handful of other hand picked men, were assigned to locate and apprehend a drug lord calling himself John Wayne. The area John Wayne controlled included; New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and Oklahoma. In comparison to the other prominent cartels, it was a small area. However, John had a reputation for being exceptionally brutal. His brand of control was a modern rival to the inquisition.
To date, John Wayne had been a master at eluding the police. In 1990 a picture surfaced that was allegedly John Wanye. The police ran a carbon dating test on it and found out that it was one hundred years old. The picture was promptly dismissed as a hoax.
Darrin and his team were assigned to the case after John had five Texas senators shot. The senators were leading a crusade against drugs and calling for strong sentencing, especially for drug related crimes. Their platform was, "Making Texas safe for decent people again". They were gunned down on the steps of the capitol building. John left a note in the brim of his signature black hat. He left a black hat with all his victims. The note said that there was no place safe.
In the first two years of Darrin's pursuit of John, the DEA had arrested forty-two of John's people. They confiscated cocaine, pot, and crystal meth all worth an estimated street value of over twenty-eight million dollars. Most importantly, they managed to cut John's distribution by twenty-five percent.
On the down side, DEA, justice, FBI, ATF, and a number of police departments had lost men. Nineteen officers had been killed. Another five officers were permanently disabled from their wounds. Three officers, including a female undercover DEA agent, were missing. The law enforcement agencies cheered the successes. The media condemned the reckless loss of life. Government people argued both side, privately and publicly. Only the Texas senate was without comment.
Darrin was the last surviving member of the team that was sent after John Wayne. Darrin knew that John was operating out of the ware house he was watching the night his partner, the second to last survivor, was killed. After the shooting, Darrin backed off for a while. He set up long distance surveillance on the warehouse. Darrin and his new team photographed every living thing that came or went from the ware house for six months. The fed every picture into a computer for comparison. At the end of the six month watch, the DEA had a portfolio of twelve people that visited the warehouse. They were all regulars, averaging three to four visits a week. They always traveled in groups of no less than four, and were in a different vehicle every time.
Darrin hung an eight by ten picture of each person on the walls of his team's squad room. They did all their work staring at the men they were after. Each of the team members had a binder containing copies of the pictures at their house. Those twelve people controlled the drug traffic for four states. If darrin could catch them all, it would be the greatest bust of all time.
It was during the beginning of the surveillance that Darrin started having his nightmares. At first, Darrin didn't give them any thought, until they didn't stop. He wanted to talk to Debbie about them, but couldn't. He knew she would never believe that he had been a sheriff in 1880. At first he thought it was guilt at leaving Mary without so much as a good bye. Now that he was living with Debbie, maybe his subconscious was kicking him in his conscience. But Mary wasn't in the dream. Then he thought that it had something to do with the ambush. Lane had gotten killed when they tried to arrest a whole group of outlaws. Now Darrin was planning to try the same thing again. Could the dream be some kind of warning?
Darrin found the picture of Lane, Mary, and himself still secure in the antique frame. He left the lid of the box open and sat on the couch. He stared at Mary's image and smile for happy memories. His smiled fade when his gaze shifter to Lane's face. It was familiar, and not from the past. Darrin bolted for his desk. He knocked over the coffee table and a lamp getting there. He grabbed the binder that had the pictures of the warehouse criminals and tore through it. The ninth picture was a match.
Darrin ripped the police picture out of the binder. Then he smashed the frame and pulled the old picture out of the glass. He held them close to each other. It was Lane. Darrin grabbed the phone and pushed a speed dial button.
"Hello, this is Harris."
"Harris, it's Darrin. Who else is there with you?"
"Cummings, Walker, and Tucker," Harris said. "Why?"
"I need something and I need it quick," Darrin said. "Do you remember that picture that was suppose to be John Wayne?"
"The fake one that turned out to be a century old?" Harris asked.
"Exactly," Darrin said. "I want all of you to drop what your doing and find that picture."
"Come on, Darrin. You've got to be shitting me."
"Do I sound like I'm fucking shitting you!" Darrin screamed. "You move your ass and move every body else's ass and find that god damned photograph. I'll be there in ten minutes."
Darrin ran out of the house leaving the mess behind. He was met at the squad room door by his team. He tore the picture out of Harris's hand and hurried down the hall to the picture matching computer with out explaining himself. The computer tech jumped when Darrin burst through the door.
"Match these." Darrin said holding out the three pictures.
"Sure," said the tech. "Just leave them on the pile and I'll get to them as soon as I can."
Darrin picked pu the pile of papers and threw them across the room. Papers rained across the computer equipment. "Match these, right now."
The tech's hand was shaking when he took the pictures from Darrin. The computer scanned each pictures, made them all the same size, and began its comparison. Darrin saw a demonstration of the computer once where it was able to tell the difference between a set of triplets. Darrin and the other officers at the demo all swore that all three pictures were the same person. Even when the computer pointed out the differences, Darrin couldn't tell. The computer buzzed and clicked for two minutes that seemed like twenty. Then it spit out the answer. Match.
Darrin laughed at himself all the way back to the house. When he opened the door, Debbie was standing in the living room holding the broken lamp. Darrin went straight to the chest and started digging again.
"What the hell is going on?" Debbie asked.
Darrin didn't answer. He just held out the three pictures to her. She stared at the pictures. Darrin stood up and buckled his old gun belt around his waist. He pinned his Martinsville sheriff badge to his shirt. There was new ammunition that fit the old pistols in the desk. When the old colts were loaded, he secured them in their holsters and rubbed his hand across the badge as if it were a religious relic. Then he pulled the pictures out of Debbie's hands, kissed her cheek and said, "I'll be home for dinner."
Darrin was out the door before Debbie could say anything. He drove straight for the warehouse. His team was there waiting for him. They all looked at him like he was a circus clown when he got out of the car. "What are all of you doing here?"
"One of the pictures you matched were out of the binder," Harris said. "You matched it to two others. One of which is suppose to be a century old. Now you show up looking like something out of the wild west. We want to know what the fuck is going on."
Darrin handed the pictures to Harris. "Two of those where taken around 1880. I'm the one sitting next to the woman. The man standing in the back is Lane. He was my deputy. We were ambushed by horse thieves in 1883. I didn't think he survived. The computer matched him to one of our surveillance photos. He's John Wayne." Darrin spoke about the past freely. He didn't care if the believed him.
"That would make him almost two hundred years old." Harris said.
"Yep."
"And you would have to be two hundred years old too." Harris was having a hard time believing it.
"Oh, at least." Darrin said.
"This is bullshit."
"No," Darrin said. "It's revenge. Lane thinks I abandoned him. He's had more than a hundred years to plan this. That's why he leaves a black hat behind. They're replicas of his hat, the one in the picture. He's been trying to get me to recognize it. He went out of his way to kill cops so he knew I'd get a look at the hat. He killed Mulligan while we were staking out this warehouse and then didn't move. He stayed here because he knew I would figure out that he was here. He's waiting for me. He's been waiting for months for me to put all together."
"This is complete and total bullshit." Harris said.
Darrin took the pictures back. "All of you stay out here and catch anyone who tries to run. I'm going in for Lane"
Harris grabbed his arm. "Darrin, you know I can't let you go in there."
"My name is Bradley."
Bradley knocked on the steel door with the butt of his gun. The door opened and a shotgun stared Bradley in the face. Bradley handed the picture of him, Lane and Mary through the door. "Tell Lane that Bradley is here."
Bradley heard running inside. The shotgun stayed where it was. It only took a minute for the messenger to get back to the door. The shot pulled inside and the door opened. Bradley was led through a maze of crates to the center of the warehouse.
Lane was standing in the middle of a wide open space. He wore a tattered faded black hat and a long coat. Bradley could see the coat bulge at Lane's hip where his gun was hanging.
"Do you want to live forever?"
"That's not the same old hat, is it?" Bradley asked.
Lane smiled. "Of course it is. It's the only thing I have left to remind me of Martinsville."
"I thought you were dead." Bradley said.
"I knew you weren't. I tried to track you but I lost your trail in the rockies. How long were you up there, Bradley?"
"Half a century maybe. Why didn't you let me know you were alive before I rode out of that canyon?"
"I caught a shotgun blast in the jaw and another in the back of the neck when I was down. It was morning before I could move again. It was past noon before I had my voice back. It was the worst beating I've ever taken. Why didn't you follow me out the door?"
"I didn't want you to go out there. I didn't want you to die."
"You could have drawn half the fire and I could have killed them all." Anger was beginning to rise in Lane's voice.
Bradley scowled. "And what were you going to do when I was dead. Were you after my badge?"
"If you had gone through that door with me we could have gone back to Martinsville together. We would have been heros. We could have been more famous than Wyatt Eurp."
"I never wanted to be a hero." Bradley yelled.
Bradley pulled one of his pistols. Lane was drawing his own gun. The gunfight was fast. Lane put three of his six shots in Bradley's chest. Bradley put two in Lane's chest, tow in his head and one in his right knee. The shot to the knee made Lane fall. Bradley pulled his second pistol, walked over to Lane, and emptied all six round into Lanes head.
That's when the big gun fight started. Lane's people opened fire. There were eight other men in the warehouse. They were all shooting at Bradley. Bradley ran for cover in the maze of crates. The gun fight became a deadly game of cat and mouse. Bradley got shot twice more as he hunted down seven of the eight men. Bradley heard a clicking sound behind him and spun quickly. The eighth man had a LAWS rocket launcher on his shoulder.
"Say good bye lawman."
A gunshot rang out and the criminal fell to the ground. Bradley thought that his team had broken into the warehouse. Then he saw her. It was Debbie. She had his german lugar in her hand.
"Debbie, what are you doing here."
Tears were pouring out of her eyes. "I always wanted to believe it was you. Bradley, why didn't you come back to me?"
"Mary?"
"Yes, it's Mary."
Bradley threw his arms around her and squeezed with the might of a hundred lonely years. When he released her, he wiped the tears off her face and said, "Where do you want to go to buy your dress?"
She kissed him and held him as close as she could. Her embrace was broken by a scream from the center of the warehouse.
"BRRAAADLEEEY!!!"
Bradley picked up the LAWS rocket and went to face Lane again. Lane was on his feet. The skin was missing off the left half of his face. He had a Mach 10 machine pistol from one of the men that Bradley killed. He cocked it and aimed at Bradley.
"We're not finished, Bradley." Lanes voice was a vulgar gargle.
Mary stepped out from behind Bradley. "Hello again, Lane."
Lane lowered the gun and stared at her in bewilderment. His pause was all the time that Bradley needed. He lifted the rocket to his shoulder and fired. It hit Lane square in the chest. The explosion minced Lane and started many of the crates on fire. Bradley and Mary escaped the flames through the boat house door that Mary was able to sneak in through.
The fire leveled the warehouse. The police report showed officer Darrin Addler as a victim of the blaze. Drug related crimes in the area dropped ninety percent the next month. The hospital officially fired Debbie when she didn't show up for work for five straight days.
High in the rockie mountains, was an old cabin......

