“I need explosives,” McParlan said.
“Sorry, but we don’t use any. The entire settlement drills strictly by laser so we don’t risk damaging any of the product.”
McParlan looked at the laser drilling machine and said, “Actually, these might work even better. Can I see one in action?”
“You sure can. Come back tomorrow at seven AM. We’re all done for the day.”
McParlan put his hands on his side and said, “Actually, I’d like to see it a little sooner than that, son. Like, now.”
“No can do, Marshal. The machines take forty minutes to work up enough charge to fire. We can only use a single machine twice in the same day. I don’t have any left to give you a demonstration with, Marshal.”
“Damn,” McParlan said. “Don’t you have anything else?”
“Just a few handheld’s.”
“Show me.”
Masters took the Marshal to the equipment lot and showed him a bulky backpack contraption with a hose connected to a barrel. “These things are heavy as hell, but nothing works better for delicate detail work.”
“What’s their range?”
“About a foot and a half.”
“Can it be expanded?”
“To what?”
“Fifty feet.”
Masters laughed and said, “No. They’d blow up.”
“Let’s just say I’m looking to increase security around here,” McParlan said. “The Sheriff around these parts couldn’t handle an invasion of old ladies with knitting needles, and I’m afraid something much worse than that is coming. You got any interest in helping me?”
Masters looked over his shoulder at the men leaving the worksite to head home. The men waved to Masters and he waved back and said, “Goodnight.” He turned to look at the Marshal and said, “This sounds like an over-a-beer conversation to me. You thirsty?”
An hour later, the sound of rattling keys woke Elijah Harpe. He rolled over on his side to face the cell door, and saw Harlan Wells selecting the right key to fit into the lock. The old man put a heavy iron one into the door and started to turn it. Elijah rubbed his eyes and waited for the dream to end.
Harlan yanked the door open and said, “Come on out, you idiot.”
Elijah laid back down on the bunk and folded his hands behind his head. “You are stupider than that potato-headed son of yours if you think I’m dumb enough to fall for that. You think I’d let you shoot me in the back as I walk down the steps just so’s you can claim a reward?”
Harlan’s voice was deeper when he said, “Little Willy says you might even be stupider than you are ugly. And that’s quite an achievement.”
Elijah’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright. “Well, I’ll be damned. How in the hell did he manage to get to one of you all the way out here?”
Harlan’s eyes fluttered and his face twisted. He gasped and reached out to clutch the door to try and pull it shut and keep it open at the same time, with one arm struggling against the other. “No! Get out, you son of a bitch. Get out!”
Elijah watched the old man with amusement and said, “I’m getting.” He pushed Harlan away from the door as he limped out on his bad leg. “Back up, you damn fool.”
Fat droplets of sweat spilled off of Harlan’s face. He had to hold onto the cell doors just to stay on his feet. Through clenched teeth he said, “Meet by the crash site. We’ve got a weapon now that will change everything, forever.”
Elijah walked over to the Sheriff’s desk to look at the framed photograph. He popped the frame open and took out the picture. He tore off the end that showed the little girl with pigtails, smiling up at her daddy. Elijah ran his finger over her face and whispered, “I bet you’re real pretty now, Claire.” He looked at Harlan, “Tell Willy I’ll meet him right here in the morning. I have some reckoning to attend to.”
“Stop… stop…” Harlan muttered as he struggled to pull the pistol from his waistband. Elijah Harpe limped down the steps of the Sheriff’s office and just as he reached the street, Harlan got the gun free and raised it to his back. “DO NOT TRY TO DEFY ME.”
“Get out of my head,” Harlan gasped. He tried squeezing the trigger, but watched in horror as his arm began moving toward a woman walking down Pioneer Way. The woman was completely unaware as she strolled along the shop windows, admiring the items within, when Harlan’s gun erupted, blowing a hole through the back of her hat and splattering its light blue fabric with dark blood.
People looked up from all around the town square to see the woman crumple to the ground. They waited, like it was a street performance and did not want to be thought a fool for acting surprised. Men in front of the Proud Lady lowered their mugs of beer and stopped talking. Children in front of the candy shop stood still as the old man holding the pistol groaned in misery, and blood spread out on the dirt under the woman’s hat.
Women screamed and snatched their children up, dragging them back into the stores or into the alleyways. Three miners waiting to cash their checks at the Savings and Loan ran at Harlan, yelling for him to stop, but he turned on them and fired. Harlan moved like a machine across the street, turning his gun on anyone who looked at him.
Anna Willow threw her office door open and stood open mouthed at the sight of Harlan Wells coming toward her, gun at the ready. “Mr. Wells!” Anna shouted. She saw the bodies lying on the street behind him, but the cold, expressionless mask of his face terrified her more than anything. Harlan raised his gun to her face.
“No!” she cried and everything slowed down and magnified. The mouth of the barrel widened to reveal the spiraled rifling within. The flat steel surface of the bullet inside the chamber seemed larger than her fist. The only sound in the world was the mechanical click of the revolver’s cylinder turning as Harlan squeezed the trigger. The gun fired and chunks of the doorframe exploded above Anna’s head, showering her with wooden splinters as she dropped to her knees and covered her head. “Why are you doing this?” she screamed.
“I can’t stop!” Harlan’s gun hand shook and his pale cheeks exploded with burst blood vessels. “He’s making me do this! Somebody help me!”
The office door opened behind her and Adam Wells came out of the office, looking in wonder at the way Anna cowered in front of his father. He turned to look at Harlan and smiled.
Harlan turned the gun on his son and said, “Please, please, no. I beg you. I will shoot myself if you want, right now. Adam, run away! Run away!”
Anna stood up in front of Adam, backing him toward her office while shielding him with her body. “Harlan! Listen to me. You don’t have to do this. Your son didn’t do anything wrong.”
Harlan’s jaw sawed back and forth and when he spoke, his voice was not the same. “You never wanted him anyway. When you saw how he was you thought about drowning him in the bath, old man. You hated what he took from you.”
“What is wrong with you?” Anna shrieked. She yanked Adam down onto the ground next to her and covered him with her arms. “Leave us alone.”
Tears streamed down Harlan’s face and blood collected in his nostrils and spilled down his chin, dribbling between his lips. “I will not do this! You cannot make me, you son of a bitch!”
Marshal James McParlan ran down the street yelling, “Put that goddamn weapon down, Harlan! What the hell has gotten into you?” He raised his Balrog and fired at the ground by the old man’s feet, but Harlan did not even notice.
“McParlan?” Harlan said. He let out a laugh and said, “Marshal James McParlan?”