My Latest Story - Part Three
1688 words. Marten's an action hero...
The Thrushwood Mines were nestled deep inside a box canyon, the mouth of which opened up into a small mining town. It had been in operation for a good fifteen years when I came to it. I would later learn that it was a silver mine. As we crested that hill that led down into the town, we were already seeing the thick smoke. Not smoke from the mining operations, no. The town was on fire, a blazing inferno. We were far too late.
Marshal Durgin and I rode down into the town. The marshal kept his thoughts guarded, his face a practiced mask that showed no emotion. He slid off his horse with ease, my own dismount a stumbling mockery. He moved forward, a rifle slipping from his saddle into his hands. I was the first to spot a body, and we headed there quickly. It was Goodwin, one of the deputies. He was still alive.
“Talk to me, son,” Durgin was saying. “What happened here?”
“The… The thing we was following’, marshal. It had… Had fire comin’ right outta its hands. Big ol’ streams of it. Weren’t like any I’d seen before, neither.”
“You badly wounded?”
“I’ll be fine, marshal. Fine. Doc Emmett’ll get me fixed up right as rain.” Goodwin lifted up his bloodied shirt, revealing a grazing bullet wound. Not enough to take a man out of this world, but enough to take him out of the fight. “Ricochet. I got him, marshal, I did, but everythin’ just comes right back. Darndest thing… Comes straight back at the shooter.”
I gave a nod. “Magnetic shielding. Regular bullets can’t touch him.”
“Makes things a might be difficult, then.” The marshal laid a hand on Goodwin’s shoulder. “Rest easy if you must, but if you can move, see what survivors you can get to safety. Which way did the stranger go?”
Goodwin pointed into the canyon. “Into the mines.”
Marshal Durgin rose and immediately started toward the canyon mouth. I followed at his side. “Sounds like your deputy’s been following my bounty for a bit longer than just heading here.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How long have you known about him?”
The marshal paused his steps to give me a brief look. “Honest, Mr. Daltrey? We’ve been tracking him since before we found you. Hard not to notice a man whose eyes glow, whose skin reflects the sun, and who can fly through the sky. Not exactly common around these parts.”
“Pretty common where I’m from.” I picked back up our hurried stride toward the mine. “So, why lead me on back at the jail? Why not just come out and say you knew?”
“Needed to hear it from you. If I had to do a little prodding, fine, but I’d rather you tell me the truth yourself, here what you have to say on your own terms.”
I wanted to call him on wasting our time, and these people’s lives, but I knew I was no better with having kept it a secret in the first place, even if the truth was beyond most people’s belief here. I kept my mouth shut and we descended into the dimly lit mining tunnel in mutual silence. It was a bleak, dry place, a squared out throat that descended deep into the earth, braced with wooden supports. Crates of supplies broke the monotony of endless rock wall. The deeper we went, the worse the electric lighting got. Power flickered on and off, giving brief moments every several minutes that resembled strobe lighting. Tracks led past our feet for the use of mine carts.
A scream echoed up the tunnel from around a bend and we were instantly on the run, hurrying down the passage and turning the corner to watch as a miner struck the wall with excessive force. Stone crumbled around him and he never rose again. Cyran himself stood further down the tunnel. He turned at our approach and I saw the damage that had been done. Exposed wiring protruded where panels had gone missing. One of his eyes had gone dark and his motions had become stiff.
“Daltrey,” he said, his voice coming out in a burst of static. “You bastard, you son of a bitch! Look at what you’ve done to me.”
“You did it to yourself, Thaddock,” I called back.
His response came as he lifted his arms. Beams of energy shot out, melting into the rock wall behind us as I dragged the marshal to the ground. His own immediate reaction was to fire off a shot with his rifle, which only served to send it right back at us. It fired into the ground at our side, a narrow miss. “Remember what Goodwin said, marshal! Bullets can’t touch him!” And then I was on my feet, rushing ahead as Cyran fled around another bend and out of sight. I skidded as I came around it, still getting used to the boots I now wore. I rushed ahead, leaving the marshal behind as I chased my foe through the silver mine.
