The Strong Ones

[bloodbathmaster2]

Afternoon sunlight drifted into the office window, reflecting the amber shadow of a bottle of whiskey across the wooden desk. One man’s cigarette filled the room with a hazy smoke that neither the two of them seemed to mind. “He was always the better man,� he said, glancing away from the window for a moment. “It took me a while to understand it fully, but hey- that’s what time’s for, right? Now listen, I know this might be much to ask. I’m not really sure I would have done it myself two years ago, to be honest.�
The other said nothing, for the moment pursing his lips. The sun was setting, and its fiery gaze reflected in the lense of his glasses.
“Adam, do you… hate him for what he did?� the first asked as he turned back towards the window. He loosened his skinny tie and put out his cigarette, waiting for an answer.
“Do I have the right to hate him?� Adam asked in response, “Does anyone? Does it even matter, and if that would it change your mind?

Yes. I hate him still.�
“…
…hmmm. A part of me had hoped you might have forgiven him. No matter. Please. Go. Follow the price on his head. It won’t be hard. Just find Titus and give him my regards.�
The last rays of the sun caught glint on the silver of a gun, for a second, just before it slipped behind the hills. Taking the revolver in hand, Adam raised his arm against its weight and looked down the barrel. Click. A squeeze of the trigger pulled it back and let the hammer fall. The barrel turned, reloading the chamber with another imaginary bullet.
"For Liana?"
"Don’t do this for Liana, Adam. Do this for yourself.�
“…alright. I think I can do that. Goodbye, Luke."
“Goodbye, my friend. And good luck.�

THE STRONG ONES

It had been nearly six weeks. Adam sat on a faded red stool and swirled his drink with a turn of his wrist. His eyes watched lazily. The last sip of whiskey sat waiting, yet he did not drink it. It was beginning to seem so hopeless. This was the fifteenth bar he’d seen since he’d left New Seattle. This was the fifteenth drink. And much the same as before he asked the same question. “Tell me� he’d say, pushing a ten-dollar bill forward across the bar, “What tales have you heard of the fifty thousand dollar man, Titus Meyers?� He’d heard them say he’s dead. Been dead for nearly a year. Once and a while, the barman might give him his money back, but mostly they took the cash. They’d say he came by going east. It was always east. First it took him past the military checkpoints along the mountains. Then crossing them, the rumors took him past the civilized lands. And yet further east still he went, on through the desert now, to a town in the hills where only a battered highway sign marked its name as Stoneholm.

The room was quiet enough to enjoy. There was really only him, the barman and three guys playing cards in the corner booth. Adam sighed. Pushing aside his glass, he knocked on the countertop. The barkeep came. “What’s your name?� Adam asked, looking up. He always asked for the barman’s name.
“The name’s Greg. What can I do for you? Another drink?�
“No. I’m looking for… information.� He pushed a ten-dollar bill towards Greg. “Tell me,� he said in a bored voice, “What tales have you heard of the fifty thousand dollar man, Titus Meyers?�
Greg laughed. “Take your money back, boy. I can’t help you with that one. Stoneholm’s a quiet town. We don’t get outlaws out here very often. Try Green Springs. I’m sure someone could help you there.�
“I came in from Green Springs,� Adam replied, nodding his face back down to his drink. As he stared at the whisky, he listened for a moment to the card game. They were playing for high stakes, it seemed. The game was never tense like that when no money was on the line. Someone’s name was referenced once in an accusation of cheating. It seemed to blow over though, and the room quieted down again.

Adam raised his eyes at the sound of a bell. The door swung open and the outside light flooded in. Someone came inside, a shadow of a man in a long coat and a hat. “’Afternoon, Flynn,� Greg said to the newcomer. He didn’t even have to look up. The town was small enough; he probably recognized him by footsteps alone.
“’Afternoon,� Flynn said, taking off his tattered brown fedora, bringing his face to light. He was an older gent, maybe thirty. He didn’t have a beard, but Adam saw a streak of gray in the man’s hair. It was usually the beard where old age hits. Adam scratched the stubble on his chin.
“Who’s the stranger, Greg? Another gun riding with the caravans?�
“Heh. You wouldn’t think it from the look of him, but that young man’s one of them bounty hunters.�
“Which kind? The regular ones or the hopefuls?�
“Oh, he’s a hopeful for sure. Just look at him. Heheheh!�
Flynn smiled. “What’s your name?�
“Adam.�
“Adam? ...pleased to meet you Adam. My name’s Flynn. Flynn Outwright. Might I offer you a drink; maybe some advice?�
“I already have a drink,� Adam said, shying his eyes away from the older man, “and I don’t take advice so well.�
“Heh. Don’t they all? Aw heck, I’ll leave you alone.�
“No… I’ll listen.�
“…alright. But… let me ask you a question first. Just what’re you doing in this nasty line of work you’re in?�
“I had a feeling it was going THAT question. The answer’s simple enough. It’s not so much my preference, as it is something I have to do.�
“I see… this man who you’re hunting. What’d he do? Did he hurt someone close to you?�
Looking up at Flynn, Adam’s eyes seemed distant, lost in memory for a moment there. A frown tugged at his lip, but he held it off well enough. “Yeah,� he said.
“I had a feeling it was going to be THAT answer. I know it’ll mean no difference to you, but sometimes men with a price on their head, they don’t mean to hurt those around them. It just happens that way.�
“You know, you’re right. It makes no difference to me.�
“Well just don’t go getting yourself killed, ok?�

