Chapter V:

Ghost Town Gunfight


Gideon


I woke early, still relishing a dreamless sleep as I sat up and began to don my gear. The Pip-Boy light illuminated the still dark room as I dressed, the internal clock informing of the fifth hour. Finally I moved to the Colt, still in its holster. I knew consciously that they had been buried in the dirt for an unknown amount of time, I had been lucky I hadn't had need of it when I found it. I sighed, and grabbed my bag, unzipping an inside pocket along the inside of the main hold.

I reached in and pulled my bundle of tools, as well as a can of oil. I sat down and began then muscle memorized procedure of taking apart the pistol, then cleaning away any filth that had found its way in the main compartments. Then I washed it down thoroughly with the gun oil, wiping it down and then pull it back together again. After this, I reached into the bag and found another bag hidden away in a compartment. This however was a conversion kit for the Browning.

Prior to the US Army acceptance of the N-80, the grandfather of the N-99, the LAPD found that the 9mm didn't have the adequate stopping power necessary in the heavy rise of crime. So a new version with a heavy duty slide was created both for the .40 and .45 ACP. I had the latter here. In addition to the caliber change, a new cartridge magazine was developed to share with the 1911.

As I began to remove the slide and barrel, I noticed the inscription on the side of the .45 slide:

A man is never too weak, when the cause is greater than his life.

"Yeah that sounds just about right, Oenomaus. Especially in your case."

I made a mental count of both ammunition, and number of magazines; of which I had a grandstanding eight, but only half of these were loaded.

"I'm going to need more. Lot's more."

I then placed the load clips into the empty ammo pockets on the side of my pistol belt, and slung on the bandoleer. Then I slid Parabellum into my right boot, locking on the sheath catch. The coat went next, and then I shouldered my bag and the 20 gauge. Finally, I placed the boonie hat on my head and head out the door. The dawn was yet to come, but I could begin to see light creeping up over the horizon like long spider legs. I began walking out into town, and I was surprised to find a good majority of the town up, running about and constructing long running walls of cover along the north and south sides of the town.

I nodded approvingly, some part of me somehow approving their course of action. The walls were of strong timber and sandbags, carefully arranged to where they formed two layers of cover, with caches place every five yards with ammo and guns. However most of these were still empty. Another mental note, talk to the towns' armorer about the surplus issue. I walked on, my first stop would be the Doc's then I would visit the shop. As I passed the Saloon, I could see patrols of 3 moving about, a few to my left and right.

When they passed by, they saluted and nodded in my direction. I just put on a good face and kept on walking. Then out of the corner of my eye, Trudy and an older man with a thick white beard and a rawhide hat approached.

"Mornin' Gideon!" Trudy shouted in my direction, "Listen! I need your help!"

"What's up?" I said, pulling an about face and walking up to her.

"We're havin' supply problems—"

"More like an idiot problem…" grumbled the old man. Trudy gave him an annoyed look, and the old man just shook his head.

"So what's the problem?" I asked.

"Town's shopowner's refusing to give up badly needed ammo and armor without a price, which we can't pay."

"Where is he?" I asked. She pointed over to a neighboring building marked General Store. I nodded and headed inside.

"Morning Partner!" A voice called out as I entered the room. He was in his early 30's, extremely tanned and was almost completely covered in dark, black hair.

"Name's Chet and I wop-!" He shouted as I grabbed him by his lapels and slammed him against the wall.

"Chet, I was shot not a week ago, so my patience is a little thin. This town's about to be attacked by ruthless convicts who are probably gonna kill everybody and burn this town to the ground." I growled into his face, so close I could hear his soft, pathetic whimpers. Chet was a kind of person who wanted the piece of the pie, but wanted a bit of everybody else's without a worth of sweat. They can't be reasoned with. Instead you have to make the attempt not worth the work.

"So what do want me to do?"

"I need you to give Trudy her requisition so this town can have an even chance of surviving the next few days, and you can keep running this shop."

Chet visible gulped, and oddly enough I grinned wolfishly.

"Now," I continued, "You got any .45 ammo I could buy? I will pay of course."


I walked out of the shop, forty rounds filling the pouches on my belt snuggly with an extra lump of surplus in my bag. I paid for the ammo and got a little extra from the sold N-99 and ammo. I was richer by 140 caps, a decent price, with some extra gear making up for the loss of weight. Trudy and the old man appeared from the sideline:

"That was fast," commented the old man, "You kill him?"