I found him at a dead end. The shaft ended here, walls still glittering with bits of silver ore. Cyran spun to face me and raised one arm. “Don’t think that you’ve trapped me here, Daltrey.”
The flash of energy started from his hand. I drew and fired, not at him but at the ground. In an instant the ground before me tore upward, an earthen shield that soaked in the stream of energy. It was then that the marshal caught up, ducking behind my manifested wall. “This is your show, Mr. Daltrey! What do we do from here?”
I peaked around the corner, gauging the area Cyran had cornered himself into. Rock walls. Crates. Not much to go on. I ducked back behind cover just in time to avoid a narrow burst of energy. “What are those crates back there? The ones marked with red Xs?”
“Dynamite, for blasting out the mine. Why?”
“Perfect! Keep your head down, I’m going to shoot one.”
The marshal only shook his head. “Pointless, son! I’ve had outlaws try that same trick on me. Doesn’t do a thing but wedge a bullet in there. You’ll just be wasting ammunition.”
“Just trust me, marshal. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves.”
Durgin shrugged but did as I asked, ducking deeper under cover of the rock wall. As soon as he was down and leaned out, took quick aim, and fired. A circle of fire spread down across my arm, flowed into the gun, and launched out as a fireball. The explosion that followed was deafening, the blast of it knocking us both flat as rock and silver debris rocketed through the tunnel. I heard Cyran give a shout of surprise, and then the clash of metal against stone. I was around my shield immediately, firing two blind electric shots through the thick dust cloud. As the dust settled I found myself staring at massive pile of rubble. I approached it slowly, revolver ready with its last pair of bullets. As I nudged at the rubble with my boot I became aware of how much brighter it was in the mine. I looked up and saw the blue sky looking back at me through a hole above. A hole just wide enough for Cyran Thaddock to fit through. I cursed, kicked the fallen rocks, and started back out of the mine.
Marhal Durgin was right on my heels, asking the question that had always been so prevalent during the early days of superheroes. Not so common in my time, though. There were just too many of us for people to really wonder any more. “How did you do that?” He asked. “The fire, I mean. It… Your whole arm was on fire and then…”
“Aww, marshal, you were so cool and collected before. Rampaging robot doesn’t phase you, but show off some super powers and you’re all sorts of unnerved.”
“It’s witchcraft. Witchcraft, isn’t it?”
“No, marshal. Not witchcraft. I’ll explain later. For now, we need to get back to the surface and find out which way Thaddock’s gone. The condition he was in, I don’t think he’ll be able to make it very far.”
He nodded his agreement, but I noticed how he fell back a few steps from me. Wasn’t something I’d thought of. This was an era when super powers would be a sign of evil. I breathed deep when we hit the surface, taking in the fresher air (the diminishing smoke still left me needing better). Soon I was on my horse, riding out where I could catch a clearer view of the sky. I scanned the sky in every direction, instinctively searching for the vapor trails that typically followed Cyran’s flight path. He was moving too slow, though, so it took a moment before I saw him, a shining speck in the distance. I spurred my horse on and with Marshal Durgin following behind, I gave chase.
We raced across that desert landscape, a wilderness I’d only truly experienced on the silver screen. I hadn’t been expecting it, but our horses were moving far swifter than our prey, and we had soon caught up with him. I motioned for Durgin to hand me his rifle and, reluctantly, he did so. I took carefully aim, sent a surge of electricity into the shot, and fired. A near miss, but the electrical charge was enough to disorient Cyran. He fell, caught himself, and turned. Both arms came up and a blast of energy larger than anything else he had produced this day came down toward us.
“Move, marshal!” I yelled even as I urged my own horse off to the side. The blast hit the ground between us with enough force to throw me from my mount. I toppled through the air, struck earth, and rolled. I don’t know how far the explosion had thrown me. I don’t know when I managed to stop. When my head struck rock all I knew was immediate and total darkness, and that the pain just no longer mattered.
