Twin Cities Run

Chapter Fourteen

He had the impression his entire universe was comprised of sheer pain, and he didn’t want to open his eyes to face a cosmos bent on torturing him. Memories filtered through his brain. The trip to the Twin Cities.

Bertha. The Wacks. The Wacks! He remembered their attack, and the one with the hammer, and he flinched and opened his eyes, wishing he hadn’t as waves of agony rippled along his nervous system.

Blast!

“Well, well, well,” said a deep voice. “Look who’s finally woke up!”

“I was sure he wasn’t gonna make it,” snapped a squeaky voice.

“Pay up.”

“I ain’t got it.”

“You best have it.”

Hickok rose on his elbows. He was lying on a cot in a small room, sunlight streaming in through a shattered window. Two men were in the room with him, one standing on either side of the only door.

“I’ll get it,” said the small man on the right, a man with tiny eyes and a small nose, wearing faded jeans and a torn blue shirt.

“A bet is a bet,” said the big man to the left of the door. “You bet six rounds he wasn’t gonna come out of it, and you were wrong. I’d best have my ammo by the end of the week.” This one wore only jeans, his torso bare and bulging with power, his black skin blending with the shadows in his corner. He was holding a Winchester in his left hand, a 30-30.

“You’ll get it, Bear,” reiterated the other. “I always make good.” He had a revolver strapped around his waist, a Taurus Model 86 in the holster on his left hip.

“I know you do, Rat.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Hickok blithely interrupted. “Could I bother you for a drink? My throat is awful dry.”

“Is it, now?” Rat grinned. “You’ll get a drink when we’re damn ready to give you one and not before.”

“You know, ugly,” Hickok said coldly, “if I was feeling any stronger, I’d get up out of this cot and stuff your face up your ass. Who knows? The view might improve your disposition.”

Hat clenched his fists and came at Hickok.

“Cool it, Rat,” the one called Bear warned.

“You heard what he said to me!” Rat exploded, stopping.

“I heard.” Bear laughed.

Rat reddened. “No one talks like that to me and lives!”

“Our orders are to keep him alive,” Bear said.

Rat glared at Hickok, his fists opening and closing. “I’ll get my chance,” he stated. “Sooner or later.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared in my life,” Hickok grinned.

Rat reluctantly backed to the door.

“You believe in living dangerously, don’t you?” Bear asked Hickok.

“Is there any other way?”

Bear walked over to the cot. “How you feeling?”

“Plumb tuckered out,” Hickok admitted. “I take it I’m your prisoner?”

“You got that right.”

“And who are you guys? Horns?”

This time it was Rat who laughed. “Did you hear that? He thinks we’re Horns? What an idiot!”

“Which proves that Maggot was right, as usual,” Bear said. “This one ain’t from the Twins.”

“Where you from?” Rat demanded.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hickok retorted.

“We’ll find out,” Rat promised. “Sooner or later.”

Hickok took stock of his weapons. The Henry and the Pythons were gone, but he could feel the Derringer on his right wrist and the C.O.P. .357

Magnum strapped to his left leg, above the ankle. Both guns were hidden by his buckskins. Good. He wasn’t defenseless.

“How’d I get here?” Hickok asked them.

“We sent a patrol out after hearing a lot of shooting the night before last,” Bear answered. “They found you out cold.”

Hickok sat up. “You mean I’ve been here a day and a half?” he asked incredulously.

“Sure have. The patrol was checkin’ bodies on University Avenue when they found you still alive. Had a nasty bump on the head. They couldn’t figure out what you were. You sure weren’t no Wack, and you weren’t dressed like a Horn, and you ain’t one of us. They decided to bring you back to Maggot.”

“Who’s Maggot?”

Rat snickered. “You’ll meet him soon enough.”

“Maggot’s our main man,” Bear replied.

“Your boss?”

“Yeah. He calls the shots.”

Hickok had noticed a trend. “You’re called Bear,” he said to the black, “and ugly over there is called Rat, and now you tell me your leader is someone called Maggot. What’s with the names? Why are they all animal or insect names?”

“Sharp one, ain’t you?” Bear complimented him. “The names are Maggot’s idea. He’s got this book all about wild creatures, and he gets a kick out of namin’ us according to the book. He says he tries to pick a name that fits the person.”

“Rat sure fits him.” Hickok indicated Rat. “But I can’t imagine anyone wanting to call himself Maggot.”

“You’ll understand, soon enough,” Bear said slowly. “What’s your name, anyhow?”

“Hickok.” He extended his right hand.

Bear stared at the hand for a few awkward seconds, evidently surprised it had been offered. Finally, he shook with a firm, strong grip.

“Pleased to meet you, Bear,” Hickok said. “Any chance of me getting some food? I could eat a… bear.” He grinned.

So did the black. “We’ll get you something.”

“But Maggot said we was to take him as soon as he woke up,” whined Rat in protest.

“Some food won’t hurt,” Bear stated harshly. “Go get some.”

“Why me?”

Bear pivoted, fixing his eyes on Rat. “Because I told you to, that’s why.”

Rat reached for the door handle.