"Nope; but your requisition is coming in, free of charge. Now if you don't have anything else, Trudy, I've got some business to take care of."

She nodded, and I continued up the hill towards the Doc's house. As I approached the house, the front door opened and Doc step out, a hand spread out invitingly.

"Gideon!" Mitchell shouted cheerfully, "Please come in!"

I did so, walking into the old home once more. My eyes immediately drifted to the operating table, finding it empty. I felt a hand grip more shoulder reassuringly:

"She's sleeping Giedon. Not to worry she'll make a full recovery. Listen I need to talk to you, sit please."

I sat once more on the old and rather lumpy couch, Mitchell moving to the chair in front.

"Have you been remembering things?"

"Well that's a little blunt, don't you think?"

"Gideon…"

"Yes, Doc. I have."

He sighed deeply, creasing his eyes with his hand:

"I don't know whether that's a good or bad thing, Gide."

"What do you mean?"

"The part of your brain that keeps your explicate memory was almost all but rip apart by the bullet. When I was operating of that part of brain trying to get the lead out of you I…"

"What, Doc?"

"I had to use an enhance stimpak to sterilize and heal your injuries so I could get the bullet out of you. Brain tissue isn't supposed to regrow, especially memory tissue…"

"But introduce a drug that quadruples your cell metabolism, and it does, doesn't it?"

He nodded.

"For that reason Gideon, your memory will slowly return in fragments. But the problem is that it's very unpredictable. I don't know what the long term effects this could have on you because… well, because…"

"Because I'm the only one who has actually survived the procedure, ain't I?"

Once again he nodded. Well that about explains a few things, but even the Doc had no idea what toll this would take…

"Hey you two!" Ringo shouted as he practically stormed through the door, "We've got trouble!"

Like that I was up on my feet, Colt in hand as I stormed through the door after Ringo, with Doc close behind. As we stormed down the hill, I then saw where we were going. The entrance to the Saloon was crowded with angry and blaster wielding townsfolk, pointing at a man wearing a blue jumpsuit with a Kevlar suit on. As I entered, the man locked eyes with Ringo and hissed out what sounded like 'knew it'.

"Cobb!" Ringo growled as he raised his handgun on the tall black man. Cobb reached into his holster but withdrew as the people around drew just a step closer. Piss them off, and he'd become a cadaver faster than you can say tombstone. He then turned to Trudy, who was leaning on the long bar:

"I knew you were lying, bitch! Know I've got over three dozen boys out there ready to rip this place apart, unless you hand that sonovabitch over to me now!"

"I'm right here you ass!" Ringo growled as he holstered his pistol and approached Cobb, his arms spread wide, "How 'bout we take this outside and finish what we started, Pendejo!"

Before the two could go to blows, I step between the two, the Colt pointing barely a few inches from Cobb's forehead. I locked eyes with him and growled:

"Alive or dead; your choice, Cobb. You try to take this place and we'll bury you here!"

Then I pulled the Browning with my left hand and I smacked its hilt into his face in a lightning fast whirl of metal. He went to his knees, his hands covering his bloodied face. I holstered the pistols, and then grabbed him by his lapels and I threw out the door and into the street. I stepped out, Browning in hand as Cobb rose to his feet.

"You've got 10 seconds to get out of town before I begin putting holes in you!"

"What?!"

I then fired a round at his feet, blowing up a cloud of smoke as he jumped into the air and started running down the road.

"Run, gallina! Run!" Ringo shouted as he fired a few rounds either side of Cobb. Like that he was spiriting down the road like a jackrabbit being chased by coyote. The crowd inside roared with laughter as Cobb went over the front wall and rolled out of site. Trudy then walked up to my side:

"Well?" she asked.

"He'll be here. Tomorrow at dawn from the North would be my guess." I answered, my eyes never leaving the horizon.

"We'll be ready then."


The day passed as quickly as it had come. It was quickly blurred with the movement of preparation, as the townsfolk were preparing their defenses with an air of discipline. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I could truly credit Trudy for organizing the town into a fine military force, as it was truly a rarity to see. Despite the fact I had lost most of my memory, the tactical side of my brain hadn't lost its touch, as the Doc had commented. I spent a good amount of the day examining and pointing out weak spots in the defense, shuffling people into the positions that suited their abilities, instructing them on the finer points of the time hold tactic, simply called "Wait-and-fire". Perhaps better put by Easy Pete, the old white bearded man:

"Wait till you see the whites of their eyes and then blow them all over our fine Goddamn dirt! A fine hail, till they're pieces! It'll save up on graves!"