Greg chuckled, searching for something behind the bar. “Hey Flynn, you picking up Maryl’s supplies again?�
“Yeah. She said she placed an order for four gallons of water, as usual. This time though she needed a box of machine parts too.�
“I remember well enough. I got it right here. The machine parts came in yesterday from Fort Osiris. It wasn’t cheap. They told me they were ambushed on the road. They wanted to charge me more, too. Said it was ‘hazard pay.’�
“How much will it be?�
“One hundred and sixty-three caps.�
“Is it ok if I use North Pacific bills?�
“You know that’s all right with me. That’s… $32.�

Standing, Adam swallowed the last of his whiskey. As the drink reached his stomach, he felt its warm fingers crawl up his chest. Shaking his head of the taste, the man pulled on his leather jacket and left three dollars North Pacific on the bar near the empty glass. It was a tattered brown thing, his coat. The emblem of the eagle had nearly faded away. It was old, passed down from someone’s great great granddad who fought in the War. United States Air Corp. 3rd Division. Taking a last glance at the room, Adam reached into his pocket for his glasses.
“No need for that,� Flynn said, taking the money from the bartop and handing it to the bounty hunter, “I’ll pay.�
Adam shrugged, taking the three dollars and turning towards the door. Ding. It swung open and the midday sun streamed into the place. “Thanks for the drink,� he said over his shoulder.
“Thanks for the conversation,� Flynn called back.

Outside of the bar, Adam recoiled from the light. He wasn’t used to the desert. Everything was so bleak, even up here in the hills. Most of the colors in the scenery served no real purpose but to reflect the harsh light back into your eyes. He blinked. The colors, bleak as they were, came back and soon enough he could see just fine.

The town of Stoneholm was a nice place for a town outside of the Confederate North Pacific. Back forty years, the citizens had fixed up some old generators and ran power for the first time since the bombs fell. With that, they reopened the old iron mine and the place grew as trade started up with towns to the west of Mount Rainier. The downtown district consisted of a fixed-up hotel, diner and a half-dozen assortment of shops. At some point, someone had turned the diner into a bar. It had probably happened just after the bombs fell and the long winter set in. It had been a miserable age then. Adam's granddad used to tell him stories of when men killed men over nothing but a single bottle of beer. Adam himself often wondered if that was really how much they wanted the drink, or if that was how low we had valued eachother’s lives.

The bounty hunter walked down the red dirt road, thinking for a bit to himself. That guy Outwright spoke the truth, even if their talk had only scratched the surface of what had really been on his mind. ‘Sometimes men… they don’t mean to hurt those around them.’ Indeed, it was his brother's own fault he had died. And in the end, Liana had gotten what she deserved. To be honest though, Adam never did think much about it. He had just wanted to forget. He supposed it was ironic. As the years passed, he grew to dwell on it. ‘Here I am,’ he said to himself, ‘a hundred miles from home, set to end this once and for all. I can do it. There's nothing inside of me that I'll allow to stop that. Ah. But should I?

...I can’t say.’

At the east edge of the town, the side of the hill dropped into a cliff, down down deep to a river that made its home down there. The mines were to the north and he could see them from here at the road’s end where the tram was built to bridge the chasm. The smoke of the smelters drifted high and made him think of rain. Heh. He wasn’t going to see any rain soon. Not if he kept going east. How much farther would he have to go? Could he chase the man to the end of the earth? A gust of wind rushed up from the canyon, rustling through his short blond hair. Was THIS the end of the earth? Cautiously, he took a step back from the canyon’s edge.

With one strong tug, Adam pulled the lever to call the tram. The sound of a motor sputtered into existence to his left and the faded red car lurched into motion on the other side of the canyon. It was going to take a minute. Seizing the opportunity, Adam sat down, his back to a chainlinked fence guarding the motor. An ancient yellow warning lay in the dust by his feet. DANGER! HIGH VOLTAGE! The dull electric hum filled his ears as he closed his eyes and took a resting breath. It was going to be six hours to the next town.