A Shot of Snake on the Rocks

A Shot of Snake on the Rocks

I was only eighteen. And yet, I had already won the rank of Lance Corporal in the USMC as well as the right to carry the M-60 machine gun. The M-60 was the most powerful weapon my unit was issued and there was only one per platoon. That totaled five M-60’s in a company of 250 marines. One marine with an M-60 and a nine-yard striing of rounds can kill an entire platoon in less than ten seconds. I was the only Marine carrying one who was not a non-commissioned officer. I had been in the Coprs less than two years, so to become one of those five made me the object of a lot of jealousy. There were sergeants and staff-sergeants who had been after an M-60 for years.
It was one of those sergeants that gave me an all night watch when we were on maneuvers in the Mojave desert. It was the single most boring assignment I had ever pulled. We were in base camp. There was a communication system in the command tent that required twenty-four hour attention. I got the midnight til six a.m. shift. It was a six hour stretch of silence that went totally unbroken. The only thing I had to occupy myself with was a handbook on desert survival. Towards the back of the book was a section on desert dwelling animals. Since I was in the Mojave desert, the page on the Mojave Rattle Snake caught my attention. It is the only page in the whole book that I still remember.
It said the Mojave rattler was unique among rattle snakes for two reasons. First: its venom is both a neurotoxin and a hemotoxin. It poisons your blood and your nervous system. Most poisonous snakes do one or the other. Very few do both. Second: it is one of the few snakes in the world (not just rattle snakes) that has an aggressive personality and is known to attack opponents bigger than itself without being provoked. Most snakes will leave you alone if you leave them alone. The Mojave rattler attacks. After I finished the handbook I had five hours to think about Mojave rattlers.
Three days later my platoon went out into the field for a week. We had live ammunition. On the morning of the fourth day we were awake and moving before the sun rose. I was exhausted from the march. I was tired from lack of sleep. I was hungry because we started before breakfast and I knew we wouldn’t stop for about three hours. We were walking through a narrow corridor. There were all kinds of brush, undergrowth, and cacti growing around the rocks. Just as the path bent and a large pillar of rock cast a shadow across the road, I heard it.
At first I thought a metal clasp had broken loose from my pack. Then I realized that the clicks were much faster than my pace. I stopped. The rattle did not stop. I looked to my left at a rock the size of a jeep’s tire. The rattle was still rattling. The survival handbook page on the Mojave rattler flashed through my mind. The words “venom” and “aggressive” stood in the fore front. Something under the right lip of the rock moved. My hand reacted without me telling it to. I fired half my string of bullets at the ground under and around the rock. Marines scattered in every direction, diving for cover. When the echoes died the platoon got to their feet. No one was hurt, except for the sergeant who gave me the overnight watch. He landed on a cactus. There had been something under the rock. I don’t know what it was because we only found a few pieces of it.
When we got back to base camp I got yelled at by an entire tent full of men with brass on their shoulders. They did not take the M-60 from me. In fact, they didn’t give me any sort of punishment at all beyond the yelling. As I was leaving the tent with my tail tucked properly between my legs I heard on of them say, At least he hit what he was shooting at.”
I never got invited back out to the desert. I can’t imagine why.
　
　
　

