It was a lovely day, only three clouds drifting in the sky.

Lucy’s favorite was the one shaped like a motorcycle­­––if she knew what one of those was.

She had not a care in the world.

But then why was her heart racing? And was that blood dripping into her eyes?

A horse nudged her to get up. She liked horses. She was happy to see it.

The horse was okay, that was good. She liked that the horse was uninjured, it soothed her aching skull.

And there were two horses coming to greet her, her horse wouldn’t be lonely. What a wonderful development!

But why was the voice in the back of her head screaming for her to run?

And what was she doing again? Something about gold and… a ranch? There was an explosion or two, that was coming back.

She shot up, those weren’t friendly horses.

She threw herself into a sprint that lasted about two steps, her leg reminding her she had just been thrown from a horse. It was stiff, refusing the weight forced upon it. Causing her to limp away. “If ah live through this, ah’m spending the next three weeks in a nice bubble bath.”

Funny she should mention that for there was only one place in Square One to accommodate that request­­––the Abbott Hotel. The same place Harvey first visited during his fateful trip. And without being aware of any of this, she stumbled right through the doors.

Lucy had other worries. She hadn’t made the connection even after sitting through the tale multiple times. She rushed passed the empty halls, discarded luggage, and rotting food. Murderous men with guns have a habit of taking up one’s mind.

All the hotel’s doors were open, she picked the least obvious one––room five––and slammed the door. Then she thought better of this. If the other doors were open, the shut one would be suspicious. Begrudgingly, she opened the door halfway. Taking a spot right on the bed across from the door, she aimed at the doorway. Anyone who decided to peek their heads in would get a bullet as a “how do you do.”

Repositioning herself out of nervousness, she couldn’t quite get comfortable. The longer it took for them to appear, the more she fidgeted, second guessing her plan.

There were flaws big enough to run a train through. Too much that could go wrong with her hastily thrown together defensive position.

“Where are they?” she asked.

There were windows but daring to look out of them could end badly.

She counted the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three-hundred and forty-seven.

When the wait couldn’t get more unbearable, the hooves pounded outside, every beat dripping ice into her veins.

“You go in there,” John yelled. “I’ll check here.”

She wasn’t breathing, breathing could get her killed. He didn’t say specifically where he would be checking. But it had to be the hotel. It was the first building she saw, only logical the same was true for them. They were going to converge, that was the only way for this to end. They were coming for her. They had the numbers and the ammo. She had one shot, if she was lucky. She wouldn’t be getting a second. Not laying out in the open.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel so safe.

She got up, leaving the bags of gold on the bed. The plan was changing; distract them with greed if only for the moment. They go for the gold and she would make them regret it.

She huddled in the door way off to the right, giving her a view of anyone heading for the bed. It was the bathing room complete with a bathtub. A bathtub that could fulfill her bubble bath requirement nicely. Or better yet, a firing position. She laid on her stomach in the metal tub, keeping low, her gun snooping over the side.

Two minutes had passed, yet still there were no footsteps.

“Ah don’t have all day.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood. The atmosphere of the room shifted, the air was thicker, it felt like she was struggling to suck in oxygen. There was a peculiar taste in her mouth, a metallic spark. She didn’t enjoy it. Every fiber of her being wanted to run, to be anywhere else but there.

Behind her came a growl, a labored and exhausted growl. A growl that came from no animal she had ever known. As if a wolf had a tin can jammed over its snout.

Something was in the room with her. How could that be? The bathing room had a tub, a door, and a window. She was facing the door and to get in through the window, a man would have to climb the outside of the inn. An impossibility without her hearing it.

Something metal and cold––colder than a pound in winter––clenched around her throat, lifting her up from the tub. Slamming her up against the wall, she was eye to eye with a strange fellow.

It was definitely a man. A man she had never met before. He was the sort of man one would remember. For one, he was tall. Not insanely tall––he was barely six foot––but there was a presence about him that made him seem taller than any man that had ever walked upright.

His face was scarred with deep cuts and burns. There wasn’t an inch that wasn’t marked by a profound line. His eyes were light blue, almost grey.

Then came the unusual stuff. His jaw––from chin to just below his nose––was covered in a metal copper plate. She would describe it as copper but when the light hit it just right, it shined a shade of lavender. Three holes––straw sized––had been struck through the plate which was why Lucy could be certain he had no lower jaw to speak of. There was nothing beneath; he had no mouth, no teeth, nor bone.

That wasn’t the only thing missing. He wore not a stitch of clothing, revealing more scars and wounds. His body an compendium for countless battles. Each scar told a different story. His left arm was normal. The right, however, was made of the same copper material as his jaw. A robotic arm replacing the appendage from his hand to his shoulder. The hand was meant to function more like a claw. The finger tips sharp to the touch. It’s designed evoked a knight’s ornate armor that a blacksmith had over stylized.

One last thing because one could not talk about him without mentioning the apparatus in his chest. Dead center was what could be called a porthole––if it was found on a ship. A metal framed circle encased in cracked blue glass giving a peek into his interior workings. Inside his heart was covered in machinery, wires, veins, and tubes. When it pumped blood, a white light surge through the tubes.

Lucy would have asked him about these odd and horrifying images if her throat weren’t being crushed.

“Rompo,” he growled.

“I—I…” she couldn’t quite get the words out; her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

He lifted her up closer to his face. “Rompo.”

She croaked out, “what’s… a… Rom…po?”

He let her go. She fell to her feet coughing as the air rushed back into her lungs.

“Listen here,” she said tapping her gun against his chest glass. “Ya can’t go around choking people. I should shoot ya and be done with it.”

She felt a tug on her arm for a split second and noticed the gun had vanished from her grip. She would have reached for the other but that too was in his hands.

