My Latest Story - Part Two
Part two! 1274 words.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been locked away behind bars, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Cells I’ve been in before, though, are built for the design of caging superheroes, though. This was… Well the bars were just your basic iron, and the walls were splintered wood. The wood planks beneath my feet were dusted with a scattering of straw to help soak in the bodily purging of previous ‘guests’. On the other side of the bars there paced a man dressed in fine western wear, topped with a woolen wide-brimmed hat. The marshal’s badge on his chest shone with polish. He turned to me, brushing his fingers through his short-clipped gray beard.
“I’ve half a mind to send you up-state, son,” he said. “Take you to where they at least try to take care of those who’ve lost their own minds.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“You dress like a damned fool, were out wandering miles from any town without a horse, and you sit there with secrets you won’t tell me. What was that light, son? What were you up to at the caves?”
It had already been almost a full day, now. Sitting in here, while either the marshal or one of his deputies grilled me with the same questions again and again. How could I tell them the truth? That a robot from at least a good hundred years in their future had taken me back in time? They already thought I was crazy: to them I dressed funny, talked funny, generally acted funny. If I told them what had actually happened, I would definitely be dragged off to the funny farm. So I gave them the only story I could think up. The clothes were a new style from the eastern states. I was driving a wagon, coming across the valley, when I was robbed, wagon stolen. I’d been knocked out and when I woke up, his deputy had me at gunpoint. I’d thought it a good story until they questioned why I’d been driving the wagon, why I’d been in the area at all, and couldn’t give them a reason. They usually pushed a bit further there, asking what my secret was, and then left it alone while they went about other business. This time, however…
“We found this, back where we found you.” Marshal Durgin held up a piece of metal, shiny and silvery blue. I recognized it immediately as part of Cyran’s shell. Looked like a piece of his leg plating. “Strange bit of metal, not any sort I’ve ever seen before.” Well, no, it wouldn’t be. It was a high grade titanium alloy of Cyran Thaddock’s own design. “Why don’t you tell me what this is? Maybe I’ll believe your answer. Maybe I’ll let you go.” Yeah, right.
“Your guess is as good as mine, marshal. Pretty, though.”
“Pretty, sure. Shines real nice. Almost as big as my gun, but doesn’t weigh nearly as much. What is it, son? I don’t want to see you rot in my jail.”
I was really starting to believe they would never let me out of here without some sort of story. They already thought I was crazy… It was about time to really give them something that would make them think me completely mad. “You want to know who I am, alright. I’ll tell you. Let’s get it over with.”
“I’m listening.”
“My name is Marten Daltrey. I’m from at least one hundred years in your future. I’m a lawman like you, in a sense. I was tracking down a criminal, a man in a mechanical body. That’s part of his shin plating you’re holding now. This man, Cyran Thaddock, had built a device that could send a person through time. I was sent to stop him, but everything went wrong. That blue light you saw? That was us, coming into your time.”
Silence. A long, terrible silence. The marshal’s eyes stared into my own, unblinking, unwavering. At last he said, “And where is this metal man now?”
“I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, he was already long gone. Thaddock is extremely dangerous, marshal. I ruined his plans… I don‘t know what he might do in his attempt to get back to our own time.”
Further silence, then the marshal drew out a key and opened my cell. I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “Come out, Mr. Daltrey. Look in your eyes tells me you’re not lying this time, hard as it is to believe. We’ve heard tell of a strange man out near Thrushwood, might be your man. You say he’s dangerous, and if that’s so, it’s my duty to keep him from doing any harm. Least until he’s out of my jurisdiction. If that means I need your help, then so be it. Don’t think I won’t have my eye on you, though, Mr. Daltrey. You will be watched at all times.”
“My thanks, marshal. I understand.”
“Alright, then. Now let’s get you over to the tailor, see if we can’t find you some real clothes.”
-------------
Marshal Durgin picked out clothes for me. They fit well, and looked good. I felt like I had become a part of an old Clint Eastwood flick. I propped a hat on my head, rough leather, and took a look at myself in the shop’s cracked mirror. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. As I stepped back out of the shop to meet with the marshal, the man turned to me with a dread look in his eyes.
“Got word on your metal man. Some bad news out at the Thrushwood Mines. I sent Goodwin and Charleston on ahead.”
“If they open fire on Cyran, don’t expect to be finding them breathing when we get there.”
“Then we’d better get moving.” He started back toward the jail, kicking dust with every step. I was still getting used to my surroundings as I followed him. We were in a small town, a main street lined with shops, small homes scattered about behind them. An archway near the local train station read off the town’s name as Bautista. We passed the saloon, the sound of an old piano filtering out through the open doorway, and it gave me a strong desire for a drink. The heat was already getting to me. We reached the jail where two horses had been tied. The marshal patted a dark brown horse with one hand and turned back to me. “Hope you can ride, future boy. If those new automobiles I’ve heard about in the cities amount to anything, I’m guessing you won’t have much use for horses in your time.
I’d had some experience, sure, but like he said, we don’t have much use for them. Not in Dankor City, certainly. I told him as much.
“Well, you’ll get used to it. Won’t be expecting you to go winning any races, but as long as you can keep up and stay in the saddle, you should be fine. Now, one last piece of business.” He entered into the gloom of his jail and stepped back out a moment later. He tossed me a thick leather belt with a holster, bullets gleaming all around. “Strap that on, Mr. Daltrey. I hope you can handle a gun better than you say you can handle a horse.”