The Tale of Vroilesque

THE TALE OF VROILESQUE
My name is Vroilesque. I am an Ulnakst. My kind live below the roots of the greens. We strive in the shadows. Light is harmful to us, so, it is with great caution that we venture to above the greens. The journey is so hazardous that none of us have attempted the trip since long before my own birth. Until recently the legends of Overgreens didn't seem real. Then the trouble started.

They found the dead Ulnakst three colds past the longest cold from above the greens. It was so badly mutilated that the elders could not identify it. There were only three of the arms left and the second one was broken in many places. There was a large hole in the chest. A piece of dead green was stuck in the eye. Worst of all, the entire body was burned black. It had been left out in the burning light.

The elders ruled that another Ulnakst must go to above the greens to find the answer to what happened. Rkloct was chosen. He was large and very strong. I once saw him slicing the marble stones for exercise. His cuts were more than twice the depth of my own. When he left for above the greens the whole community was silent. We gathered at the base of the tunnel to watch him leave. I wished him all my luck and prayed to the Goddess of the center fires to protect him on his journey.

My obsidian had cooled and I was about to dine when I heard the wail. I burst from my cavern to see Rkloct collapse near the holy pillar in the middle of the square. His blood poured from holes in his chest turning the green turquoise stone of the holy pillar black. His tail had been cut off. He gasped for breath as he spoke. "The Overgreens..... monsters...... too violent..... don't understand peace...... no warning...... attacked on sight...... sounds cut me..... monsters...... no peace..... no peee."

He was dead. The elders took Rkloct's warning as gospel. They forbade any of the Ulnakst to travel to above the greens. We were to avoid the Overgreens completely and forever. It was made into law. The rest of the community went back to their normal lives. But I could not. There was something that Rkloct said that I could not get out of my mind. He said that the Overgreens cut him with sound. I could not understand how that was possible. It plagued my mind for nights on end. I decided that I could stand it no longer. I was going to break the law for the first time in my life and go to above the greens.

I went at the dark of the moon and kept to the deepest shadows. If the overgreens attacked on sight, I would try not to let them see me. There was a dense section of very high greens that I thought would keep me hidden. I had once heard a rumor that the Overgreens worshiped the burning light. It was true. The Overgreens even used false light to brighten the darkness. At first this false light scared me, but I soon learned that it was harmless. The light made it more difficult to hide. I had just settled myself into the greens when I saw a group of Overgreens. They were hideous! They only had two legs and two arms. They had two small eyes and their teeth were hidden in their mouths. They stood straight up like stalactites. They covered their bodies with fake skin of the strangest colors. Rkloct was right. They were monsters.

I lifted my head to try to get a better look. That was when the noise came. It was ear shattering, like nothing I had heard before. Then I heard other noises join it. I turned to see what it was. An Overgreen had seen me and was yelling. I had trouble believing that any living creature could make such a noise. I remembered Rkloct's warning that they attacked on sight. I turned towards the tunnel home but there were Overgreens in the way. There was more noise. I saw many more Overgreens running at the tall greens where I was hiding. I had no choice. I had to break threw the Overgreens in front of my tunnel.

I stood to my full height and roared for them to get out of the way. As I ran forward most of the overgreens fled. I struck two Overgreens that did not flee and knocked them out of the way. I was surprised at how little they weighed. I was almost to the tunnel when I heard a noise much louder that any others. It sounded like a boulder had fallen from a high ledge on to hard granite. I felt a sharp pain in my back. The sound had cut me. Rkloct was right. They could cut with sound. I got to the tunnel and raced for below the greens without bothering to close the tunnel behind me. I heard more of the cutting sound, but none of them cut me.

When I got back and told my story, the elders decide to seal every tunnel that went to over the greens. We shook the ground so hard when we collapsed the tunnels, we could hear the false stones of the Overgreens falling as well. My wound was healed. The elders considered my punishment for many nights. They ruled that I would tell my story to all living Ulnakst. I would use the scar of my wound for proof of the tales. And, I would continue to tell my story over and over again until I die. It must a legacy and a warning. The treachery of the Overgreens must never be forgotten. The peace of our world is at stake.

A Nightmare in Paradise

A NIGHTMARE IN PARADISE
　
Monday, September 8
Jim took a deep breath of the salt air. He had been looking forward to this day for months. The first day of his new job as head of maintenance at the Holiday Inn Sunspree in Paradise Cove, Florida. At last, he finally made it out of the freezer. The hotel had a nice atmosphere. The beach in front of the hotel was beautiful. The sun was brighter and friendlier in Florida than it was in Chicago. Paradise. Pure paradise.
The first half of Jim's day was spent shaking hands. By lunch time, his head was swimming with all the new names. He could only place a few to their faces. He remembered Beverly's red hair and her sarcasm. He introduced himself and she told him to fix her chair. He remembered Michelle, the reservationist. He could still hear her voice. It made him think of phone sex. Then there was Colleen, the housekeeping manager. He would never forget how her low-cut blouse and high-cut skirt almost passed each other. And there was Scott, the GM of course.
The rest of Jim's day was spent exploring the hotel. He made a list of every thing that needed servicing, even Beverly's chair. He was putting his notebook in his pocket, after finding some rust on one of the freezers, when he saw the door.
The door was hidden in a dark corner of the kitchen. There were rolling bread racks and an old chalk board stacked in front of it. None of Jim's keys worked.
Jim knocked on an office door. Michelle was sitting at a desk wearing a telephone operator's headset. "Hi, Jim. Come on in."
"Sorry to bother you. Do you know who has the key to the door in the back of the restaurant?" Jim asked.
"You mean the emergency exit?" Michelle asked.
Jim shook his head. "No. There's a storage closet or something way in the back of the kitchen. None of my keys work on it."
"I didn't know it was there." Michelle said.
"Neither did any of the kitchen staff." Jim said.
"Ask Scott. He should know." Michelle said.

