David Robbins - Twin Cities Run

“You’re nuts!” the second woman, dressed in baggy brown pants and a yellow shirt, exclaimed. “I’d never get away with it.”

“Sure you could.” The brunette grabbed her friend by the arm and the pair stopped. “You just tell his buddies you found him dead. I’ll back you and be your alibi.”

“I don’t know,” the other woman said uncertainly.

“It’s the only way you’ll get rid of him.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you want me anymore?” the brunette asked.

The second woman kissed the first on the lips. “Of course I do!”

“Then you’ll do as I say,” the brunette directed.

Her companion nodded and they continued along the hall. Neither of them had glanced into the shaft.

Hickok looked at Bear, who shrugged and led the way up the cables.

They slowed as they neared the third floor, cautious, anxious to avoid committing the blunder they’d pulled on the second floor.

“I’ve never seen any person eat as much as him!” a male voice wafted down the elevator shaft.

“Quiet! Do you want him to hear you?” asked a woman.

“He can’t hear me.”

“He has ears everywhere!” the scared woman stated.

“This is our fourth trip to the food pots!” protested the man.

“At least we’re alive to make the trip,” the woman snapped testily.

The sounds of conversation faded.

Hickok inched up the rope until his eyes were above floor level. He leaned out and glanced both ways. “The hall is empty,” he whispered to Bear.

“You still sure you want to go through with this?” Bear queried.

“How many times must I tell you?” Hickok replied. “It’s time the Porns had a new leader.”

“I hope you know what you’re doin’.”

“So do I.”

“You sure can give a man confidence,” Bear sarcastically quipped.

Hickok scaled the cable until his feet were above the hall level. He swung his legs forward and back, twice, and on the second swing he vaulted into the corridor, landing crouched, already drawing the C.O.P., scanning for any sign of Porns.

A moment later Bear joined him. He pulled the Winchester from his belt and checked to see if a round was in the chamber. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” he told Hickok. “Which ain’t sayin’ much.”

The hallway was carpeted and both walls were covered with wood paneling, some of the panels broken or cracked or missing altogether.

Torches hung in special brackets on the walls.

“Which room is Maggot in?” Hickok inquired.

Bear waved him to their right, to a closed door ten feet away.

“This is it,” Bear remarked. “The eating room.”

Hickok gently twisted the knob and quietly opened the door a foot. He peered around the jamb.

The meal was still in full swing. A table large enough for a dozen diners was in the center of the lavishly decorated chamber. Maggot, like a plump, ponderous hyena presiding over a flock of vultures, sat at the far end of the table on a chair higher than any other. His cheeks and jowls were coated with food and grease. He was smiling as he scooped mouthful after mouthful from a large bowl, using a white ladle, gulping the chunks of food without bothering to chew. Ten other men also sat at the table.

Hickok noted several items of interest. Rat was sitting immediately to the left of Maggot. All of the men were armed, but they had leaned their rifles against the wall behind their respective chairs, and out of their reach. Some of them would be packing handguns, but he wouldn’t know which ones for sure until they drew. He did know Rat had the Taurus on his left hip. His eyes lit up when he spotted his Pythons and the Henry, all three on top of the table within Maggot’s easy grasp. He eased out to the corridor.

“Are they still in there?” Bear whispered.

Hickok nodded.

“So how do we play this?” Bear inquired.

“You give me your Winchester and take off,” Hickok answered.

“Do what?”

“Just give me your gun and get out of here.”

“I thought you wanted my help,” Bear, taken by surprise by this unforeseen development, noted.

“I did,” Hickok concurred. “But I’ve changed my mind. I’m going in there alone.”

“Why?” Bear quizzed. “I don’t understand.”

Hickok drew Bear away from the door. “Listen, friend.” He placed his left hand on Bear’s broad shoulders. “One of us needs to stay alive. There’s a chance we’d both be blown away if we barged into that room.”

“I ain’t lettin’ you go in there alone,” Bear affirmed.

“I’ve got to.”

“No way, Hickok.” Bear vigorously shook his head. “I ain’t runnin’ this time. I’m stickin’ by you!”

“Don’t do it for me. Do it for Bertha.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you tell me you and Bertha are friends?”

Bear nodded.

“Good. Then get back to where they found me. That’s where I saw her, and my other friends, in that area. If something happens to me, I can go out easier knowing you’ll be searching for them and helping them if you find them. Their names are Blade, Geronimo, and Joshua. You’ll know them easy enough. They’re as crazy as you say I am.”

“Was Bertha still alive last you saw her?” Bear asked, his tone tinged with unconcealed concern.

Hickok noticed, his brow creasing. What did this mean? Was Bear more than a friend to Bertha?

“Was she?” Bear gripped Hickok’s left arm. “I got to know!”

“She was well when I saw her last,” Hickok slowly acknowledged.

Bear breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“I get the impression you like her a lot,” Hickok casually offered.

“I guess I do,” Bear confessed. “More than I been willing to tell anyone, even her. I’ve decided to ask her to be mine.”

Hickok turned away, pretending to watch the door. “Well,” he said softly, “I reckon life is plumb full of little surprises.”

“What do you mean?”

Hickok faced Bear, a devil-may-care smile on his lips. “I mean, pard, it’s more important than ever that you stay alive and find Bertha.”

“And you?”

“I got a score to settle with Maggot.” Hickok took the Winchester from Bear. “You wait at the end of the hall. If I ain’t the one who comes out of this room after all the shooting is done, hightail your butt out of here and go find Bertha and my pards.”

“I don’t know…” Bear said reluctantly.

Hickok gazed into Bear’s eyes. “Go, Bear, now.” His voice was low and hard.

Bear started to shuffle away. “Is something wrong?”

“What could be wrong?” Hickok walked to the door, his back to Bear.

“Get the hell out of here. Now!”

Bear went, unwillingly, confused by Hickok’s abrupt change.

Hickok held the C.O.P. in his left hand and raised the Winchester.

Good! He could use his thumb and forefinger to grip the rifle barrel and still hold onto the palm gun with his other three fingers. The Winchester contained six shots in its tubular magazine, the C.O.P. four. As a backup, he had his Mitchell’s Derringer on his right wrist.

Time to even the score!

He stared at the door, seeing Bertha’s face. What was Bear to her?

She’d never even mentioned him. Why not? If Bear liked her so much, she had to be aware of his feelings. Maybe Bear was the real reason she had been so dead set against coming back to the Twin Cities? Maybe she felt guilt because she found herself liking both men, one of whom came from a completely different background and culture. What chance did they have?

Realistically speaking? They were as different as night and day. Literally.

How would the Family react if Bertha and he become involved? What would they say? Since when had he cared what anyone else thought? He shook his head, his blond hair swirling. Enough of this morbid reflection!