The Thrushwood Mines were nestled deep inside a box canyon, the mouth of which opened up into a small mining town. It had been in operation for a good fifteen years when I came to it. I would later learn that it was a silver mine. As we crested that hill that led down into the town, we were already seeing the thick smoke. Not smoke from the mining operations, no. The town was on fire, a blazing inferno. We were far too late.
Marshal Durgin and I rode down into the town. The marshal kept his thoughts guarded, his face a practiced mask that showed no emotion. He slid off his horse with ease, my own dismount a stumbling mockery. He moved forward, a rifle slipping from his saddle into his hands. I was the first to spot a body, and we headed there quickly. It was Goodwin, one of the deputies. He was still alive.
“Talk to me, son,” Durgin was saying. “What happened here?”
“The… The thing we was following’, marshal. It had… Had fire comin’ right outta its hands. Big ol’ streams of it. Weren’t like any I’d seen before, neither.”
“You badly wounded?”
“I’ll be fine, marshal. Fine. Doc Emmett’ll get me fixed up right as rain.” Goodwin lifted up his bloodied shirt, revealing a grazing bullet wound. Not enough to take a man out of this world, but enough to take him out of the fight. “Ricochet. I got him, marshal, I did, but everythin’ just comes right back. Darndest thing… Comes straight back at the shooter.”
I gave a nod. “Magnetic shielding. Regular bullets can’t touch him.”
“Makes things a might be difficult, then.” The marshal laid a hand on Goodwin’s shoulder. “Rest easy if you must, but if you can move, see what survivors you can get to safety. Which way did the stranger go?”
Goodwin pointed into the canyon. “Into the mines.”
Marshal Durgin rose and immediately started toward the canyon mouth. I followed at his side. “Sounds like your deputy’s been following my bounty for a bit longer than just heading here.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How long have you known about him?”
The marshal paused his steps to give me a brief look. “Honest, Mr. Daltrey? We’ve been tracking him since before we found you. Hard not to notice a man whose eyes glow, whose skin reflects the sun, and who can fly through the sky. Not exactly common around these parts.”
“Pretty common where I’m from.” I picked back up our hurried stride toward the mine. “So, why lead me on back at the jail? Why not just come out and say you knew?”
“Needed to hear it from you. If I had to do a little prodding, fine, but I’d rather you tell me the truth yourself, here what you have to say on your own terms.”
I wanted to call him on wasting our time, and these people’s lives, but I knew I was no better with having kept it a secret in the first place, even if the truth was beyond most people’s belief here. I kept my mouth shut and we descended into the dimly lit mining tunnel in mutual silence. It was a bleak, dry place, a squared out throat that descended deep into the earth, braced with wooden supports. Crates of supplies broke the monotony of endless rock wall. The deeper we went, the worse the electric lighting got. Power flickered on and off, giving brief moments every several minutes that resembled strobe lighting. Tracks led past our feet for the use of mine carts.
A scream echoed up the tunnel from around a bend and we were instantly on the run, hurrying down the passage and turning the corner to watch as a miner struck the wall with excessive force. Stone crumbled around him and he never rose again. Cyran himself stood further down the tunnel. He turned at our approach and I saw the damage that had been done. Exposed wiring protruded where panels had gone missing. One of his eyes had gone dark and his motions had become stiff.
“Daltrey,” he said, his voice coming out in a burst of static. “You bastard, you son of a bitch! Look at what you’ve done to me.”
“You did it to yourself, Thaddock,” I called back.
His response came as he lifted his arms. Beams of energy shot out, melting into the rock wall behind us as I dragged the marshal to the ground. His own immediate reaction was to fire off a shot with his rifle, which only served to send it right back at us. It fired into the ground at our side, a narrow miss. “Remember what Goodwin said, marshal! Bullets can’t touch him!” And then I was on my feet, rushing ahead as Cyran fled around another bend and out of sight. I skidded as I came around it, still getting used to the boots I now wore. I rushed ahead, leaving the marshal behind as I chased my foe through the silver mine.