“And keep your mouth shut,” Bear warned.

Rat left.

“I take it you guys are Porns?” Hickok said.

Bear nodded. “You know an awful lot about the Twins. Where are you from, Hickok?”

“Sorry, Bear, but I think I best keep that information to myself.”

Bear shrugged. “Where’d you learn so much about the Twins, about the Horns and Porns and such?”

“From a friend.”

“This friend have a name?”

“Guess it can’t hurt.” Hickok reflected a moment. “You might even know her. She mentioned she was once a Porn. Her name is Bertha.”

Bear’s mouth dropped at the sound of her name. He crouched next to the cot, studying Hickok’s face. “Bertha?”

“Yeah. You know her then?”

Bear nodded. “We were friends,” he said ruefully, “before she went over to the Nomads.”

“Why’d she switch?”

Bear frowned. “Didn’t she tell you? She went over because of Maggot.”

“Maggot?”

“Yeah. He thinks he can have any woman he wants, any time he wants.

He wanted Bertha, and she told him to go screw himself.”

“Sounds like our girl.”

“Yeah.” Bear smiled. “She’s a scrapper! But Maggot didn’t take to the idea of being told no. He had her tortured.”

“Tortured? How?”

Bear averted his eyes, the memory filling him with a sense of shame.

“Maggot had her arms tied over her head, and she was dangled in the pit.

He thought it would break her.”

“What’s the pit?”

Bear shuddered. “Maggot’s special place for those he don’t like. The pit connects to tunnels, and when someone is thrown in the pit, the rats pour out of the tunnels and eat the poor son of a bitch alive!” Bear paused, wiping his brow with his hand.

“He did that to her?”

Bear swallowed. “Yeah, but instead of throwin’ her in. Maggot put a beam across the top of the pit and hung her from it so she was just out of the rat’s reach. Some of the bigger rats, though, could get her legs if they jumped real hard. Maggot kept her there for three days, until she got away somehow. The next we heard, she’d joined the Nomads.”

“How’d she get away?”

“Don’t rightly know,” Bear responded. “Maggot thinks someone helped her escape.”

“Who would do that?” Hickok asked, smiling.

Bear didn’t notice the smile. “Beats me. If Maggot ever finds out who it is, they’re dead.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Hickok said. “It sure explains a couple of things about Bertha.”

“You say you’re friends?”

“Yep.”

“Where is she now?”

“I wish I knew.” Hickok said sadly. “The last I knew, she was with me, fighting the Wacks. I don’t know where she is now.”

Bear glanced at the closed door, then at Hickok., “Listen, bro, and listen good! Your life ain’t worth dirt here. Maggot is goin’ to kill you. It’s only a matter of when. Don’t let him convince you otherwise. He will kill you!”

“Real hospitable to strangers in these parts,” Hickok muttered. “Are all the Porns so ruthless?”

“No. There’s a lot who don’t like the way things is done.”

“Then why don’t they do something about it?” Hickok asked.

“Lake what?”

“Like kill Maggot and take over?”

Bear’s eyes widened fearfully. “Shut your mouth, honky! You got to keep thoughts like that to yourself!”

“Why don’t they?” Hickok insisted.

Bear checked the door again. “Because Maggot’s men got all the guns, and no one is allowed to get close to Maggot with a weapon. Even if Maggot were killed, there’s no tellin’ who would take over the Porns. Might be someone worse.”

Hickok was digesting that bit of information when the door opened and Rat entered, bearing a tray of food.

Bear quickly stood.

“I got the food,” Rat announced. “And I ran into someone at the food pots. He wanted to come back with me.”

Hickok didn’t like the way Rat’s eyes were gleaming.

“Who?” Bear asked.

“Me,” said a growling voice, and another man filled the doorway, a huge, obese mass of a man, bald on top, wearing baggy pants and a shirt sewn together from numerous other garments. Sweat covered his face, beads of moisture dripping from his thick double chin. He was carrying the Henry, and the two Pythons were tucked into his waistband.

Bear backed away several steps. “Maggot!”

“You were expecting Reverend Paul?” Maggot rumbled.

Rat laughed, reaching the cot and handing the tray to an aching Hickok. The meal consisted of soup and a glass of water.

Maggot lumbered up to the cot. Behind him, four other men, armed to the teeth, came into the room.

Maggot’s bodyguard, Hickok reflected. He took a sip of the tepid water, feigning indifference to

Maggot’s presence.

“You know who I am?” Maggot demanded.

Hickok slowly looked up at the pumpkin head glaring down at him.

“From here, you look like a giant mound of horse shit. Paler, of course.”

Everyone in the room glanced at Maggot, their faces terrified.

Maggot took the insult in stride. “You’re a real smart ass, aren’t you?”

“Proper grammar for once,” Hickok cracked. “Hardly expected to find you were the literate type.”

“My parents taught me to read and write,” Maggot said, smiling, “just before I strangled them to death.”

Hickok grinned at Maggot’s feeble attempts at intimidation. “Too bad it wasn’t the other way around.” He picked up a spoon and tasted the watery soup. Yuck.

“A real smart ass,” Maggot repeated. “I hear your name is Hickok.”