What would a passerby think of him, he wondered. What would a stranger think in his head if he saw this tired young man sitting there in his jeans and jacket, slumped against a fence, his mind filled with the most cruel of machinations. Then again no stranger could possibly understand, not unless they themselves have buried a brother they loved. Then they might begin to feign understanding. But even they, they don't see Liana's happiness every day. Every day since... it hurts so damned much.

He remembered the funeral. Putting the two coin on Laurence's eyes, he had said the prayer. The preacher said amen and they stepped away. Someone pushed the coffin into the fire and that was the end of it. There was no one crying. There was really no one there. One or two friends. No other family. Liana didn't come. Adam was glad that she hadn't. He might have hit her. He hit Luke. Luke didn't much mind. He had just gotten up, given Adam a hug and left. Maybe he felt guilty. When he and Luke met the next day at the factory, it was as if nothing had happened. He invited Adam to dinner, but Adam declined. Eventually, it was probably a few weeks later that he did come for dinner, he saw Liana for the first time since Laurence's death. She said nothing. No one said anything. Things resumed as normal and Adam tried as hard as he could to forget what had happened.

The motor stopped. The sound of its final wheeze woke him from the memory. His nose caught a terrible burning smell and a black smoke started to drift past. 'Great,' he said to himself, seeing the tramcar stopped ten feet out, 'It broke.' Adam stood, sighing, and walked to the edge. The car was empty. It was a relief. He didn't want to have to jump and try to rescue anyone. He was too tired for that. The bounty hunter turned and headed back to town. He'd have to get a room for the night. If the tram wasn't fixed by morning, he'd have to cross the gorge by foot and that'd take all day.

Adam walked back towards town, his back to the plume of smoke that drifted from the motor. Someone was bound to see it before night fell, but it'd probably get fixed quicker if he told someone about it. The barman Greg seemed like he might know who to tell. He could probably point Adam in the right direction of a bunkhouse or hotel too. It didn't take long to reach the bar. The sign outside swayed in the breeze. It pictured a full pitcher of beer and had no printed words. Why bother with words? It honestly wouldn't surprise Adam if half the town's population couldn't read.

He was reaching for the bar’s door when he heard the sound of shouting. He recognized one of the voices and a remembrance of the card game came to him. Things were getting out of hand. A hollow crack shot through the air. Very out of hand. Another shot echoed, this time followed by the sound of shattering glass. The front window of the building shattered just to his right and someone came rolling out of the cavity. Adam was a bit too stunned to react. Watching, he saw a man in a long gray coat leap out after the first, kicking away his weapon and grabbing him by his hair. It happened so very fast. When a gunshot from inside sounded, the man in gray used the first as a shield.

There was a spray of blood and the man hit screamed out and, coughing for a second, died. Dropping him, the other man raised his head and he and Adam locked eyes for a moment. It was Flynn, he realized. Looking away, Flynn turned to face his attackers. There were two more of them, stepping over the shattered lip of the window. They were both armed. Outwright wasn't. A voice inside of Adam told him that this wasn't fair. He slowly came to his senses and reached to his side. Drawing his gun, he began to load it while Flynn tried to reason with the men.
"Please," he said, "stop this! I don't want anyone else to die!"
One of the two men snarled and fired off another round. Flynn ducked and the bullet missed.
"Its too late for that now, you hic. If you'd just kept to yourself, you wouldn't have to die."
"All I wanted was to stop you from killing yourselves. It was just a game, damnit! Where’s your comradeship?!"
"Comradeship?" The man laughed. Turning his aim, he pointed the small gun he had at his companion. Another crack echoed in the air.
"NO!"
"There now. You tried for nothing."
"...why? God damnit, why?" Flynn's voice had died down to a whisper.

"Hang on now," Adam interrupted as he brought his own weapon to aim with both hands. The afternoon sun glistened in his glasses and hid his eyes. His jaw was set; his feet held their ground. "He's unarmed."
"Give me a break," the man said, and as he took his eyes off of Flynn, though even for the slightest of moments, Outwright moved. He moved so fast that no one really saw. No one noticed his charge until he was only five feet from the broken window and his fist came barreling at the armed thug. It hit the man’s cheek like a train and he was thrown to the ground. There was a moments pause, but the man had passed unconscious. Flynn relaxed himself.

