Mindy McGinnis - Not a Drop to Drink

Her father’s reaction was immediate. He yelled at the hall guard, who spun on his heel. Stebbs and Lynn fired at the same time, her crosshairs trained on Father. He fell, clutching a shattered shoulder. His hand dangled lifeless from the dead arm, his gun useless on the ground. The hall guard dropped to his knees and fired at Eli before Stebbs’ bullet could reach him. The guard’s brain exploded through the back of his head, but not before his bullet hit Eli’s backpack.

Eli became a living ball of fire.

Lynn screamed from her perch, watching helplessly as the arms that had held her only hours ago pinwheeled in agony. Drops of liquid fire flew from his fingertips and sputtered out on the road. She knew exactly how many bullets she had and could afford to waste none. One shot could deliver him from his own gasoline-soaked skin.

The bullet seemed to fly slowly, protracting every second of his agony. Lynn kept her eye to the scope, unable to look away from the path of the only bullet she had ever fired with love in her heart.

Lynn dropped to the ground and rushed downhill toward town. The smell of smoke was strong in the air. Black plumes rose above the hall roof. Stebbs was firing, but she had no view and didn’t know if his shots were finding their targets. She flew downhill, arms spread wide to keep her balance as she ran.

Roger was running uphill to meet her, rage contorting his face. She ran directly at him, her own fury disregarding the gun he held as she launched herself directly at him. Their bodies collided, and the stale reek of male sweat folded over her as they rolled downhill together, hands grabbing for purchase on each other’s bodies. She gained her feet first, but he took her knees out from behind with his rifle stock. Lynn landed on her belly, the breath knocked out of her. He straddled her back and her lungs flattened farther as he pulled her head back by her hair.

“What’cha think you’re doing, girl? Playing war games?”

He drove her face downward into the dirt and she struggled against him. She tried to breathe, but inhaled only dirt. He pulled her face back up, taunting her.

“Men got two guns, you know. One for now,” he tapped the barrel of his gun against her nose. “And one for later.” When his free hand went to his zipper, she twisted underneath him, bringing her knee into his groin and pulling her knife from her boot.

“Mother taught me to carry a knife for always.”

She left him holding his intestines in disbelief as she disappeared down the hill, his gun tucked securely in her waistband.

She slid to a stop in a clearing and dropped onto her belly to scan the village. Blue Coat disappeared inside the yellow house, emerging at a downstairs window with his rifle. He was pulled down in a flurry of white hands and kitchen knives. Green Hat was the only man attempting to stop the fire, but he was armed with a single bucket and losing the fight. Black Beard was running to the east, whether to escape or find Stebbs she didn’t know. One bullet dropped him; her second shot finished the job. Her father had staggered into a blue house in the middle of town. Lynn saw a bloody hand draw curtains on the first floor, but it was the only flicker of movement. Green Hat had given up, his bucket sat at his feet while he watched the hall go up in flames.

Lynn scanned the trees, spotted Stebbs awkwardly making his way down from his post to the east. She fired a warning shot at Green Hat’s bucket, sending it ten feet in the air. He backed away, his hands up. Lynn emerged from the brush at the foot of the hill, her rifle trained on him.

“I got no issue with you,” he said, voice shaking. “Though I know you got reason to have one with me.”

Lynn wandered onto the road, uneasily scanning the houses on either side of her. She spat some dirt from her mouth, ignoring the trickle of blood running down her neck from a gash that Roger had given her as they fell. Green Hat eyed her uneasily, raised hands shaking.

“You armed?” Lynn asked.

“No.” He spread his jacket to show her. “Never much liked the feel of a gun.”

She relaxed her grip on the rifle as Stebbs came into town from behind the church, his own gun trained on Green Hat. “He all right?”

“Don’t think he’ll be a problem,” she answered, and Stebbs lowered his gun.

“Jasper’s in the little house there,” Green Hat said, gesturing toward the blue house Father had gone into. “You winged him good, but he was moving okay last I saw. He lost his gun when you shot him, but that don’t mean he’s not dangerous as hell. There’s still a truck out, too,” he went on. “Four men, though I doubt they’re the type to come back if there’s trouble.”

“We know,” Lynn said stiffly, handing her rifle to Stebbs. “There’s a man up the ridge that might call a bullet a favor.”

Stebbs glanced at her bloody face. “I s’pose I don’t feel much like granting favors today.”

Lynn nodded and backed away from him, forcing herself not to look at the smoldering black heap that had been Eli. The door of the yellow house opened and the youngest girl stepped out, the edges of a blanket clutched in her bloody hands.

“Emma!” Green Hat yelled, Stebbs and Lynn having vanished from his mind as he ran toward her. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and leaned against him. The other two women appeared in the doorway, glancing warily at Stebbs and Lynn.

“What are you going to do?” Stebbs asked Lynn.

She checked her handgun before answering, handing Stebbs the extra she had taken from Roger. “I’m going to go have a talk with my father.”

“Careful.”

“I will be.”

“I’m sorry as hell about Eli,” Stebbs said, not meeting her eyes. “I got that shot off as soon as I could.”

“It is what it is. I got other worries right now,” she said as she walked away from him, her hammering heart screaming at the lie in her words.

“Careful there, lady,” one of the women yelled at her. “He’s a mean bastard, that one is. And tricksy.” She touched a darkening bruise on her face as she spoke.

Lynn tightened her grip on the gun as she opened the front door.

Bloody footprints led her to the kitchen where her father sat at the table, slumped and pale. His right hand cupped the remains of his left shoulder; bone fragments jutted out between his fingers. He summoned the energy to look up at her as she walked in, but his head dropped back to his chest immediately. A slow smile spread across his face.

“The boys told me you was a pretty girl,” he said with his eyes closed.

She approached the table cautiously, her finger curled around the trigger and ready to fire. “You know who I am?”

His eyes cracked open and he gave her a long, assessing stare before they closed again. “Have to be blind not to. You look just like her. Don’t think there’s a bit of me in you.”

Even bleeding and maimed, he was an imposing man. The bulk of his body spoke of capability, the shine of his eyes held unvented malice. “There may be a bit yet,” Lynn said as she circled around behind him, checking for weapons.

“I don’t have a gun,” he said. “Funny thing about your shoulder exploding, it makes you drop whatever you’re holding. You ever been shot?”

“Not yet.”

“You may as well have a seat and relax,” he said calmly, closing his eyes again. “Not like I’m gonna harm my own flesh and blood.”

“’Cause you can’t or ’cause you wouldn’t?” Lynn asked, lowering herself into the seat opposite him, her gun still trained on his chest.

“It really matter? Either way, you can rest a spell.”

“If that’s your answer, I believe I’ll stay out of your reach for now and keep my gun out, if it’s all the same to you.”