Hickok glanced at Rat, who was grinning from ear to ear. “You got it correctly.”

“Where you from?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Oh?” Maggot’s fingers tightened on the Henry. “What if I insist?”

“You know what they say,” Hickok said, trying another swallow of soup.

It was better than nothing.

“No. What do they say?” Maggot asked, enjoying their game of cat and mouse.

“Insisting is a lot like playing with yourself.”

“How so?”

Hickok grinned. “Neither do you any good unless you’re sure you can get satisfaction out of them.”

Maggot chuckled, his rolls of fat bouncing. “You’ve got a keen sense of humor, Hickok.”

“Thanks.”

“But a deplorable grasp on reality.”

“Oh?” Hickok gulped the soup directly from the bowl. It was amazing how docile starvation could render your taste buds!

“Yes.” Maggot began to pace. “You see, I’m accustomed to getting what I want, when I want it. I can make your life very pleasant, or I can make it very painful. The choice is yours, based on your degree of cooperation with me.”

Hickok finished the soup, deliberately smacking his lips, pretending to ignore Maggot. “Not too bad. What was in it?”

“It was boiled rat,” Rat answered.

Hickok felt his stomach jump and he nearly regurgitated his meal.

“Do you still refuse to tell me where you are from?” Maggot asked insistently.

“I sure do, pard. But…” Hickok lanquidly stretched. “I might answer your questions if you’ll answer some of mine.”

“I’m a reasonable man,” Maggot announced. “What would you like to know?”

“About the Porns. Who are they? Where did they come from?”

“You’re not from the Twins,” Maggot stated, turning to the others.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

They all nodded.

“As far as your questions go,” Maggot continued, “I can’t answer all of them. There aren’t many books left in the Twins. Most have been burned during the cold weather. From what my parents told me, and what I’ve learned on my own, the Porns began as a group of people who stayed behind in the Twins after the war. They took over the west part of the Twins for themselves, and they have been fighting the Horns ever since. That’s the way things were until about seven years ago, when that damned Zahner started the Nomads. They took part of the Horns’ turf away from them, set up their own territory, and vastly complicated our life.”

Hickok was puzzled, still lacking the answers he needed to understand the situation in the Twins. “Why are the Porns and Horns always fighting each other?”

“It’s always been that way.”

“But why? You need to have a reason to fight.”

“You do?” Maggot grinned. “We don’t. We love to kill the Horns! Those bastards look down their noses at us, like we’re the scum of the earth! Them and their lousy God.”

“Their God?”

Maggot raised the barrel of the Henry and smacked it into his right palm. “Enough from me,” he said impatiently. “Now’s time for you to come up with some answers.”

Hickok nonchalantly placed his hand behind him and leaned back.

“Okay. Shoot.” He wondered how Maggot would react to what was coming.

“Where are you from?” Maggot asked.

“Somewhere else,” Hickok casually replied.

“I know that! Where?”

“Deadwood.”

“Deadwood?” Maggot repeated, frowning. “I never heard of it,” he added doubtfully.

“You’ve never heard of Deadwood?” Hickok asked in fake astonishment.

“No. Where is it?”

Hickok tried to estimate the extent of Maggot’s familiarity with geography and history. If the books were destroyed, Maggot’s knowledge would be extremely limited. Maggot would have no way of knowing Wild Bill Hickok was shot and killed in Deadwood.

“Deadwood is west of here a ways,” he answered.

“Really?” Maggot was naively buying the scam. “Who runs this Deadwood?”

“Two men.” Hickok suppressed a grin. “The Lone Ranger and his faithful companion, Tonto.”

“And why are you here?”

“We send people out from time to time,” Hickok explained. “Scouting, hunting, and the like.”

“Are you guys Watchers?” Maggot probed.

“Nope.”

“Do you know where the Watchers are from?” Maggot interrogated.

“Sure don’t,” Hickok replied. “They’re as much a mystery to us as they are to you.”

Maggot paused, mulling the information.

“Anything else you want to know?” Hickok asked helpfully.

“Did you come here alone?”

“Naw. My good pard came with me.”

“Who’s that?”

“You don’t know him. His name is Zane Grey.”

Maggot’s lower lip twitched. “Zane Grey? You don’t say.”

“You’ve heard of him?”

“As a matter of fact,” Maggot stated slowly, “I have.”

Hickok grinned. The fool! He was pretending to be knowledgeable to impress the others.

“I certainly have,” Maggot hissed. Without warning, he bent and rammed the barrel of the Henry into Hickok’s stomach.

Hickok doubled over, gasping for air, the soup gushing from his mouth and over the front of his buckskin shirt.

Maggot grabbed Hickok by the collar and jerked him to his feet. “You had me going, Hickok. I was falling for your shit until you mentioned Zane Grey.

You see, I told you that most of the books in the Twins have been used as fuel for our fires, but not all of them. I personally own a dozen. One of them is called The Day of the Beast, by a man named Zane Grey. Nice try, you son of a bitch!” He threw Hickok to the floor. “Take him to the pit!” he ordered. “We’ll fix his ass! Permanently!”