Wednesday, September 11
No one had the key. In fact, no one knew the door was there. It was unsettling.
"Hey Mr. Fixit. Watcha doin'." Colleen said.
"I'm looking for the bolt cutters." Jim said. "What are you up to?"
"Just taking in the sights." Colleen said. "Why do you need bolt cutters? Are you trying to escape already?"
"I want to see what's behind that door in the kitchen." Jim said.
"What door?"
"The one in the kitchen I asked you about yesterday," Jim said.
"I don't remember a conversation about the kitchen. Are you sure you were talking to me?" Colleen asked.
"How could I mistake anyone else for you?" Jim said.
"That's sweet," Colleen said. "We're all going out for drinks after work Friday. You wanna come?"
"Sure."
"See you then." She sauntered down the hall.
The bolt cutters made short work of the lock. The room was almost bare. There was a large, very old, boiler against the far wall. It was cold. There were holes in two of the walls. The first was hidden behind the boiler in a brick wall. It was about three feet square. It was less than a foot into the wall. It ran so deep down the length of the wall that Jim's flashlight couldn't find its end.
The second hole was in a plasterboard wall. It was big enough for Jim to crawl through. Before Jim knew it, he was kneeling in the atrium garden that was between the rest rooms and the pool entrance. Jim stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants.
"Is something broken in there?" Beverly was standing in the doorway of the ladies room. "You know, we have a kitchen. You don't have to forage for food."
Friday, September 13
It was a hole-in-the-wall bar; one dart board, one juke box, one pinball machine, two tables, and a cluster of stools.
"Hey, we've got to start a new pool." Martin, the heavy set accountant, said.
"Who won?" Beverly asked, spilling her drink on herself.
"No one." Martin said.
"Who quit?" Colleen asked.
"Jessica." Martin said.
"Which one was Jessica?" Michelle asked. She was already numb.
"One of the maids." Colleen said.
"The pot starts at fifty bucks." Martin said.
Everybody started pulling money out of their pockets.
"What's going on?" Jim asked.
"We run a pool on who will quit next." Beverly said. "It's five bucks to get in. You can pick any employee. If that person quits you win the pot. No one picked Jessica, so the pot rolls over and we start again."
"Is the turnover of people really that high?" Jim said.
"We loose two every three months, or there about." Colleen said.
"Every forty-five days." Martin said. "I got curious one time and actually counted. Someone quits every forty-five days. I can set my calendar by it."
"How long has that been going on?" Jim said.
"Years." Beverly said.
"Longer than I've been here." Michelle said.
"Nobody here thinks that's just a little bit strange." Jim said.
"I never gave it a second thought." Beverly said. "Barkeep, another round of Zipperheads."
　
Thursday, September 19
Jim finished repairing both of the holes in the old room. He put a new lock on the door, and made sure he knew where the key was. It turned out that Colleen wasn't the only one that had forgotten about the old room. It was as if they had all been hypnotised to keep forgetting it. Jim's paradise had a flaw in it.

Monday, October 28
Jim saw it the minute he walked threw the pool doors. There was white powder all over the floor and in the atrium garden. Jim climbed into the garden and looked at the wall. The hole was back. The white dust was plaster board. It looked like some one had broken out from inside.
Jim ran into the kitchen. His lock was still on the door. Both holes had been reopened. But, there was no debris. The room was clean.
Colleen won the pool. One of the night maids never showed up for work.

Thursday, December 12
"Hey Jim, you gonna help us decorate the christmas tree?" Colleen was at the top of a ladder with garland in her hands. Scott and Martin were under the ladder taking stock of Colleen's mini-skirt.
"I'll be there in a moment. I have some things to do." Jim said.
In the last six weeks, Jim couldn't keep his mind off the holes and the old room. He had unbolted the boiler from the floor and pushed it into a far corner. He knew he was crazy for thinking what he thought. He just had to be sure.
It was ten minutes to eight when Jim opened the lock. The sun was gone for the night. Jim could feel a chill rising, but he couldn't tell if it was in the air or in his spine. Then Jim's blood ran cold. The holes were back.
Jim sat on the floor with his back against the closed door. His shotgun was laying across his lap. He sat in the dark listening to the beat of his heart. He could feel the seconds ticking away. His eyes adjusted to the dark. He could see faint light coming from the plasterboard hole. The brick hole looked like a shadow on a shadow.
After a couple of hours, Jim called himself crazy and was about to give up when he heard something being dragged. He pointed the shotgun at the hole. He waited until the dragging sound was in the middle of the room, then switched on the light.
The scream sounded like a tortured animal. The thing raised up on its hind legs. It was black as black could get. Its arms looked like rubber hoses with the claws of a lobster at the ends. There were no eyes. The head was taken up by the mouth of a shark. Giant cockroach antenna were sticking out of the top of the head. It had been dragging a body towards the hole in the brick wall.
Jim lifted the shotgun to his shoulder. The thing screamed again. Jim pulled the trigger. The wall behind the thing turned black, as if Jim had pulled the trigger of a giant paint sprayer. The arms were on the floor wiggling like mammoth earthworms. Jim fired twice more. Then he shoved the shotgun down the hole in the brick wall and fired until he was out of shells.
Jim rolled the body over. It was Colleen. She was still breathing. There was a gash on the back of her head and a mark across her throat. Jim carried her out the back and drove her to the hospital. He told her she got caught up in the garland and fell off the ladder. She was just drunk enough to believe him.

Two years after Jim fixed the holes, a maid quit and the pool rolled over again.
　

