The Gun - pt 2

He steps outside to blinding light. One thing the current south-west has going for it is a lack of cloud coverage. The sunlight bakes all it touches and shade is a rare item to find. It takes several moments for his eyes to adjust to the bright light. The first thing he notices is the buildings and streets. The streets are nothing but packed dirt. The buildings of the main street are built up in facade yet are nothing but rotting wood when you examine them closer. This is a dying a town, yet it is not uncommon in this part of the world. A crowd has gathered towards what appears to be the town square. Many of the townspeople are milling about and it seems as if the rest of the shops and buildings lining this main street have closed down for the day. Slowly, he makes his way forward. As he approaches the crowd the people stand aside and stare at him. Some of them peer at him in awe, some in trepidation, and most in uncertainty.

The path through the crowd is easy and he walks cautiously up to a wooden platform built in the middle of the square. On top of the platforms stands the woman that saved him and next to her is a man who bears the air of authority. The man is dressed in a long cut extremely weathered leather trench coat with a black cotton shirt and dark denim pants. The large excessively worn cowboy hat and boots hats lends to the atmosphere he is projecting. The body language of the woman and the arrogant stance of the man alerts John that this meeting may not be in his favor. She points to John as he is walking through the crowd and looks downwards in submission.

“You, there, sir!” barks the man with a deep gravelly voice. The whiskers of his mustache twitch and stand out from the rest of his graying facial hair. “C’mon up here. We need to have words.”

John does not slow his pace. He walks deliberately and cautiously up the ramps to the stage. He stares the man in the eyes the entire walk as he comes to rest in front of the man and what appears to be the whole town.

The man reaches to his side and pulls up a shotgun. He lets it rest, cradled in his arms, as a very serious reminder of the mood he appears to be in. “Matilda here says she found you out in the Wastes. She says you were half-dead, been picked over by bandits, and don’t remember a thing about it all. That true?” He eyes John suspiciously.

“Yes, sir. That is truth of it. I hardly have any memory of the time before waking up today in her house. My name’s John and I appreciate any help herself, you, or your people have given me. I will gladly repay you for your kindness.” he says with deliberate deference in his tone.

This takes the man by surprise. Perhaps he expected a fight of some kind. He clears his throat to by himself time as he contemplates what he was just told. “Yes, good...” He surveys the townspeople that have gathered here in the square. “That’s good, boy. That’s good. You see, I am Sheriff Westing and I’m the law around here. You get that? Whatever, and whoever, you were before don’t matter much out here. This is the town of New Home and that’s exactly what this becomes to all that travel here. Right, boys?” He nods to several burly and rough looking men behind him. They nod back slowly. Westing looks back and locks John’s gaze with his steel-gray eyes. “This is your new home. You’ll be helping Matilda for the moment, seeing as she don’t have a man now.” He steps forward slowly, the wooden boards beneath him creaking, as he leans in close to John. “This here is the only gun in town. Don’t you even think about running. I’ll get ya in the end.” He smiles mirthlessly showing yellowed teeth. “Just ask Matilda ‘bout what happened to her husband. I’ve shot one man named John. I’d hate to shoot another.” The Sheriff steps back and booms out to all “Ok, folks. That’s enough of a show for one day! Get back to work, the lot of ya. Go on!” The Sheriff turns around to speak with his lackeys.

John turns back around and steps toward Matilda. He reaches out a hand to touch her arm and she shies away. He nods silently and she steps forward to walk away from the square. He knows better than to push the issue so he doesn’t say a word until she shows that she is ready. Halfway back down the main street towards her shack she stops. She turns to John. He can see the tracks that line her face from dried tears. Her hands are clenched down by her side.

“I’m sorry, John. I truly am. I knew what would happen if I brought you back here. I couldn’t leave you out there, though! I couldn’t let you die... just like...” She stumbles on the words. Her voice cracking she struggles to continue. “You can’t run, you really can’t. That’s what....” She sighs deeply. “He left to get us help. He couldn’t bear our family living under the so-called protection that the Sheriff gives us. I told him that it’s a life, a safe life, and we should be grateful for what little we do have.” Her body is shaking from the mixed emotions running through her.

“Matilda... it’s alright.” John whispers to her. “It’s you I need to apologize to. I lied.” She looks up at him sharply. “I lied about my memories. There are some I have from before that I do remember and more are coming back as time is passing.” He pauses to lick his lips. He must choose his next words carefully. The woman has been through enough hardship recently. “I was attacked for something I was carrying. I knew I would be overwhelmed by the raiders and so I hid my gear near where you found me. I can’t remember what it is but I feel that what I was doing was extremely important and I am running out of time. I can’t stay here.” Her bottom lip begins to quiver. She looks up to him as her mouth opens to speak and her expression instantly turns to one of fear and apprehension. Her eyes are locked past him.

John immediately pivots to the side and drops into a defensive fighting stance. Two of the Sheriff’s large men strut towards them lazily. They both have makeshift wooden clubs that appear to have seen a lot of use. The thug on the right grins like a predator and says, “Don’t worry, man. This is just a reinforcement of the Sheriff’s chat.” The other thug’s face is deadpan. “Yeah, he just wants to make sure you understand the... severity of the situation.” The two men split apart encircling John cautiously. John knows this is a fight he can win but should not. However, he thinks to himself, they certainly expect him to fight back and he is willing to oblige them that much.

Matilda backs away quietly from the impending fight and grunts as she stumbles on a rock. The thugs take that as their cue and begin the assault. The grinning man launches himself forward. He obviously expects John to fully involve himself in the defense of his attack. John, however, sidesteps to his right and kicks out his right leg taking the serious thug squarely in the stomach. The first attack was a feint so that the other could blindside him.Their footwork was sloppy and they were broadcasting their intentions before acting them. As the man on the ground squirms trying to catch his breath John spins and brings his arms up crossed above his head. He catches the right forearm of the smiling fighter as he is bringing his club down. John grunts from the force of the blocked blow and digs his fingers deep into the flesh of the man’s arm. He spins around rapidly so that the thug is leaning on his back and drops his center of gravity. Using the weight of the man against him he kneels and surges forward arcing the thug over his head and slamming him down on his back in the packed dirt. John rears his right leg up and slams his foot down on the wrist of the right arm of the thug. There’s an audible crunch of bone snapping as the club pops up into the air and continuing his movement he snatches it with his right hand. The other fight is on his feet and charging him. John kneels down with the end of the club touching the ground and his left arm out in front of him. The thug swings out his club forcefully, but wildly, and John easily ducks under it. Using his left arm he slams into the side of the torso of the fighter throwing him off balance. Spinning John swings out the club with his right arm and slams it into the side of the man’s legs completing the thug's awkward fall back to the hard earth.

John senses another man behind him well before he hears Matilda’s scream. “I was thinking it was slightly unfair only have two versus one.” he says sarcastically. Suddenly there’s a bright blinding light as he is struck from behind and falls limply to the ground unconscious.



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