Overall, we had 28 shooters, men and women, old and young, who we could use. The Convicts probably had us outnumbered by a 2-to-1 margin, but I knew deep inside myself that the better prepared always wins. We were going to position 20 of the shooters on the Northern wall, where the attack would come, and the rest in reserve at the back wall. Everyone else who was a noncombatant would be kept inside the old school house, well away from the main battle. Then, as the last of our preparations were being finalized, the sun drifted behind the horizon, painting the skies a bright pallet of reds and pinks.

I knew the omen though; the blood dusk. By tomorrow, blood would be spilled over the desert floor. However; only one army, whether Goodsprings or the Convicts, would win the day, and the victor would be chosen here. Finally, night crept over and shrouded the land in darkness. I felt no fatigue, no tiredness. For this night, there would be no rest, not for me…

The first rays of dawn were beginning to creep once more over the hill, and my eyes caught movement down the ridge, close to a mile down the road. I signaled the runner, and silently word was spread throughout the town. The shooters moved into position, keeping a low profile as to not expose us. I crawled to my barricade, just to the middle of the wall. I had switched the shotgun for an intensity scoped bolt action 5.56mm varmint rifle. As I lay in the sand, the shooters moved to position on either side of me, guns ready to rock and roll.

Ringo moved close to me, his Browning Hi-Power clenched in hand:

"Ready, Jefe?"

"Let them come close. Pass the word." I replied in a low whisper. Then that's when we all heard voices up the road. I peered through the wall, and I could see them moving in packs, 100 yards out. Then 80 yards out, then 50 yards a minute later.

"Steady." I whispered. 35 yards now, 10 to a pack, 15 feet apart. Not yet, not yet… 15 yards!

"I don't know about this Cobb. This seems like a trap."

"Now!" I roared as we rose to our feet, and like in an old prewar film, the well known thunder of guns firing one after the other at our targets sounded. The Convicts in the front never stood a chance, as the first squad was wiped out to the last in less than a few seconds.

"Let 'em have it!" Easy Pete bellowed as he dispatched a Convict ten feet away with an aged revolver. The exchange of fire had begun, and it was obvious we had the upper hand. The barricade was sturdy and it provided good cover as we began picking them off one by one. I had gone to the Colt and was reloading when I heard a sizzling sound. I look down and I saw the boom-stick at my feet.

"Son of a-!" I shouted as I grabbed the dynamite and I threw it into the air. It went about as far as one could jump and then it exploded. The blast knocked me over. My ears were ringing, my head was spinning and I could barely see. When I came to; Ringo was standing over me, firing away with his Browning.

Suddenly, a man in blue lunged and doubled him over, the two rolling in a pitted struggle. Although every fiber in my body screamed out in pain, I blocked out the voices and drew Parabellum from its sheath on my boot. I readied myself and then I lunged, crashing into the blue man and knocking him to the floor. Before he could move, I ended his life with a flash of silver. Then I looked up and there was another convict with a shotgun aimed right at my face.

Then he was dropped, his chest exploding with a shower of red. I looked over and saw my savior: Pete with smoking revolver.

"On your feet, greenhorn." Pete grumbled as he pulled me to my feet, "We've still got work to do."

And he was right. No sooner than he could finish his sentence, the convicts were coming again. These had decided to abandon the good sense of cover, instead going for the straight silver. I knew that they'd close the distance before we'd get a shot off.

"Get out of our town!" Pete shouted as he wielded his weapon pistol whip style, "Take them!"

"OOORAA!" the townsfolk shouted, drawing their own weapons and we climbed over the wall. Then the groups clashed and a bloody melee enveloped. I soon became lost in the chaos, punching and stabbing anything that uniformed of blue. One was coming at me with a knife. I ducked, slashing my blade under his arm and then ending him with a swift finish to the back. I withdrew, just into to block another coming at me.

I brought it to a finish, racking him with my knee and knocking him down with a single powerful punch. Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind. I threw my elbow back, hitting him in his ribs, and then I grabbed him and threw him over my shoulder. He was on the floor, so I ensured him a welcome stay by kicking him viciously in the groin; then I drew the Browning and finished him off. More were coming and seconds were spent with the expense of bullets as I shot them down executioner style. Then I heard a roar over the hill and I saw more of them coming.