Lady Adventure's Engagement

LADY ADVENTURE'S ENGAGEMENT

Princess Bridget sat on the edge her of plush bed. The remnant of her angry tears still stained her face. She couldn't believe that her father would promise her hand in marriage to a total stranger. The single announcement had turned her luxurious room into a prison and shattered her dreams of adventure all in one fell swoop. The brass bell and chime tune was dancing in her head again. She couldn't remember ever hearing the tune played. It just kept playing in her head.
Bridget had been brooding for hours when she heard the heavy oak door creak open, she turned her head to see her father.
"Bridget, sweetheart, can we talk?"
"There's nothing to talk about," She said turning away from him. "You already made up your mind."
He touched her curly brown hair. "Please Bridget, you have to understand..."
"That a king has to do what's best for the whole kingdom." She finished his sentence with a sarcastic tone. "Even if it's bad for his family."
"You know," he said sitting next to his daughter. "This is the same way your mother reacted when her father promised her to me. She thought she'd be trapped in this castle for the rest of her life. After she became queen she traveled the world. Your mother saw places and things that I've never dreamed of."
"But she was traveling as your ambassador," Bridget protested.
"Exactly," agreed the king. "She had the best of both worlds. She was able to uphold her duties to the kingdom and still have great adventures. You can do the same thing."
"It doesn't change the fact that I have to marry a stranger." Bridget was seeing too much of her father's point of view.
"You'll learn to love each other the way your mother and I did."
"Can I make a request for the engagement party?" Bridget asked.
"Anything in the world."
"I want the bard Lough and his troop to come and play."
The kings ruddy cheeks paled and his wide shoulders seemed to shrink. Bridget had never seen her father look so small. She saw him swallow and he sat on the bed next to her. "Can you ask me for something else? Please."
"I want Lough to play at my engagement party."
"Sweetheart, Lough and his people aren't real bards. They're sorcerers and adventure hunters. Trouble has followed them to the four corners of the world."
"They're the best musicians in all the lands," Bridget argued. "Lough's playing is legendary."
"Lough and his folk use their music to work magic," the King said with a shaky voice. "They use magics that even the wizard Zoroaster doesn't understand."
Bridget stood and said, "Father, in less than a month's time I will be the queen of my own lands. This is my last request as your daughter and my last wish for the end of my childhood. Please father, give this one last gift to your only child."
Her voice was not that of his child. It was the voice of a strong and independent woman.
When the King stood he had the air of royalty around him again. "O.K. I heard reports that Lough was near Rottingdam. I'll send messengers west to see if they can find him. But I can't promise he'll come. I can only offer him but money, and I've heard that money is the last thing he is interested in."
"It's enough that you try." She still sounded like a queen.
Two weeks later Bridget was standing on the balcony of the high tower that overlooked the main gate of the castle. She had been watching the road for days waiting for the appearance of Lough. There were five globes lining the road spaced every twenty yards from the main gates. The king had commissioned the wizard Zoroaster to place them there. They were warning signals that would glow if they detected the presence of any type of magic. Even Bridget's ring that served to protect her would cause them to give off a small bit of illumination.
The sun had fallen below the top of the mountain but there were still hours of daylight left. The mountain's shadow made the road look sinister. A chill worked its way up Bridget's spine and she was about to go inside when she saw them.
Four men on horseback and a fifth driving a wagon with two horses rounded the bend. They were more than a hundred and fifty yards from the gate when the first globe started to glow. The whole group hesitated when they saw the light. The horseman out in front spurred his horse to move forward. The others fell into single file with military precision.
The group had not reached the first globe when the second started to glow. They stopped. The leader motioned to the others and they retreated to the wagon. The second horsemen threw back his cloak and pulled a strange object from around his back. It looked similar to a lute, but it was much larger. The third horseman had a strange horn that looked like a brass bowl on the end of a long pipe that seemed to come alive when he played it. The forth horseman was a woman. She wore a tight, yet elegant, leather garment under her cloak. Her instrument looked like a flat board with dozens of ivory inlays. The woman played by gliding her fingers across the inlays. The man on the wagon hung a drum over his shoulders by a thick leather strap. It was a huge drum with three smaller drums and a copper disc attached to it. Bridget had never seen its like.
The lead horseman directed his horse to the side of the wagon from which he took an instrument similar to the second man's lute. It was smaller and seemed to have more strings. The man moved his hands and it screamed to the heavens. The others joined in and the globes burst into light.
Bridget covered her ears from the howl. She was about to scream from pain when there was sudden silence. By the time Bridget gained her composure and looked back over the edge of the balcony, the wagon had passed the last globe and was about to enter the castle. The globes were as black as the leather of the adventurer's costume that was hidden in the back of Bridget's wardrobe. Small whiffs of smoke drifted from the top of each globe as if they were candles that someone had just blown out.
Bridget watched from behind shadows and around corners as Lough and his troop were shown to a large room over the servants quarters. No sooner had the door closed behind them than she heard soft music begin to drift from the room. It was the tune that had been playing in Bridget's head.
Bridget was so excited that her dreams of adventure jumped back to her. With her costume on, dagger and all, she found her small lute and she attempted to play the tune. She had tried to play it before but she was never able to get it right. This time, she took a deep breath with her eyes closed and played the tune. The notes that rang out of the small lute were the perfect image of the song in her head.
A servant knocked on the door and scared Bridget so bad that she dropped the lute, breaking it into three different pieces. The young girl from the kitchen staff was visibly shocked by Bridget's attire. "I'm sorry for disturbing you my lady, but your father sent me to gather you to the dinning hall. Prince Gillmore has arrived and his majesty wishes for you to come meet him immediately."
"Hand me my dress," Bridget said, pointing to where she had carelessly discarded it earlier.
"Yes, my lady." The girl hurried into the room to obey.
Bridget pulled the dress over the leather and told the girl to lace up the back. "Tell me," she said. "What does Prince Gillmore look like."
"I guess he's handsome enough." The girl was awkward.
"Speak freely. I promise you won't get in any trouble," Bridget said. "What does he look like, really?"
The girl swallowed and paused. "I'd rather marry one of my father's cows."
The introduction to Prince Gillmore chased away Bridget's appetite. He was much shorter than Bridget. Her first thought was that it was a troll from a bad fairy tale. He had black hair, peppered with gray, that was pushed straight back across his head with a greasy shine. The top of his head looked like the small stream in the back of the castle that had been polluted by the castle's waist. There was a black mole under his left eye with three hairs growing out of it and a wart on his chin that would be enough to get a peasant woman accused of witchcraft.
