Sandra Harris looked up as the bell over the Dispatch Office door tinkled gently. Her visitor was not expected… today, or any day, for that matter.
"This is a dispatch office, Miss Harris, is it not?" the cadaverous man
replied. "I have a dispatch for you to deliver."
Sandra had some difficulty making out the silhouettes overhead, backlit by the bright noonday
sun. But they seemed to be men... with wings. Huge white wings that fairly glistened in the sun.
Heading north.
Internally, the manitou that ran herd on Jacynth Ambrose’s organic shell reveled in the
destruction. But appearances must be maintained. It ran a hand over a nearby bank of controls,
and a strange gun – mounted on mechanical legs rather then any sort of carriage – lurched out of
a corner, tracking the rampaging robot.
Another beam of light cut into SUZY’s flank from the other side of the warehouse. Jacynth
spared a glimpse for the sharpshooter, a white-clad scientist with a shock of blonde hair,
firing a huge hand weapon from atop the remodeled Death Bus.
Zarkov dropped to the ground with the agility of a man half his age, and strode over to the
Hellstromme representative. "Why in the name of Sam Hill did you order SUZY
reactivated?"
"A nice piece of work, that," Coleman admitted, somewhat admiringly. "Though I
figured you’d have to kill those two hired guns of Grimme’s to get the Bible."
Judiciously, Cain stepped back, letting Abel take the lead. The larger Angel tugged vaguely at one
ear and had the good sense to look sheepish. "We were attacked by the Sioux. They took the
Bible." He winced in anticipation of Elijah’s angry reply, and most likely a hail of blows… or worse.
"He’s got business elsewhere, Rhett." Garret looked up lazily from checking his
gun. "Like it said in the telegram."
Lin weighed the options for a moment, then prepared to leave, only pausing when he heard a
pebble dribble down the cliff side above. Instinctively, he brought the sickle in his right
hand up and around, preparing to meet the new threat head on.
Wall Crawler! Lin cursed. But what is it doing so far from the channels?
Cort sighed. "Sykes is a big boy. He had to learn sometime what he’s facing in Gomorra.
We’ve got our own assignment, and if we fail… there may be nothing left for Sykes to fight
for."
Iron Horse shrugged. "Eagle Rock and Walks-in-Footprints are in rare agreement. Gulgoleth
poses too great a danger. I understand your concerns about the Tree, but no one agrees that the
Dim Eyes’ attack on it has weakened us."
Buster Madison strolled along the boardwalk, absently whistling to himself. It had been a rough
night at the Casino Morongo; seemed all the gamblers on their way to Soddum had stopped in
Gomorra along the way. More than one fight had broken out, and Buster felt obliged to report
to the Sheriff on the collateral damage. A little "civic service" couldn’t hurt a
talented man of the felt, and he might be able to eliminate some competition to boot.
Cautiously, Buster tried the door. It was unlocked, which wasn’t unusual; Hunter had kept up
Coleman’s "open-door policy", figuring it was good for public relations. There wasn’t
much of anything inside worth stealing, except for Coleman’s badge mounted on the wall. And even
the Whateleys weren’t fool enough to swipe that.|
The Snitch came by earlier and warned me that something big is going down at Gulgoleth.
Everyone else is still out hunting Templeton. But someone has to look into this. I am already on
my way. If any of you get this message, follow as soon as you can. P.S. Radcliffe’s in charge while I’m gone. Jesse – make sure there’s a town left to come back to. Jessie – 6:45 |
Scowling, Jessie Freemont assessed the situation. The Law Dogs were undermanned and outgunned,
by the look of things. Nate, Olson, and Montreal were back in town, Powell and Flatbush were God
knows where, and he couldn’t trust newbies like Beenz and Cooper with something this important.
Radcliffe was a good man, for a performer, but he was going to have to man the shop.
"The men are ready, Jessie," Wendy said, returning with a crowd of newly appointed
deputies. "From what I can tell, the Union troops skirmished with something weird yesterday,
and spent last night recouping. They think the Confederacy was responsible. But the loners out on
the plains say Patterson’s men are miles away, and have problems of their own." She paused for
a moment, apparently thinking the same thing as Freemont. "This is only marginally within our
jurisdiction, Jessie. No one will think less of you if we leave the armies and the rest to duke it
out without us."
Elmo Schacci’s eyes were wide with loosely concealed panic. "Where’s… what??"
Susan slowed as she approached Elephant Hill. There was movement upon the cemetery’s central hill.
Ducking behind a nearby corner, she peered cautiously toward the motion and tried to make out the
invaders. Strange figures cavorted and danced in the graveyard, amidst corpses standing upright
and motionless. Genetic mutations of some sort, by the look of them, clad in mockingly cheerful
garments. Susan recognized a few of them from the circus outside of town. Members of
the "Troupe," no doubt. Franklin wasn’t aware the carnival freaks were working with
the Whateleys, but somehow it didn’t surprise her.
The other was Chinese, and wore wholly inappropriate white undergarments. Franklin held a pair of
magnifying spectacles to her eyes, and could just discern a bright flush to the woman’s cheeks.
If she was an ambulatory corpse, she was at least Class II, and maybe even Class I. She seemed
sluggish, almost dazed, as if newly awakened – or newly reanimated.
Zarkov must be informed! This is far more important than petty vengeance…