Jim West and Artemus Gordon checked out a couple of buildings together. But Jim came to the conclusion that such would go better, if they split up.
"Artie, you go across the street and check those buildings out, while I continue checking out the buildings on this side of the street."
"Sure thing, Jim."
Artemus began walking across the dirt street, making his way toward one of the first buildings to run parallel to Jim's side, in order to check it out for any survivors.
Even though neither Special Secret Service agents had the foggiest notion as to why the finding of another living soul in the Devil's Pithfork would be considered a "survivor". Survivor to what?
Jim stepped through the swinging doors of the local saloon. His right hand hanging with implied purpose near his holstered weapon. Whatever was behind the mass disappearence of an entire town would not count him as one of it's "victims".
Not without a fight, at any rate.
"Hello?" called out Jim West, as the one-word query fell like a thudding body within the acoustically-deprived all wood interior of said bar. "Anyone here?"
Hearing no response, which he really did not expect, Jim began his search of the first floor of the two-floor structure, in an attempt, albeit a possible vain one, to find anything that would shed light upon what had happened to this town.
First, Jim West searched behind the bar. Looking for any sign of a victim or struggle. All he found was a short selection of whiskey bottles. None of which bore the slightest hint of being unused or unmoved for any length of time exceeding a complete day.
Sucn was when he decided to expand his search to the rear room, which was being used as storage...
There came a loud noise off to Jim's right, along with the glimpse, out of the corner of his eye, of something or someone rapidly running away.
Drawing his weapon, swiftly and smoothly, Jim quickly dashed to the side of the rear room where the sound had originated, and where the glimpse of someone running away was detected via his 20/20 vision.
As he made it to that area of the rear room, he saw yet another example of something being overturned. Quite probably on purpose. This time it was a crate of whiskey that had been resting atop a second, but was now lying upon its side upon the wood floor.
Such was when he made a rather startling discovery...
There was no place for someone to exit the rear room or the building. The walls were as solid as the floor. But such suggested, to an agent who had seen trap doors and trick walls many times during his stint as such, that there could indeed be a secret exit from said room upon the first of two floors in the saloon.
Such would be when the first discovery would be made by Jim West...
"Ooff!"
A trap door opened beneath his booted feet. Dropping him fast and sure from the saloon's ground floor to something beneath the ground. Beneath the bar. Quite probably something that ran the width and breadth of the entire empty town.
All while Artemus Gordon carried out his search of the buildings on the opposite side of the dirt street. Feeling that something might be wrong, Artemus stepped out onto the wooden sidewalk and called out for his partner and fast friend...
"Jim? You find anything? Jim? Jim!"
Suddenly, a sick feeling, in the pit of Artemus' stomach, told him that this strangely silent, and empty, town had just claimed another victim...
Special Secret Service Agent James West.