When the King's wine glass was half empty he stood and addressed his guest. "It's always good to welcome new members to our family. As a treat for Prince Gillmore, at my daughters request, I have arranged for a very special troop of bards to entertain us at the engagement party tomorrow. I certainly hope you enjoy it."
"Indeed," Gillmore said. "I enjoy music very much. Who have you hired?"
"The best musicians in the world," the King boasted. "Lord Lough and his entourage."
Gillmore's smiled turned to stone. His voice rasped when he said, "Lough is here?"
"Indeed," The King said.
Bridget watched Gillmore sink into his chair. She could see his mind racing and she wondered why he seemed so threatened by Lough's presence. For an instant, he looked even uglier. Bridget excused herself and, as she rose from the table, she saw a shadow slip out of hall.
Bridget took the long way around to the servants quarters. She waited until the narrow hallway was empty and knocked on the door.
"Come in." The voice was deep and musical.
The door swung open and Bridget found the musicians relaxing around the room. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"Not at all," said a tall man with shoulder length blond hair. "Come in and close the door. My name is Lough. You must be the Princess Bridget."
"Just Bridget will be fine." She wished that she was marrying this handsome man instead of the livestock downstairs. "I came to thank you for accepting my father's invitation to come and play here. It means a lot to me."
"There must be some confusion," Lough said. "We received no invitation."
"My father sent messengers out to find you weeks ago."
"That's why we were received so graciously," said a short man with a round face and thin body. "They thought we came because they called on us."
"Didn't you?" Bridget asked.
The man laughed.
"Please forgive Logrin," Lough said. "We have been following serious business and it led us to your door. We never met any of your father's messengers."
"Then why did you come?"
"Excuse me dear," said the lady of Lough's group. She was beautiful. Her face and her hands seemed too delicate for the worn leather she wore. "Pardon my curiosity, but do you always wear hard leathers under such lovely dresses?"
"How did you know?"
"Allysa, leave her alone."
"I'll bet that your leather is as gorgeous as mine was five years ago. This is probably the first time its been out of your room."
"That's enough, Allysa." Lough's voice boomed through the room. Allysa leaned back into her chair and was quiet.
"My lady, can I ask you a question?" It was the largest member of the troop. He stood a full head over Lough and was twice as wide. His dark beard was so full that Bridget could hardly see his mouth move when he spoke.
"Only if you tell me your name," Bridget said.
"Hudd."
"Your name is Hudd?"
"Yes my lady."
"Please, call me Bridget. What's your question?"
"Why are you marrying that ugly bastard Gillmore?" Hudd crossed his tree trunk arms.
"My father arranged it," Bridget said. "I've never met him before today."
"I'd rather marry one of my father's cows." The voice came from the far corner of the room. Bridget hadn't noticed him when she came in. He was about the same size as Allysa but more wiry. His black hair and dark complexion made him look like he was almost part of the shadow he was standing in. His voice disturbed her until she realized he had imitated the servant girl.
"This is Montorea," Lough said. "He usually doesn't say much."
"It was you, wasn't it?" Bridget said. "You were the shadow I saw slip out of the dinning hall." She intercepted a knowing glance between Lough and Allysa. Montorea leaned back farther into the shadow. "What's going on? I demand you tell me." It was a queens voice.
Lough looked around the room. Hudd and Logrin both nodded. Montorea held up a thumb from the shadow. "Well?" He was looking at Allysa.
"We might need her and she can get closer than we can." Allysa said.
Lough looked at Bridget. "All right, we'll tell you. But it is very important that you keep this to yourself."
Lough motioned to Allysa. She picked up her instrument and began playing the tune from Bridget's head.
Prince Gillmore kept fidgeting all through the party. Lough's troop was on a small stage playing softly the entire time. Bridget kept catching Lough and Gillmore staring at each other. Gillmore kept fingering the hilt of his sword. Bridget checked her own dagger twice despite her instructions from Lough. The tension in the air was harder to cut than the over-cooked mutton the kitchen staff had prepared. The King milled around the room until he was sure he welcomed every guest personally.
After what seemed an eternity, the King finally stepped up onto the platform at the head of the hall that held the seats for himself, Bridget and Gillmore. "My friends, your attention please. It is with great happiness that I announce the engagement of my lovely daughter Bridget and Prince Gillmore. May their life together be fruitful and happy. To help us celebrate, Lord Lough and his fine troop have traveled many miles to perform for us." The King clapped and sat down.
Gillmore sat to the left of the King and Bridget sat between them. Lough moved up and stood in front of Gillmore. Allysa was to his left, in front of the king. Hudd sat his drum on a table the was suspiciously close to the main door. Montorea took his large lute to within six feet of the kitchen door. He also had a clear view of Gillmore. Logrin and his horn was five feet behind Lough and Allysa. Lough sang as the troop played. It was Bridget's tune again.
Lough's eyes never left Gillmore. As the song began to reach its end, Lough saw Gillmore pull his legs under him like he was ready to stand and reach for his sword. Lough broke the song and yelled, "Now!"
Allysa flew up the platform and knocked the King to the floor half a moment before an arrow stuck in the chair right where the Kings chest had been. Hudd spun and hit Gillmore's valet with the hammer he had been using to play his drum, then ran to block the door. Montorea threw his lute into the balcony. The large curved blade on its rim stuck into the chest of the bowman that fired at the king. Logrin turned and played a note from his horn that was so shrill that the three arrows aimed at him, Lough and Allysa wavered in mid air and fell to his feet.
The tip of Gillmore's sword had just left its scabbard when Bridget reached under his arm and sank her dagger into his shoulder. Gillmore screamed and dropped his sword. He barely had enough time to realize that Bridget was the one that stabbed him before Lough's fist knocked him to the floor.
When the dust settled the King was fine, Gillmore was in the dungeon and Bridget's thirst for adventure had more than doubled. In the morning the King called Lough and his companions to the main audience chamber.
"Lord Lough," the King said. "Last night after all the commotion was done with, my messenger's came to me and said they were unable to locate you to deliver my invitation. I am curious to know what stroke of fortune brought you to me."
"Gillmore's men assassinated your magistrate on your northern border three months ago," Lough began. "His man is still there falsifying reports of Gillmore's army massing another twenty miles north. They have orders to attack as soon as they get word that you're dead. You'll need to send as many men as you can north as soon as possible."
"How did you come to learn all this?" asked the King. "Surely Gillmore would have you killed if he thought you knew."
"He tried," Lough said. "We used to be six."
"How can I repay you for all you've done for me?"
"Grant Bridget her hearts desire." Lough answered.
"How will a gift to my daughter repay you?" the King asked. He looked at Bridget.
Bridget untied her sash and let her dress fall to the floor. She was wearing her leather. "Father, I would like to go with Lough and travel the world."
The King rose to his feet. Bridget knew he was searching for words and reasons to forbid her from going. After a long moment he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Lough, why did you bother to risk your life for me. Why do you care if my kingdom gets overrun?"
"I was born here, sire."
The King looked at Lough. "Can you keep her safe?"
"No," Lough answered. "Our business is danger, and we follow it to the four corners of the world."
"I'll miss you Bridget."
"I'll come home, father. I promise."
　