I knew that we were not going to last much longer from this melee, and I prepared for a fight to the last. However, just as they crossed the hill, the familiar silhouette of the machine appeared. The convicts were caught unawares. One second they just stood dumbfounded, the next there was the roar of twin machineguns. They stood no chance as the twin autos ripped into them with the hail of fire like the roar of an angry god bestowing vengeance. They crumpled and then the familiar shape of Victor came over the horizon and rolled into the fight.

Victor unleashed fury into those who came, cutting them down like wheat before a scythe. That turned the tide of the fight. The climax of the melee came down to the conflict between Ringo and Cobb. They came at each other, Cobb drawing his handgun upon the younger man. Yet, speed was on Ringo's side; he quickly felled him with a blow to the face and kicked away the blaster.

Cobb quickly retaliated with his blow, knocking him back and drawing a long blade. He swung; Ringo blocked him and smashed his forehead into Cobb and knocking him back. Ringo drew his own knife and slashed at Cobb; who blocked and took the offensive. Though Cobb may have been stronger, he couldn't match the younger mans speed, who evaded his slashes and stabs with practiced ease. Cobb came downward in an arc; Ringo side stepped and slashed at his exposed leg and arm, to which the black man backed off.

Cobb came at him again, but Ringo came first, stepping forward and impaling the blade into his chest.

"Tell Death when you meet her; she can kiss my ass!" Ringo hissed through his teeth and withdrew the fell back slowly, amid the corpses of his comrades. Truly that was that left of the Convicts: a field of corpses for the carrion birds to feast upon. For a solemn second: no one spoke. Then I took up the cry:

"VICTORY!"

Then the cry was followed by the rest, who chanted in the phrase of victory. I looked about, and was surprised to see that only a few of us had fallen. Luck had truly been on our side. Then I saw the black smoke.

"Cielos nos salvan..." Ringo whisper in shock as we all stared at the rising black smoke floating into the air. Chaos ensued as the crowd ran to save their homes.

"Get water an' put out them fires! Hurry, damn it or we'll lose the town!" Easy Pete roared out throughout the crowd. When we reached the town it was chaos, the flurry of folks running everywhere, fire spreading over rooftops and the rampage of the towns spooked cattle breaking through their imprisonments and into the destruction. I ran with all hast of a madman, with Ringo close behind. I ran and dodge in and out of the screaming panic until I reached the South Wall. My fears were all but confirmed, the South Wall had been blown apart and there were multiple bodies about, remains of the garrison here.

"Maddox!" A voice called out, and I turned. A wounded Rodriguez brother waddled up to me, his arm was bloody and filthy, even through the cloth that held it to his chest. He clasped an arm on my shoulder and spoke in a shaky voice that was trying to desperately hold back the roaring tides of panic:

"Esos bastardos locos, por todos los cielos…!"

"What happened man?"

"Those bastardos came at us from nowhere! The barricade was gone in not but un momento… I was knocked out, they were setting fires. Pero Gideon, they took the Doc and Sunny!"

"Where!?"

"I know not, senior! But I suspect up the road where that …!

"Gideon!" A voice suddenly called from over my shoulder. I turned, and the world drifted into a muted silence as the world burned alight with a splendor horrifying to behold. The fire spread from place to place, woman and children screaming aloud as they fled in a great panic. The bighorners were tussling about, fleeing into a great stampede as their deep fear of the flames rose high in their hearts and in the skies. I could see Ringo screaming out at me, I could see him almost pleading with as he tried to shake me from my trance.

Then his face, the world about became blurred as times before roared through my scarred mind. Out rolling in grainy images, the flames were far and close about, the panic of screaming peoples running for their lives. The roar of battle and rout ringing in my ears, men in red and men in brown shooting and fighting each other in a pitted melee. Yet my mind focused on the thing approaching at a quickened pace, its form silhouetted in the shadows of the smoke. I squinted at it, suddenly conscious that I was peering through the visors of a face helmet.

Then out the smoke, its face appeared out the gray smoke like a specter rising from the shadows of night. My breath was held in my lungs as I stared at it in horror. It was gold in color, with the engraved like a god of war. It almost seemed to have hair, red flowing hair that sprouted from its top and cheeks. Then at those cheeks were rounded horns, like that of somekind of devil in flesh. However, the true horror came when one looked up and at the eyes, but yet could see only the dark hollows were they should have been.

Then the smoke cleared, and he step forth, clad in golden armor with the shroud of crimson wrapped about him. Then it spoke, in a deep and echoing voice of commanding terror:

"It shall be paid in blood."