People were beginning to gather, attracted to the commotion. It was a silent crowd, though. As Flynn stood up, he saw them and took an unwary step back. The barman appeared, the ding of his door lost to anyone’s attention. “Y… you…� he stammered, pointing at Flynn, “you…�
“I’ll pay for the window,� Flynn said, finding his own voice again.
“You were so fast…�
Flynn pulled his hat down over his eyes.
“I wouldn’t have ever guessed,� Greg said, “such a man lived here...�
“I guess you figured wrong saying there weren’t any outlaws in Stoneholm,� Adam said, his voice turned cold as ice. Slowly, he tilted his gun towards Flynn. “I’ve heard legend of a man who can move as fast as that. His name is Titus Meyers.�

"Titus Meyers?" Flynn laughed, "Adam, you're too eager to find the man if you think that I'M Titus Meyers." Slowly he reached down and took the purse off of the man he had knocked unconscious. Adam could hear the quiet sound of rattling moneys as Flynn tossed the bag to Greg. “There should be enough in there. If not, I'm sure the other two have something.�
“You’d better get out of here before the sheriff shows up, Flynn.�
He nodded. “Adam, put the gun down and come over here. I’m going to need your help. Help me carry these things. I'll grab the water. You take the machine parts. I'm sure Maryl' let you stay for dinner. The tram broke, didn’t it? That’s why you came back, right? It does that sometimes. You’re welcome to stay the night, too."

But Adam didn’t move. His fingers wrapped tight around the gun, his eyes had Flynn in sight. But Adam didn’t move, not even to squeeze the trigger. “Adam?� the older man said, “Just what are you doing? Put it down.� The barrel of the gun tilted a little. His grip lightened and he nodded his head as the light didn’t glare off of his glasses. Slowly, he lowered his arm. “I guess… yeah. I guess maybe I am a bit too eager.� Flipping the gun forward, he opened the chamber and spilled the ammunition into the street.

Flynn had already hoisted the yoke onto his shoulders. “Now grab the parts,� he said.
“…I’m sorry.�
“Don’t worry about it. Just grab the parts.�
There was a second of silence before Adam complied. Putting his revolver away, he walked the ten feet to where Flynn stood. The glass crunched underneath as he stepped forward, shifting as he stopped and bent down to pick up the wooden crate Greg had brought outside. The parts weren’t too heavy. They were, as Adam noted, a handful of replacement pieces for an automobile’s engine. Heaving them to chest level, he opened his mouth to say something, but closed it without a word. Flynn smiled. “Let’s get out of here.�

They walked, Flynn leading the way though he walked a little slow. The crowd of people that had gathered had disappeared as fast as it formed;.a fight was unusual here no doubt, but no one tried to stop them. “You’d let me stay the night, then?� Adam asked when they’d turned the corner, stepping forward to walk alongside him.
“That’s what I said.�
“And Maryl… is she your wife?�
“Wife? Eheheh. I never thought of her as such… but …but I guess it’s not far from the truth. I take care of her, you see.�
“Well how long have you known her?�
“About a year now. You have a wife back west?�
“No. My luck with women was never any good. My brother, though…�
Flynn turned his head. “Your brother? …tell me about him.�
“Huh? Why?�
“It’s the way you spoke the word. It holds… strong feelings.�
“You catch on fast,� Adam had to admit. “My brother Laurence,� he said, “died two years ago. I loved him. As a brother. As far as men went though, he was the worst of the worst. He had power that he abused. He was terrible to his wife. I’m fairly sure he was a murderer, too. But I loved him.�
“That’s a sad thing, then, to have lost him.�
“Yeah…�

They walked past the last of the buildings along the main road, taking a smaller dirt path to a handful of farms. They walked through the dry fields, moving on to the last house. “…this is your place?� Adam looked at the building ahead. It was an ancient wooden thing, and if it wasn’t built in the desert, it wouldn’t have survived as long as it had. About a half-mile from town, it was secluded and seemed more than inviting enough to spend the night. As they came closer, he could see the house had once been painted blue. It was but a memory now, mere flakes remaining as a cast-off shell of the past. Still, there was an energy about it Adam normally didn’t see in pre-war buildings. As best he could describe it, he called it ‘hope.’
“It’s a nice place you have… Flynn,� he said.
The older man only shook his head. “You still think I’m Titus, don’t you?�

“No,� Adam said, thinking for a moment. Their pace had taken them nearly to the house now. Adam stopped, shifting his weight and looking around. An ancient old tree grew near the house, and the rusted roof of an automobile poke through the high grass somewhere to the left. A goat was sleeping at the foot of the porch step. Flynn walked on, the porch boards giving a creak as he stepped upon them. “You can put the parts down here,� he said. Then he disappeared inside, leaving Adam alone. Gently putting the crate down near the door, he stretched himself and waited.