The Flavour of Betrayal

THE FLAVOUR OF BETRAYAL

Taryn was as ready as she would ever be. Paulie would be there soon. All she had to do was get him alone for three minutes. She had an idea on how to get him away from the table. Her only worry was if Paulie would believe her or not. If he didn't believe her and he told her husband, Jimmy, she was dead. Jimmy would kill her. Jimmy was just under six feet tall. He had a narrow frame. He had a pretty face, and was feminine in his feature and his movements. He got in with Paulie doing low grade thug work. It took years, but Jimmy finally earned Paulie's trust. Still, if Paulie believed Taryn, he would kill Jimmy.
The bell rang. "Taryn, get the door!"
Taryn turned the knob. "Hi, Paulie. How have you been? Michael, nice to see you again." Michael took care of Paulie's safety. He wore an expensive tree piece suit and he still scared people. Michael could make a bouncer back down just by looking at him.
"Taryn, you're looking as beautiful as ever." Paulie kissed her cheek. "I only wish Belle' looked as good as you."
"Stop it. Belle' is just lovely." Taryn was being sickeningly sweet. "Come in and sit down. What would you like to drink?"
"Coffee with sugar will be fine," Paulie said as he handed his coat to Taryn.
"How about you, Michael?" The big man shook his head and kept his coat. In the four years she had known Michael, she hadn't heard him say three things. Paulie never carried a gun. He kept Michael near by.
The two men sat with Jimmy around the dinning room table. Taryn had deliberately removed one of the chairs. She had to make sure that they would be able to see her as they talked. She had dressed provocatively. Her push-up bra almost pushed her right out of her shirt. The shirt was so tight it impaired her breathing. She left the zipper down far enough to expose part of the bra. Black nylons hugged her long legs. The ends of the garter belt would peek out from under her mini-skirt if she turned the right way. She had to go out the day before to buy the mini-skirt. Not one of the skirts she owned were short enough for she was about to do. She had to make sure that Paulie and Michael looked at her. It was an important part of her proof.
Taryn turned the radio on. She began to dance her way around the kitchen. She danced to the coffee maker to start it brewing. She danced to the refrigerator and so on. Her dance was as seductive as she could make it. All it was missing was a pole. She had gone to a couple of topless bars to see how the strippers danced so she could imitate them. She kept glancing at the men to see if they were watching. They were. Jimmy was oblivious to her. He had been for a long wile.
The coffee finished brewing. It was time to get Paulie alone. As she walked to the table with the cup she wished that Paulie had asked for something cold. She held out the cup with a smile, and as Paulie reached for it, she dumped it in his lap.
"Ow! Jesus fucking Christ!" Paulie jumped out of his chair.
"Oh, Paulie, I’m so sorry." Taryn grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed at Paulie's pants.
"Why the hell can't you be careful?" Jimmy snapped.
"No, no. It's all right," Paulie said.
"No, Paulie, its not all right. Come with me and I'll get you cleaned up." Taryn grabbed his hand and dragged him into the utility room before anyone could object.
"If you wanted to speak to me alone, all you had to do was ask," Paulie said.
"No, Paulie. I couldn't." Suddenly, she was no longer seductive. "You know about Jimmy, don't you. That's why you're here."
"What do you mean, Taryn." Paulie could tell when some one was talking business.
"I know you’re missing money, Paulie. It was in a gray leather pouch with a zipper on it. Like the kind they use for bank deposits. You know Jimmy took it and you came over to look him in the eyes and see if he'd lie to your face."
Paulie wiped his hand across his mouth. "How do you know about the missing money?" It was a test question. Her answer would tell him if he should trust her or not.
"Last week I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. The bag was on Jimmy's night stand. He was up and gone before I woke the next morning. The bag was gone too."
"He's your husband. Why are you telling me this?" Paulie asked. "If this all turns out to be true, you know what I'll have to do."
"He isn't my husband any more, Paulie," Taryn said. "He hasn't touched me in over a year. He usually doesn't even sleep in my bed any more. Paulie, you saw me dancing in the kitchen. I'm an attractive woman. There's not a single reason why any red blooded man in the world wouldn't watch me dance. Look at me. This is what men like to look at. You looked. Michael looked. Jimmy doesn't look any more. He's fucking another woman, Paulie. I know it. I think he stole your money to run off with her."
"Do you have any proof?" Paulie asked.
"Perfume," Taryn said. "I've memorized the scent of her perfume."
Paulie protested, "There are hundreds of perfumes on the market."
"Not like this one," Taryn said. "It's exotic. I've been to every store within fifty miles. No one carries it. She must have had it imported."
"Back to the original question," Paulie said. "Why are you telling all this to me?"
"Because we're in the same boat," Taryn reasoned. "Jimmy has betrayed us both. I don't want to go down with him."
Paulie decided to trust her. "I'm going to be as straight with you as you've been with me, Taryn. Yes, there is money missing. But, I did not know that Jimmy took it. You had better be damn sure about this, Taryn."
"I'll prove it to you, Paulie. When I go back to the kitchen I'll dance again. You watch Jimmy. He won't give me a glance."
"I suppose I owe you something for this," Paulie said.
"Before you kill Jimmy," Taryn said. "I want him to see me kill the bitch he left me for."
"You have my word." Paulie kissed her on the cheek and went back to the table.
Taryn went back to the kitchen and danced. Paulie kept an eye on Jimmy. Taryn was right. Jimmy didn't glance at her. Paulie looked a Taryn. She was the kind of woman that Paulie would have liked to marry. Taryn would be a widow soon. She was almost worth leaving his wife for. Almost.
Two weeks later, Taryn and Jimmy were invited to Paulie's house for dinner. Paulie had put the word out that Jimmy had gone bad and gave orders for all his people to keep a close eye on him.
Paulie opened the door. "Jimmy, glad you could make it. Go on in."
Paulie watched Jimmy slither down the hall to the dinning room before turning to Taryn.
"How have you been, Paulie?" Taryn said.
"I haven't found out who the woman is yet."
"He had the perfume on his shirt again three nights ago. He's going to make a break soon, Paulie. We've got to find this bitch before we loose them both."
Paulie put his hands on Taryn's shoulders. "We won't loose Jimmy. I promise. Let's go eat."
"It's nice to have you over again," Belle said. She gave Taryn a rather cold hug.
Taryn‘s heart stopped as a familiar scent invaded her nostrils. "That's nice perfume you're wearing, Belle," Taryn said.
Paulie stopped in mid-stride.
"Thank you," Belle said. "It was a present from Paulie on my birthday."
