Raw Ride
A Good Old Fashion
Zombie Apocalyptic Shoot-um Up
‘The only good Indian
is a dead Indian, or maybe not.'
Vargas sat on
the rickety old bunk, his back to the wall, staring down at the blood soaking
the front of his shirt, thankful it wasn’t his, not that it bettered his
current circumstances. He’d never thought he would draw comfort from being
behind bars, but he now assessed his jail cell differently. Many would
probably blame him for this, if they knew the whole story. No denying it, he
had most likely contributed to the current set of affairs. Greed had never been
one of his best attributes. This time though, it had cost him everything.
He wasn’t even sure if what had been done could be undone. One thing for sure,
there would be no three square meals in his future, nor any opportunity for parole
or pardon. His future lay squarely in his hands, and seemed bleak at the best.
The calendar
hanging on the wall opposite his barred cell indicated winter was knocking at
the door. Winters could be harsh in these parts, but harsh seemed a relevant
term now. Vargas had survived many brutal winters but none seemed as
deadly as the one ahead. He glanced over at the only other cell in the tiny
jail, where the young man still hunkered down behind his upturned mattress and
bed. The boy, maybe in his late teens, had not spoken a word. Vargas hadn’t
attempted to strike up a conversation with him, not really willing to share
what he knew just yet, not that the kid knew that he could enlighten him about
their little dilemma. Funny, the kid was there because he had broken some law
and Vargas was here by choice. He twirled the key ring on his finger, a
reminder that he could leave at anytime, of his own free will. He was
comfy, not so cozy for the time being, and wasn’t that eager to venture back
outside.
Vargas thought
he heard something; cocked his head for a better listen, but was overpowered by
his own nasally heavy breathing and pounding heart beat. This damn
waiting was taken its toll. At least in here it was a safe haven. Out
there…out there, it was anyone’s bet. One thing for sure, he couldn’t stay
behind bars forever, as much as it did seem to be a smart move. Name your
poison, a death sentence is a death sentence, or maybe not, given his new
understanding of dead and not dead. He inspected his fingers, his hands and
then his arms, reassuring himself that the bloody spots were not wounds, just
blood, and not his. How the mighty Vargas had taken a plunge, fallen from his
self imposed pedestal, infamous and in high demand once upon a time, but now
his fairy tale had reached a not so happy ending, nightmarish beyond even his
wildest dreams.
The
deathly silence was abruptly interrupted, the voice causing Vargas to flinch, a
man fearful of his own shadow now days. Taking a deep breath, he turned his
head to see the kid standing there, clinching the bars in a death grip. He was
pale and wild eyed. Vargas didn’t fault him for that. He had a right to
be. The kid’s breathing was heavy and irregular, almost as if he had
forgotten how to breathe. He had the look of a fish out of water, only lacking
the flopping motion on the bank after being hooked and landed. Vargas twisted
his head one way, and then the other, his neck snapping and cracking like
breaking tree limbs, bones old and worn, too much tension adding to the discomfort.
“Mister, you
were out there, what’s going on in those streets?”
Vargas rubbed
his hands through his gray streaked oily hair, and then rubbed his eyes and
face, before standing. Both knees popped loudly, arthritis questioning his
maneuver. He hobbled towards the kid, his legs still protesting his first
steps. Rubbing his gnarly almost all gray beard, and then his neck, he
stopped one step shy of the bars that separated him from the frightened young
lad. Eyes locked, he thought carefully before he spoke, measuring his
words, as had become the art of being a showman, a snake oil peddler and
seasoned con man. He wasn’t sure the kid could handle the truth, the whole
truth, so help him God. Unbelievers couldn’t always be convinced, but these
were unbelievable times, even by his standards. Smoke and mirrors,
deceitfulness, illusions and lies, had been his forte, at least until it was no
longer required, not after his most magnificent discovery, the game changer,
and his ticket to the Holy Grail. Wealth and riches, watch for what you wish,
he reminded himself.
“Hey kid, what
you in for?”
“They said I
stole a horse. I didn’t. I found it.”
“Hang’um high
just the same, no tolerance in these parts for horse thieves, guilty unless you
can prove otherwise, so goes it.”
“Why did you
lock yourself in? You have the keys, are you a deputy or something?”
“Or something
about covers it.”
“Mister, I
heard a whole lot of shooting, yelling and screaming earlier. It sounded like a
war had started.”
“Yep, indeed
it did. Wars can be won by one side or the other and it’s wise to pick the
winning side, but in this case, that isn’t necessarily the best choice.
The good guys are at a disadvantage and the bad guys, the ones like me and you,
are not a sure thing either. The table is running against us, odds not in our
favor, and even cheating doesn’t ensure a winning hand.”
“Then who are
they fighting?”
“Who are they
fighting? The key to the war being waged is not necessarily one you could peg
on a who. This fight is not like any a young pup like you has ever
seen. Hell, this is new for an old dog’s eyes. I’m not sure you
would even call this an even fight. It’s like they say, never bring a knife to
a gun fight, only worse. No rules, no holds barred, knockdown, drag out, last man
standing, and the one that gets knocked down don’t amount to much; they just
keep coming, unless you know the secret how to stop them.”
“Mister, I
have no idea what you’re saying. You’re not making much sense. You’re not
touched in the head, are you? “
“I’m crazy all
right. I’ve seen things that would put most men in one of those straitjackets,
locked away, never to see the light of day again; and being crazy might be
better than being a sane man living in an insane world.”
“I don’t even
know why I’m talking to you.”
“You
instigated this little conversation, kid, not me. It makes no mind to me if we
chat or not. Anything I have to say doesn’t change a single solitary thing. You
want out; here’s the key. You’re free to leave. I don’t have a dog in the hunt
and it doesn’t much matter to me what the hell you do. ”
“Why don’t you
leave then?”
“You some sort
of moron, boy; you said it yourself, I came here and locked the door. I had
good call to be locking my ass in a jail cell. Bars are not for just keeping people
inside; it keeps the outside from getting in. Here, you want the keys or
not? All I ask is just hand it back over to me once you unlock your door.”
“Please, just
tell what’s going on out there, Mister.”
“Call me
Vargas. Everything has a starting point, a beginning before the ending. This is
no different, except the ending might be the real end in this case. Do you have
religion, boy? Don’t answer that. It’s not much good for what I’m about to tell
you. God is not going to save you from hell on earth. There are powers that
maybe even he can’t control or destroy. I’m not a God fearing man, never have
been and believe me when I say it; you can’t pray your way out of this mess.”
“I’m Henry
McCarty. I don’t think the deputy who locked me up in here knows who I
really am and I’m sure as hell not going to be confessing my identity.”
“Ah yes, I’ve
heard of you, kid. Not to worry, it’ll be mine and your little secret. Horse
thieving isn’t the worse of your offenses or worries, but like I said, hanging
is hanging, and if you’re lucky enough, just maybe you’ll meet that hangman
some day. So, tell me, Henry, do you want to hear this from the
beginning? We got plenty of time, so long as we keep these cell doors locked.”
“I reckon I
might be persuaded to stay a spell, at least until I know what’s going on out
there is done. Like you said, we can leave anytime we want. We got us the
keys.”
“Hold on to
them and hold on to the seat of your breaches. You might even want to sit down.
I’m long winded and got plenty to say.”
Happy New Year