Walking to the far side of the porch (it was a long porch, spanning the entire way across the front of the house, with the door and stair to the left), Adam saw a chair in the shade and sat down. It felt good to rest himself again. The load of gears and such were not so light as they had seemed and his shoulders were sore. He leaned back and the chair rocked. It made Adam smile a little. His mom had had a chair like this one. When she died it had gone to Laurence and when he had died it had been auctioned off, along with the house, to pay for the funeral.

Behind himself, Adam heard Flynn coming back outside. “There you are,� the older man said, peering down the length of porch. He had lost his hat and coat somewhere inside and there were two bottles in his left hand. Sitting down in a matching chair, he offered Adam one. It was already open and the would-be bounty hunter took a long drought from it. And nearly spat it out.
“Hey! This is water!�
Flynn Outwright looked at Adam for a second and said, “Of course it’s water. It’s still only midday.�
Adam consented and took another drink.
“Listen… thanks for saving my life back there,� said Flynn. He said it just before he took a drink himself.
“I don’t think I deserve a thanks. You saved yourself.�
“Even so,� he said, “thank you.�
“Yes. Thank you,� echoed a voice from the other end of the porch. Adam turned and saw a woman in her late twenties come out of the house. She was dressed quite simply, wearing only a pair of jean overalls and a buttoned white blouse underneath, but like the house she carried along with her an aura he couldn’t help but admire. As she brushed her copper red hair behind her ears, she addressed Adam again. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d have lost Flynn.�
“You must be Maryl,� Adam said, offering his hand.
She walked over and shook it politely. Then taking Flynn’s bottle she took a drink and sat down on the rail with her back to the sun. “Adam, I presume?�
He nodded.
“Are you staying the night, Adam?�
He nodded.
“That’s good of Flynn to invite you. Letting you stay is the least we can do to thank you.�
“Really, no thanks are necessary.�
“Nonsense.�
“Nonsense, indeed,� Flynn said as he took back his water, “it’s a sad day when hospitality is forgotten.�
“I don’t think he was trying to refuse,� Maryl said.
“I guess we’ll never know. I just wouldn’t expect too much for a man from the Confederacy to know courtesy is all.�
“Well if the Confederacy can produce such fine men as yourself, then they must be doing SOMETHING right.�
Adam laughed a little. Maryl did too. Flynn joined, reluctantly.

“So� Maryl said, taking Flynn’s drink as she did. “What are you doing in Stoneholm, Adam?�
“Just passing through.� The words seemed to have crept past his lips. Then again he wasn’t sure of what else to say. Did he say what business he had with an outlaw that killed his brother? No. She hadn’t asked his life story. ‘Just passing though’ would have to do.
“Where to then?�
“… I’m… actually, I’m looking for someone.�
“Really? Who?�
“Ah… it’s… embarrassing to say. I’m looking for a man with a bounty on his head.�
“Well I hope you find him,� she said conversationally, standing up and giving a glance at Flynn. “Do you want me to fetch you guys some lunch? No? Well I’ll be inside then.� Flynn smiled back, watching her go back inside. When the sound of her exit was gone, a silence fell on the two men. Some people are afraid of that silence. Who knows what about it they are so terrified by, but neither Adam or Flynn seemed to mind. The afternoon continued on and Adam simply sat there, staring at the sky. Occasionally, a wisp of steam or smoke passed by. It was relaxing. At first his mind had wanted to think. His mind had wanted to search himself for answers to questions, to go over a thousand hypothetical conversations and win himself over to be a better personal than he could ever truly be. When that stage of thought had passed and his mind cleared away, Adam only wished it could stay that way.

The goat bleated a cry and Adam opened his eyes. Nothing much seemed out of the ordinary, but Flynn was squinting his eyes, staring into the distance. Adam tried as much, scanning the rotted timbers of a dozen neighboring farms. If something was out there… it wouldn’t be hard to hide. Tall brown grass hid most everything, and the taller shrubs and derelict buildings would provide more than enough cover for a grown man. The only place one couldn’t hide was in the beaten dust of the road. But something seemed to bother Flynn. Maybe something was out there, if only a foul wind.