I found him at a dead end. The shaft ended here, walls still glittering with bits of silver ore. Cyran spun to face me and raised one arm. “Don’t think that you’ve trapped me here, Daltrey.”
The flash of energy started from his hand. I drew and fired, not at him but at the ground. In an instant the ground before me tore upward, an earthen shield that soaked in the stream of energy. It was then that the marshal caught up, ducking behind my manifested wall. “This is your show, Mr. Daltrey! What do we do from here?”
I peaked around the corner, gauging the area Cyran had cornered himself into. Rock walls. Crates. Not much to go on. I ducked back behind cover just in time to avoid a narrow burst of energy. “What are those crates back there? The ones marked with red Xs?”
“Dynamite, for blasting out the mine. Why?”
“Perfect! Keep your head down, I’m going to shoot one.”
The marshal only shook his head. “Pointless, son! I’ve had outlaws try that same trick on me. Doesn’t do a thing but wedge a bullet in there. You’ll just be wasting ammunition.”
“Just trust me, marshal. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves.”
Durgin shrugged but did as I asked, ducking deeper under cover of the rock wall. As soon as he was down and leaned out, took quick aim, and fired. A circle of fire spread down across my arm, flowed into the gun, and launched out as a fireball. The explosion that followed was deafening, the blast of it knocking us both flat as rock and silver debris rocketed through the tunnel. I heard Cyran give a shout of surprise, and then the clash of metal against stone. I was around my shield immediately, firing two blind electric shots through the thick dust cloud. As the dust settled I found myself staring at massive pile of rubble. I approached it slowly, revolver ready with its last pair of bullets. As I nudged at the rubble with my boot I became aware of how much brighter it was in the mine. I looked up and saw the blue sky looking back at me through a hole above. A hole just wide enough for Cyran Thaddock to fit through. I cursed, kicked the fallen rocks, and started back out of the mine.
Marhal Durgin was right on my heels, asking the question that had always been so prevalent during the early days of superheroes. Not so common in my time, though. There were just too many of us for people to really wonder any more. “How did you do that?” He asked. “The fire, I mean. It… Your whole arm was on fire and then…”
“Aww, marshal, you were so cool and collected before. Rampaging robot doesn’t phase you, but show off some super powers and you’re all sorts of unnerved.”
“It’s witchcraft. Witchcraft, isn’t it?”
“No, marshal. Not witchcraft. I’ll explain later. For now, we need to get back to the surface and find out which way Thaddock’s gone. The condition he was in, I don’t think he’ll be able to make it very far.”
He nodded his agreement, but I noticed how he fell back a few steps from me. Wasn’t something I’d thought of. This was an era when super powers would be a sign of evil. I breathed deep when we hit the surface, taking in the fresher air (the diminishing smoke still left me needing better). Soon I was on my horse, riding out where I could catch a clearer view of the sky. I scanned the sky in every direction, instinctively searching for the vapor trails that typically followed Cyran’s flight path. He was moving too slow, though, so it took a moment before I saw him, a shining speck in the distance. I spurred my horse on and with Marshal Durgin following behind, I gave chase.
We raced across that desert landscape, a wilderness I’d only truly experienced on the silver screen. I hadn’t been expecting it, but our horses were moving far swifter than our prey, and we had soon caught up with him. I motioned for Durgin to hand me his rifle and, reluctantly, he did so. I took carefully aim, sent a surge of electricity into the shot, and fired. A near miss, but the electrical charge was enough to disorient Cyran. He fell, caught himself, and turned. Both arms came up and a blast of energy larger than anything else he had produced this day came down toward us.
“Move, marshal!” I yelled even as I urged my own horse off to the side. The blast hit the ground between us with enough force to throw me from my mount. I toppled through the air, struck earth, and rolled. I don’t know how far the explosion had thrown me. I don’t know when I managed to stop. When my head struck rock all I knew was immediate and total darkness, and that the pain just no longer mattered.