I took the revolver he handed me, turning it over in my hands as I looked at it. A nice piece, kept well cleaned and oiled. I slid it into the holster on my hip and beamed a grin at the marshal. “I think I can manage.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d been locked away behind bars, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Cells I’ve been in before, though, are built for the design of caging superheroes, though. This was… Well the bars were just your basic iron, and the walls were splintered wood. The wood planks beneath my feet were dusted with a scattering of straw to help soak in the bodily purging of previous ‘guests’. On the other side of the bars there paced a man dressed in fine western wear, topped with a woolen wide-brimmed hat. The marshal’s badge on his chest shone with polish. He turned to me, brushing his fingers through his short-clipped gray beard.
“I’ve half a mind to send you up-state, son,” he said. “Take you to where they at least try to take care of those who’ve lost their own minds.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“You dress like a damned fool, were out wandering miles from any town without a horse, and you sit there with secrets you won’t tell me. What was that light, son? What were you up to at the caves?”
It had already been almost a full day, now. Sitting in here, while either the marshal or one of his deputies grilled me with the same questions again and again. How could I tell them the truth? That a robot from at least a good hundred years in their future had taken me back in time? They already thought I was crazy: to them I dressed funny, talked funny, generally acted funny. If I told them what had actually happened, I would definitely be dragged off to the funny farm. So I gave them the only story I could think up. The clothes were a new style from the eastern states. I was driving a wagon, coming across the valley, when I was robbed, wagon stolen. I’d been knocked out and when I woke up, his deputy had me at gunpoint. I’d thought it a good story until they questioned why I’d been driving the wagon, why I’d been in the area at all, and couldn’t give them a reason. They usually pushed a bit further there, asking what my secret was, and then left it alone while they went about other business. This time, however…
“We found this, back where we found you.” Marshal Durgin held up a piece of metal, shiny and silvery blue. I recognized it immediately as part of Cyran’s shell. Looked like a piece of his leg plating. “Strange bit of metal, not any sort I’ve ever seen before.” Well, no, it wouldn’t be. It was a high grade titanium alloy of Cyran Thaddock’s own design. “Why don’t you tell me what this is? Maybe I’ll believe your answer. Maybe I’ll let you go.” Yeah, right.
“Your guess is as good as mine, marshal. Pretty, though.”
“Pretty, sure. Shines real nice. Almost as big as my gun, but doesn’t weigh nearly as much. What is it, son? I don’t want to see you rot in my jail.”
I was really starting to believe they would never let me out of here without some sort of story. They already thought I was crazy… It was about time to really give them something that would make them think me completely mad. “You want to know who I am, alright. I’ll tell you. Let’s get it over with.”
“I’m listening.”
“My name is Marten Daltrey. I’m from at least one hundred years in your future. I’m a lawman like you, in a sense. I was tracking down a criminal, a man in a mechanical body. That’s part of his shin plating you’re holding now. This man, Cyran Thaddock, had built a device that could send a person through time. I was sent to stop him, but everything went wrong. That blue light you saw? That was us, coming into your time.”
Silence. A long, terrible silence. The marshal’s eyes stared into my own, unblinking, unwavering. At last he said, “And where is this metal man now?”
“I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, he was already long gone. Thaddock is extremely dangerous, marshal. I ruined his plans… I don‘t know what he might do in his attempt to get back to our own time.”
Further silence, then the marshal drew out a key and opened my cell. I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “Come out, Mr. Daltrey. Look in your eyes tells me you’re not lying this time, hard as it is to believe. We’ve heard tell of a strange man out near Thrushwood, might be your man. You say he’s dangerous, and if that’s so, it’s my duty to keep him from doing any harm. Least until he’s out of my jurisdiction. If that means I need your help, then so be it. Don’t think I won’t have my eye on you, though, Mr. Daltrey. You will be watched at all times.”
“My thanks, marshal. I understand.”
“Alright, then. Now let’s get you over to the tailor, see if we can’t find you some real clothes.”
-------------
Marshal Durgin picked out clothes for me. They fit well, and looked good. I felt like I had become a part of an old Clint Eastwood flick. I propped a hat on my head, rough leather, and took a look at myself in the shop’s cracked mirror. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. As I stepped back out of the shop to meet with the marshal, the man turned to me with a dread look in his eyes.
“Got word on your metal man. Some bad news out at the Thrushwood Mines. I sent Goodwin and Charleston on ahead.”
“If they open fire on Cyran, don’t expect to be finding them breathing when we get there.”
“Then we’d better get moving.” He started back toward the jail, kicking dust with every step. I was still getting used to my surroundings as I followed him. We were in a small town, a main street lined with shops, small homes scattered about behind them. An archway near the local train station read off the town’s name as Bautista. We passed the saloon, the sound of an old piano filtering out through the open doorway, and it gave me a strong desire for a drink. The heat was already getting to me. We reached the jail where two horses had been tied. The marshal patted a dark brown horse with one hand and turned back to me. “Hope you can ride, future boy. If those new automobiles I’ve heard about in the cities amount to anything, I’m guessing you won’t have much use for horses in your time.
I’d had some experience, sure, but like he said, we don’t have much use for them. Not in Dankor City, certainly. I told him as much.
“Well, you’ll get used to it. Won’t be expecting you to go winning any races, but as long as you can keep up and stay in the saddle, you should be fine. Now, one last piece of business.” He entered into the gloom of his jail and stepped back out a moment later. He tossed me a thick leather belt with a holster, bullets gleaming all around. “Strap that on, Mr. Daltrey. I hope you can handle a gun better than you say you can handle a horse.”
I took the revolver he handed me, turning it over in my hands as I looked at it. A nice piece, kept well cleaned and oiled. I slid it into the holster on my hip and beamed a grin at the marshal. “I think I can manage.”