“I almost regret what happened today,� Flynn said, his brow wrinkled. “People might get… ideas.�
“I don’t think anyone’s out there.�
“Maybe not. And you and I probably wouldn’t be talking now if it hadn’t happened.�
“…maybe.�
“Let me show you something,� the man said as he stood, grabbing the crate of machine parts and stepping off of the porch. There was a small, beaten path that wound through the grass and came around the corner of the house. There was a garage back here, and a small clearing before it. Flynn walked across the cracked concrete patio and passed by the forgotten pole of a basketball hoop. Adam followed, his hands in his pockets. As Flynn opened the garage door, he looked inside, trying to see in the darkness. The blue of a tarp was draped over something. The faint smell of crude gasoline hit his nose. “Ever since I first met Maryl, I’ve worked on this,� Flynn said. He walked into the shade and pulled the tarp off of the large shape. “One day, we’ll leave here. One day, we’ll find the better place out there.�

It was a car as Adam had guessed. It was, though, beyond his imagination. Fresh blue paint shone in the light. Polished chrome glistened. The words Chryslus Moters were still attached to the side of the car. The man had restored this machine to such a condition Adam had never seen before. That aura, that hope he’d felt outside, it was tenfold here. As he poked his head inside of the cavity of the passenger window, he saw most everything was in order. Several crates had even been stored in the back, filled with supplies such as water, food, cigarettes. “Why,� he asked, hesitation in his voice, “are you showing me this?�

“Because I trust you.�
Adam stared at the man. Was he… mad? There were no other words for it. Trust was a strong word, and no one put trust in a stranger. And especially no one put trust in a stranger who’d put one’s self at the wrong end of a firearm. His suspicions of the man echoed in his head. He watched Flynn open the hood and take a toolbox from a workbench along the wall. Maybe… but then… maybe he actually knew Adam knew that he really was the man he was looking for. Even then, he’d have only reason to distrust him more. ‘You catch on fast,’ he’d observed of the man. What was it Flynn had put his trust in? The question would stick in his mind throughout the evening.

--

Adam loved the stars. Nighttime came but once a day and he never missed its rise. The heavens never aged. It was the stars that marked the passage of time, those immortal titans sitting silent in the sky. The earth was ravaged by the shifting of its continents and razed by the bombs of its peoples, but the heavens never aged. As a boy, he’d read of a time long past when man had reached for the heavens. As a boy he’d wished he’d been alive then, to dream their dream and see it come to life. It was a childhood fancy to gaze above when the sun sank away. He’d never stopped dreaming either. As a man, he sat on the roof of the house, wishing as always the clock could go both ways.

Here he sat, alone. Memories came to him. He and Luke used to sit on his roof in the old days, before Liana. That woman, he thought, she was the end of it all. Laurence had met and married her when they were both young. She was such a beautiful girl, too. Adam could only admire at his brother’s gain. The marriage was a sham. It was obvious soon enough. Behind those long, dark locks and milky skin was forged a woman, sad inside and growing strong of will. Two years passed. She had miscarried Laurence’s child, and their relationship grew unsteady. He beat her. And all this time Adam’s best friend had hardly known her. It seemed to happen so suddenly that Luke Meyers began to mention her name. Sitting on his roof, looking up above, this was where it had all began, wasn’t it?

When Laurence had discovered the affair, Liana left him. He made threats against her life. He swore to kill Luke and destroy everything that he held dear. These were not hollow threats, either. With a small and corrupt political backing, he could easily have made them ‘disappear.’ But seeing Adam caught in the middle of this, he proposed instead to a duel of honor. If Luke was to die, then at least he would die defending himself and the woman he loved. Luke never died in that duel though. Pushed aside that day by his own brother, Luke only watched as Titus took his place. He could still feel the drop in his heart as Luke’s older brother raised the shining steel of his revolver and pulled back the trigger. No one had expected him to be so fast.

Bang.

The same gun was in Adam’s hands now. Titus had left it behind when he had fled Seattle. The bounty Laurence’s friends put on his head was the beginning of the legend. One by one, by killing the men who tried to kill him, the price for Titus’ life only grew. Somewhere he’d grown tired of it though. Somewhere he’d dropped the name and picked up a tattered brown hat instead and Flynn Outwright was born. Meeting Flynn made Adam think it was a mistake to come this far. Flynn had no need of guns. He’d shed himself of that life. He pulled the revolver out of its holster and looked at it, thinking. Maybe he’d just go home. Maybe he’d just give the gun back to Luke and tell him all about this man named Flynn and the wonderful woman he had found out here.

Maybe. The word rest uneasy on his tongue as he reached for the pewter cup of water he’d brought up here with him. He took a drink and considered it. If he was going to leave he’d do it now, in the cover of night. He’d do it soon and get out of Flynn and Maryl’s lives. He knew his presence here was making them uncomfortable. So if he just stood and left right now he’d be doing the right thing. Slowly, he took another drink and his resolve strengthened. He’d have to leave. But, not right now. He could still hear them awake downstairs. He could hear someone walking along the porchboards below. He’d wait until they went to sleep.