Then time slowed once more and the world about became shrouded in mist then into darkness. The world around me felt like enclosing box, slowly trapping me within its invisible barriers. Then something with a tremendous force knocked me off my feet, as though something had pushed me aside. In that spleen spiking pain, my eyes shot open and like that I was back.

"Gidddeoonnnnn" A voice rang out, sounding so faint I could hear it and then the edges of my eyes went gray, the interior was turning to mist. Before another word could be said, my eyes shut and my mind went blank.


I did not know how long I had been out, but the first thing I felt was the burning pain in my ribs, and the seeming shroud of darkness about me. It was not the total darkness I had felt in my troubled psyche, but rather like the cold embrace of night. I looked about and I found myself on a bed, ironically in Doc Mitchell's house. Oh god, Doc! Sunny!

As I started to rise, pain shout through my entire body, and my entire upper chest felt cold to the bone. I forced myself to rise and I sat on the bed, finding myself shirtless with more bandages wrapped around my middle. I looked about and I saw my gear lying on a chair. I stood up, burning pain rippling through my body, but I forced myself to the chair and start to dress. As my coat wrapped around my shoulders, I realized how much colder it was, remember it was now fast approaching the middle of October.

I donned my hat, and shouldered my bag. I then crept silently out of the door and into the nightshade of the town. The first thing I noticed was that the fire damage hadn't been all that bad, the only real damage had been to the thatch, wood and tiled roofs, some which now had large burn holes in them. I whispered a prayer of thanks to the Lord above and I moved down into the town. There seemed to be not a soul about, as though it had been deserted.

As I passed the Saloon, I heard a voice whisper and I turned, Colt in hand:

"Where do you think you're going, desconocido?"

I activated my pip-boy light, and the perpetual green fade revealed a smirking Ringo. I sighed and replied in a light whisper:

"I think you know."

"The Prison?"

"Yeah. If the Convicts took Doc and Sunny, that's where they'll be."

"Well then let's get going."

"Ahh ahh." I said, stopping his movement with my arm, "You're not coming."

"And what will you do to stop us?" A deep guttural voice asked as Easy Pete stepped into the perpetual green fade, "Face it laddie, we're coming with you."

"'Sides, what you going to do with those empty guns, amigo? Throw them at the desperados?" Ringo asked with a deep chuckle followed by a widening grin. I looked down at the empty pistol in my hand. I felt embarrassed, as I hadn't even notice that the Colt hadn't any bullets. I looked up and caught a bag that Ringo had tossed me with my left hand and holstering the Colt with the other. I opened it and my heart gleamed with delight. Ringo grinned at me:

"Yep, got your favorites, .45 pistola colt automática we picked off those convicts you picked off, figure you deserved them."

There was something else, long and dark colored. I pulled it out, and in the gloom, I admired its excellence. It was a Ruger Ranch Rifle, chambered to fire 5.56x45mm with an 18.5-inch barrel. It was beautifully crafted, with dark brown furniture, and the word LOWLIGHT stenciled on the side in white, Army issue lettering. Bolted on the top was MagLite Night Scope with what I guessed 4.10x magnification. Pete then handed me a small bandolier of about six pouches, each filled with a pair of 5 rounder mags.

I looked up at the two vagabonds' I was about to take into battle, and I nodded my approval. Pete chuckled darkly, as he nodded in reply:

"Don't tell Chet we have it, he don't know that it's been missing fer a year from his 'impenetrable' locker."

He started chuckling to himself, almost bursting into full on laughter.

"Whoa, settle down old man! Don't want you waking up the town before we head on out."

That was when they both looked down in a depressing look. I looked above their heads, and realized were the town was; burying the dead.

"Alright, the Convicts who have Doc and Sunny will have retreated to the Prison. Someone mentioned that it's a good full day and a half from here. While the Convicts may have a head start, they'll be in a bigger group and they'll sleep nights." I then looked at both of them, my face set in a no-nonsense tone, "We won't. We'll intercept them before they reach the prison."

"What if they reach it first, amigo?" Ringo asked.

"Then we'll get them out anyway or die trying anyway." Pete answered, "Still take some of the bastards down to hell with us."

"Alright then," I said shouldering the rifle and bag of ammo, and turning towards the road, "We travel light and fast. Let's hunt some convicts."


Translation

Cielos nos salvan...

Heavens save us...

Esos bastardos locos, por todos los cielos…!

The crazy bastards, for God's sake...!

Desconocido?

Stranger?