Part 12: At the Mining Camp (continued)

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I was reminded of a story I’d been told by an old Texas Cowboy one day, when I was very young. Texans do like to tell a story. It’s not just me. I come by it honestly.

He said that when Davy Crockett and his buddies from Tennessee saw the number of enemy forces at the Alamo, they knew the end was near. Bravely, they loaded their muskets one final time and prepared to give their lives for Texas Independence and the cause of freedom. When the enemy were just steps away, one of Crockett's crew snidely remarked...

"At least we won't have to travel through that God forsaken Arkansas again to get back home..."

... they all nodded in agreement.

Same thing here but different. The roads I’d had to cross between here and the Bifrost Bridge had been a bitch. If they killed me now I wouldn’t have to drive over em again.

I kept feeding my SmokePole micro-missiles, Chris kept shooting his hand cannon. I had a good supply of reloads. So did Chris.

About that time the local security arrived like a tsunami. The bandits were cut down like wheat before the scythe. Only a very few remained alive. The smart ones had sense enough to turn tail and run. All the others died right there.

The smart one’s weren't all that smart. They didn’t ditch their Cell Phones when they ran for the tall grass. Active Cell Phones constantly transmit a signal to the cell tower…or to the cops smart guns.

Easy targets. Lambs to the slaughter.

I struggled to get off my belly. It was harder than I would have imagined. In the heat of the moment I hadn’t realized how many times I had been hit. I was hurt pretty bad. I’d taken a lot of damage from those airbursts. I was leaking. The icy water Chris and I were laying in looked like ketchup.

I hadn’t been hit as bad as Chris, he’d contributed more to the crimson color of the water than I had. Apparently I’d actually heard two shots. One bullet had hit me. One had hit him. He wasn’t wearing any armor. He hadn’t said a word about it, he just kept fighting. What with all the shrapnel and that bullet he wasn’t in very good shape. I finally managed get to my knees beside him. He didn’t move.

“How you doing there sonny?” I croaked politely

“Ah, you old buzzard…I’m not doing so well.” He whispered “I’m thinking that I might not be surviving this one.“

“Don’t talk like that youngster” I said “Hang in there. The medics will be here shortly.”

“Ah Laddie...I know mortal wounds when I feel them. I can’t feel my toes, or even move my legs for that matter. I’m about done. If you’d be so kind as to do me a favor, please? I’d take it kindly if you’d give my sister this Amulet when you deliver the BloodyMary to her.” his whisper was a faint gurgle. Blood was bubbling from his lips. He appeared to be having trouble seeing.

“I certainly will” I promised.

“Thank you so very much.” he whispered. “Her number is inscribed on it’s back. Please tell her I love her.” His whisper was so faint that I had to lean forward to hear it.

His breath was but bubbles through the bloody froth. I had leaned close...my ear near his mouth….striving to hear what he said, not easy after those hand-cannon blasts. My efforts were futile.Those were his final words. That was his last breath. His body went limp and the light left his eyes. He was gone. Silently, with tears in my eyes, I closed his eyelids with bloody fingers.

I’d only known him for but a few hours, yet we were comrades in battle, brothers in arms...and we shared the same taste in jewelry. I was proud to have called him my friend. I would do as he requested. His amulet was shaped much like the Hammer of Thor…much like the one I wore. He wore it on a golden chain hanging from a torque he wore around his neck, just like I did.

I carefully unsnapped his amulet from his torque and reattached it to mine. It hung under my dripping bloody white beard and lay on my sodden chest, right next to my own ThumBrain. Now I wore two Amulets. Oddly enough they hung very well together. They nested as if they were one.

I thought I felt an electric tingle.….how strange.

One of the rent-a-cops, perhaps an officer, noticed me kneeling over Chris’s body. He approached quickly.

"Mister...how is your buddy? Is there anything I can do?......"

I swayed a bit, collapsed and blacked out.

To Be Continued
The Next Episode is
Part 13 : Interlude 3
The Last episode was
Part 11 : At the Mining Camp: Title
the first episode was
Part 1 : Winter Storm

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