Adam crawled to the edge and looked down. Flynn smiled back at him, the lit tip of a cigarette illuminating his face. “Yo,� he said.
“Hey,� Adam said back, hesitating before adding, “Listen, I’m sorry for being a burden on you and Maryl.�
“Don’t worry about it. Heh. I guess I was wrong thinking you didn’t know your manners.� Taking a breath of his cigarette, he gestured for Adam to come down. “You know, you shouldn’t keep to yourself so much. Open up your mind. You’ll feel better.�
“Maybe.�
Flynn shrugged. “There’s some beer in the fridge. Why don’t ya grab some and we can talk?�
Adam looked down at him for a second, thinking. Slowly, he set down his cup and crept to the window. The floor creaked under his weight as he climbed down from the window and let his eyes adjust to the candlelight. His ears caught the sound of the radio downstairs. It was a jazz tune, and a familiar voice sang through the static. Adam walked across the room and opened the door.

The opened door faced the staircase down. The music got louder. As he stepped downstairs, he saw the weed light was on. Maryl was inside, taking a break from cleaning the dishes. As he saw her, he smiled. She smiled back weakly, leaning against the counter. The bottles in the fridge clanked as he opened it, taking out a beer and offering it to her. But she didn’t respond. Something seemed offsetting about that. It was… there was something in her face that showed concern. Looking at her, he thought of a way to breach the subject. She seemed… almost… scared.

Her eyes widened as he looked. Adam’s brow raised, his expression puzzled. Raw fear glinted in her face and his mind tried franticly to understand. It was only when he caught the refection of something in the brown glass of the bottles that a calm came over him. He reacted, his nerves calm as steel. But it was too late. As he twisted to avoid it, a gunshot tore through Adam’s stomach and his gaze faced upwards for a moment, before his body shuddered as he hit the ground. The focus he had on the world slipped away.

Nat King Cole sang throughout the darkness, his voice through that radio the only thing Adam could focus on. His will too strong to give in, Adam lay conscious as his blood began to pour across the weed tile. After a minute he thought he could hear things beside the music. They sounded distant. Like he was across a field from them, he heard shouts and screams. The gun remained silent, but Adam feared it would echo again and Maryl or maybe Flynn might be lost. It seemed too distant, though. There was nothing Adam could do and a part of him asked to just surrender to the fatigue.

No.

Feeling vigor still within, Adam pulled himself into a sitting position. The dull pain he had felt before flared into a firestorm that was consuming his belly. His left hand was slick with his blood and it felt weaker that his right. Vaguely, he could feel another pain in his arm. He must have landed on it. Trying to ignore that, he focused his mind. Those distant sounds grew louder and the haze that clouded his vision cleared if only a little.

“Stop� a voice echoed, somewhere out there, “I’ll kill her!�
“What do you want?� asked Flynn, a tone of desperation in his voice. Adam tried focusing on the sound.
“Ah. First, I just wanted your bounty, but then I asked myself, seeing this pretty little thing here, why take the seed when you could have the apple, eh?�
“You leave her out of this!�
“Ahahahahahahahaha! Don’t you worry yourself, old man. I won’t hurt a hair on her head if you do as you’re told. I saw that car of yours out back. I saw the goods you’ve loaded into its back. It works, doesn’t it?�
“You want the Corvega?�
“Oh but that’s not all. You’re going to give me all your money, too. You’ve got to make it worth my while not to kill you and take the money off your corpse. Or maybe,� he said, pushing the gun a little harder against the woman’s head, “I can take the money’s worth out of her instead.�
“NO!�
The shouts screamed through Adam’s head. Parts of his mind began to churn as he drew his energy from Flynn’s despair. His muscles groaned and lifted him to his feet. A dribble of blood splashed on the floor as he stood, holding onto the refrigerator for support. His good hand reached to his side, pulling out the revolver. It shone so brilliantly then, searing silver light against such dim a backdrop.

“You knocked me out today,� the intruder said, “you embarrassed me and got in my way. Now, sir, you will pay for your mistake.�
“Please,� Flynn pleaded.
Adam fumbled with the bullets in his pocket. His bloody hand dropped one of them. There were only two others and his trembling fingers loaded them with terrible difficulty. As he closed the cylinder, his thumb cocked the hammer and his arm brought the machine to aim down the hall. The target was too far. They were outside and only a blur. Staggering forward, he focused his eyes as best he could. His glasses were gone but he tried anyway. The red of Maryl’s hair came first, then the shape of her body and the man who held a gun to her head. Still, Adam crept closer until he could see Flynn too. He stood in the frame of the door. The intruder did not seem to see him. Flynn’s face turned, though. Adam whispered, pulling the trigger, “Have trust.�

The recoil of the shot pulsed through his arm. He watched as Maryl fell from her captor’s grip and the captor himself stumbled forward. It seemed he might fall, but as he regained his balance, Adam brought the gun to aim again. Another blast rocked the scene and the man was thrown to the porchboards. Blood was spilled everywhere. Adam seemed unconvinced, aiming again and pulling the trigger. Click. Click. Click. He fired empty chambers at the body. Somewhere in the haze of the moment, he heard Maryl crying. Click. He couldn’t stop. His finger was twitching. Only when Flynn grabbed his shoulders did he lower the weapon. Luke’s brother hugged him hard, and he older man’s tears dripped on Adam’s neck. Adam was crying, too. Dropping, the gun, he felt the energy draining from him. Slowly, he pushed Flynn away and sat down on the porch.

He could feel Flynn check his wound, prodding the bullet hole and pulling off his shirt to use as a bandage. Adam’s tears began to stop and using some of his energy, he smiled. “Don’t talk,� Flynn said, “You lost a lot of blood, but… I think you’re gonna be ok. Just hang on.�

“I… I got him,� Adam said, “I took a shot to save a friend. Just… like you, Titus.�
“I know you did, Adam.�
“I understand now, why Luke forgave you. He… wanted me to tell you he was sorry for hating you then.�
“Is that why you came looking for me?�
“…yeah. He wanted to give you back your dad’s gun and say he was wrong for hating you, for taking that shot for him.�
Flynn began to smile too. “Did Luke ever tell you about that gun?�
“No. I don’t think he ever did.�
“That gun has a story to it. Our dad got it from his dad, and his dad got it from his best friend, who died to save him. The tale goes like this: our granddad and his friend were part of a caravan that ran from Seattle to the eastern towns. It was wintertime and they got stuck in the mountains during a fierce snowstorm. It was the worst they’d had seen in years and as they could not proceed. It was only a matter of time before they and their comrades were going to starve to death. So it was our granddad and his friend who left the caravan to get help. It was the most dangerous thing they could have done, as the nearest town was dozens of miles away and without food or shelter they probably wouldn’t make it.

The danger only grew when after two days of bitter struggle, they found out they were being tracked by wolves. Surely this would have been the end. That night, our granddad and his friend made a shelter and prepared to make a stand. The beasts came in with the sunset and the two of them fought valiantly. Our granddad’s friend had this revolver and when he ran out of ammo, he gave it to our granddad, who still had a rifle and some bullets left. He told our granddad to run for it, that he would distract the wolves long enough for him to escape. That was the way it was. Our granddad survived thanks to his friend. Since then, our family had only used his gun out of valor and honor. That gun embodies our debt we have to our friends and our family.�

“You never told me this,� Maryl said, holding on to Flynn’s hand.
“There’s a lot of things about my past I’ve hidden from you, Maryl. I’m only sorry that you have to hear them now.�
“But there’s nothing to be ashamed of!�
“I… maybe there isn’t…�
“No. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,� said Adam, feeling a little of his strength returning.
“Even so,� Flynn said, pulling Maryl close, “For your sake, I’ve put that behind me. I cannot be Titus Meyers so long as I have to watch over you, my dear.�
“He’s right,� said Adam.
“But you can’t just abandon who you were!�
“Maybe he doesn’t have to.�
Maryl looked to Adam without understanding.
“I have Titus’ gun,� he said, “no one really knows what he looks like. I could play the part of the outlaw for a while and you two can live in peace as Mr. and Mrs. Outwright.�
“You would do that?�
“Just give me the car and I’ll lead all the suspicions away from you and your lady. Let me be the hero for today.�
“I… I don’t know what to say,� Flynn stuttered.

“A thank you will do.�

“…thank you, Adam.�
“Don’t mention it,� he said, laughing. The supposed bounty hunter stood and grimaced against the pain. He looked down at the corpse of the gambler from the bar. He had hit him twice him the back. He’d have to work on his aim, but then again, that’s what time’s for, right? A remembrance of his friend Luke came and he smiled to himself. Walking off of the porch, he looked above to the heavens. Maybe he’d never reach the stars, but then again who really can? He’d do his best here on Earth and maybe that would be enough. Maybe he could be content with that. Looking back at Maryl and Flynn he knew he was going to do the right thing.

The sliver of his revolver flashed in the moonlight as he holstered it. This was where it ended. Or maybe this was where it really began. Only the heavens truly knew.

[bloodbathmaster2]

Its been a while since I've written any PA fiction. I hope you guys enjoy this.