"Really. I don't think I remember you wearing it before," Taryn prodded.
"I only wear it on special occasions," Belle said.
"Well I think it's just lovely," Taryn said. "I've got to get some for myself. Where did you find it, Paulie?"
Paulie's jaw was stiff. "Paris. I had it imported."
After dinner Jimmy offered to help Belle with the dishes. Taryn and Paulie took their drinks to the den.
Paulie slammed his glass down on an end table. "I can't fucking believe it. Did you see them? They never took their eyes off each other. Right in my own fucking house."
"Paulie, keep your voice down." Taryn's hands were shaking.
"They're in there kissing each other right now. I'll bet the fucking bank on it." He was trying to keep his volume low.
"What do we do now, Paulie?"
"You kill her. I kill him."
"You want me to kill Belle?" Taryn asked.
"I did promise to let him see you kill the bitch he's sleeping with." Paulie was using his business voice.
"She's your wife, Paulie. I don't expect you to keep your promise."
Paulie was shocked. He never had a woman talk this straight with him before. He felt himself calming down. "I can't kill my own wife and come home to my daughter. But, I can't let any one live that double crosses me. If you do it, I don't have to owe anybody anything."
"When?"
"We'll catch them when they make their break so they won't be able to deny it."
"Taryn, let's go!" Jimmy's yell broke Paulie's and Taryn's gaze on each other.
"I'll see you." Taryn said.
"Soon."
Paulie went to kiss her on the cheek. She turned and kissed him hard on his mouth.
"If you need me, for anything...." she said.
"I'll let you know."
* * * * * * *
It was a month before Jimmy and Belle made their break. Jimmy used some of the stolen money to buy a fast sports car. He tried to hide it in a storage garage. Michael was on Jimmy so tight he was able to get combination of the padlock.
Taryn and Paulie used a Polaroid to keep stock of Jimmy's and Belle's closets. When both pictures were suddenly missing a lot of the contents, they knew it was time.
Paulie and Taryn waited with Michael at a coffee shop down the street from the garage. Taryn sipped at a cold cup of cappuccino. Paulie just stared at the silent radio. Michael kept sliding his hand inside his coat. It made Taryn more nervous every time he did it.
"He's movin'." The voice on the radio made the trio jump.
"Which way?"
"West. He gots two cases 'n da trunk an' one up front."
"Is he packing?"
"Can't tell."
"Every one sound off when you see him."
The radio talk was making Taryn's heart race. Paulie looked like he was listening to a horse race he had money on.
"He just ran the light on fifty-seventh. The son of a bitch is hawlin' ass."
"He just made the left on Maple. Should be at the house in two shakes."
"I got him. Fucker parked in the driveway and is headin' for the door...... He's inside."
Paulie, Taryn and Michael left the coffee house. and sprinted to the garage. Michael locked Paulie and Taryn inside with the car that hid with some other men. Paulie and Taryn sat in the car and put the radio on the dash.
"Here they come..... Fucking shit!"
"What's wrong?"
"They got the kid with them. What do I do?"
"Nothing. Stick to the plan."
"Looks like their dragging the kid. I don't think she wants to go with 'em...... Hello. Jimmy just check a pistol under his left arm..... The car's rollin' your way."
"I got 'im. He's goin' for the garage."
"He just turned in. Here we go. Every one be ready."
Jimmy parked close to the garage door. "Come on. The faster we do this the better."
"I don't want to go," the girl said. "I don't want to leave daddy." She was thirteen, and the spitting image of Paulie. She knew exactly what her father's business was, and she liked the fact that her daddy could get her anything she asked for. She was the boss's daughter, and she liked it.
"Kathy, I already told you once," Belle said. "We have to go."
"No, you have to go. You're the one that cheated on Daddy," Kathy spit.
"That's enough," Belle said. "You're going."
"Belle, we don't have time for this," Jimmy said throwing the padlock aside and pushing the door opened. He was at the car's door before he saw Paulie. "Oh shit."
Belle screamed. Four men cut off any escape. Michael was aiming his gun at Jimmy. "Give it over. Slowly."
Jimmy tossed his gun to Michael. Paulie and Taryn got out of the car.
"Daddy!" Kathy ran to her father and hugged him. "I didn't want leave you. They made me."
Paulie said, "It's O.K., Pumpkin. I want you to go with Billy right now. He'll take you home."
"I love you, Daddy." Kathy kissed his cheek.
"I love you too," Paulie said. "Go on now. Go home."
Taryn came around the car and sat on the hood. Belle stuffed herself into a corner. Jimmy and Paulie stared at each other.
"It's bad enough you stole my money, Jimmy. But you stole my wife too. What do I do with you two now?" Paulie asked.
Jimmy was silent.
"How long have you been fucking him, Belle?" Paulie was still staring at Jimmy.
"Paulie, please...." Belle muttered.
"How long!" He finally looked at her.
Belle started to cry.
"Come over here," Paulie said.
It took Belle a lifetime to walk the four feet to where Paulie was standing. "Paulie, I'm sorry."
"I can't hurt you, Belle," Paulie said. "You're my wife and part of me still loves you. But, you did betray me and I can't let that go unpunished."
"Paulie, please. Give me a chance to explain," Belle pleaded.
"I don't want you to explain," Paulie said. "I want him to explain."
Jimmy was silent.
"You know, Jimmy," Paulie said. "Taryn is a beautiful woman. She's smart too. She's the one that caught you. I made her a promise. I told her I'd let you watch her kill the bitch you were fucking."
Belle's crying became hysterical.
Paulie continued. "Then we found out you were fucking Belle, and Taryn said she wouldn't hold me to my promise."
Belle calmed down a little. Paulie went to Belle and gave her a kiss. Belle stopped crying and smiled. Paulie smiled went back to Jimmy. A muffled pop echoed through the garage. Jimmy looked back. There was blood on the wall and Belle was on the floor.
Paulie lifted his gun so that Jimmy could look down the barrel. Jimmy's teeth started to rattle. Then they stopped.
"Michael," Paulie yelled. The door opened. "Clean this up."
Back at the house, Paulie handed Taryn a drink. "Why don't you stay here with me tonight, Taryn. I think we could both use some company we can trust."
"Paulie, in the garage you said that you I was the kind of woman you wanted to marry."
"I did say that, didn't I."
"Should I consider that to be a proposal, or just a line to get me into bed?"
"I was not trying to get you into bed."
"So, it was a proposal. Isn't it a little soon? I just became a widow."
"We'll put the wedding off for a year or so."
Taryn laughed.
"I'm serious," Paulie said.
Taryn stopped laughing. "I was joking."
"I'm not."
"You can't be trying to tell me you love me."
"I respect you and I trust you. I could fall in love with you. Taryn, you are everything I ever wanted, in a wife and in a friend. Spend your life with me. I'll give you the world."
"Paulie, I'm speechless."
Paulie kissed her. "Stay with me, forever."
She pulled him close and kissed him. She stayed.