Her new friend held them, sniffing them like a dog. He opened the chambers and scanned their workings.

Lucy reached for them. “Those are mine!”

He pulled them away. “No.”

“Ya can’t just take people’s stuff, there are laws against that. Give me back ma guns and ah’ll show ya a thing or two.”

“No,” he took the revolvers into his copper claw and gripped them tightly. They crumbled instantly into a ball. “Unarmed.”

He dropped it, it collided with the floor in a heavy thud. He walked right by her as if he had never seen her to begin with.

“Hey, cowboy,” she said following him out, somewhat in awe of how he destroyed the revolvers.

He slowed down, pressing his metal claw against the wall. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was about to pass out. His free hand clenching the glass in his chest.

“Are you sick?” she asked.

“Dying,” he replied with his raspy growl.

“That’s something we have in common. Did ya see those two men out there? We are having a little disagreement. They are going to kill me, and ah would rather they didn’t. Can ya see the bind ah’m in?”

“Don’t care,” he simply said.

He spoke in an exhale. It gave the impression he was growling when he was just struggling to speak. An act she would say was improbable without a mouth but he was the one who crushed her guns like they were pieces of paper so who was she to argue?

“What does that mean?” she asked.

He sniffed the air around the door, something had his attention. He followed the scent, getting a good whiff of anything in his path. He gave Lucy and her hair a snort. His copper claw bringing up a coil of hair to his nostrils.

“Excuse me!” she said pushing him away. “Do that again and ah’ll make you less pretty. You know? Scratch that. Ah’d just end up making you handsome.”

Her words were sent to deaf ears. He seemed to look right through her. The scent called to him. Its siren song radiating from the two bags on the bed.

“Those are mine,” Lucy said worrying what else he might try to take from her. He opened one of the bags and ran his hand through the gold nuggets and coins. Lucy smacked his hand, but he did not let go. She did it again, still nothing. A third time gave the same result, but he got the hint and set the bag down. “Didn’t yer mother ever tell ya it’s impolite to go through a woman’s things?”

“The metal,” he replied. “Malleable. Required.”

Lucy laughed. “Ya are going to have to crush me into a ball if ya think ah’m just going to let ya abscond with ma money. Not after all this trouble.”

His claw appeared an inch away from her face, blocking her view of the rest of the room. She didn’t see it move, it was just there. The claw twitching as if it yearned to carve off her flesh.

“But ah’m willing to deal,” she said. “Like a seventy/thirty split.”

Footsteps hammered up the stairs.

“Green ascends,” he said.

“Green?” she asked confused. Her eyes darted to the door. “Ya mean Matthew? Ya are the one with the…” she didn’t know what to call his robotic arm, “…that thing, so ya handle him.”

“Not involved.”

“He will have no qualms about shooting ya too. What am ah supposed to do? Ah’m unarmed thanks to ya. Ah guess I could throw my shoe at him but ah think that would just piss him off more.”

“Green armed. Knife.”

“That’s good to know. Ah’ll make sure to remind him, so he can put me out of my misery when the bullet doesn’t kill me straight away.”

Matthew’s steps stopped at the door. “Lucy, come out and I won’t shoot you. We just want the gold. You can go freely.”

“So, all those bullets on the ride here were ma imagination?” she asked.

“I was being kind,” Matthew answered. “That’s my last ounce of mercy.”

“Come on in, ma friend and ah are waiting. And ah’ll tell ya what, ya goin’ need a cannon to take this sumvabitch out.”

She reached back for reassurance. Instead, she touched empty air. It was impossible for him to exit that room without her noticing, but he had entered it under the same circumstances. She turned around; he was gone. But even worse––

“The son of a bitch took ma gold!” she said.

“What’s that?” Matthew asked. “Aw fuck it!”

Lucy sprang for the door. Matthew’s shoulder rammed the door first, so when Lucy smashed into it, the door pushed back on Matthew, shutting it right on his revolver. The impact knocked them both flat on their asses. On the plus side, the door rested in the exact spot it was in before the collision.

The gun skidded across the floor, running into the wall. The two popped their heads up in its direction.

And how the tables turn, Lucy went from being unarmed against two foes to being unarmed with an unarmed foe and a weapon in arms reach. Okay not an arm, more like two body lengths, but it was achievable. She had to get her hands on the revolver first.

Lucy crawled up, finding her footing. Matthew was still a bit dazed, but he was well aware of his position. Lucy was going to beat him. She leapt for the gun—

The door swung open, knocking Lucy off balance. It was not on purpose, Matthew was using it to prop himself up––the door was halfway open remember. He put his weight against it and it gave way right into Lucy. Instead of coming down with her hands clenched on a gun, she landed on her chin roughly the same distance away in the other direction.

Now it was Matthew’s turn, he was unmolested as he jumped onto the gun. Lucy jumped after him, landing right on top of him. It was too late, Matthew had the gun. Only he was lying on top of it, unable to pull it out from under him with Lucy scrambling up his back.

It came down to if Lucy could hold down a person twice her weight. Matthew twisted and throttled his body wildly. He didn’t know where the vulnerable spots were, but dammit he was going to hit one or die trying. Lucy placed her hands on his bouncing head searching for an eye to gouge but with all the different fronts she had to force down, she couldn’t give it the focus it deserved. She was slowing, her strength dying.

It was no use, Lucy couldn’t keep it up. He was wiggling free and she was exhausted. Every muscle was strained. Perhaps if she hadn’t fallen from the casino and been thrown from the horse, she could win. But her body could only take so much punishment.

With what little she had left, she poked her fingers into him searching for a weak point. Her hand slid to his belt where it found something loose.

Her sudden hesitation gave him an opportunity. Matthew put all his weight into pushing up, tossing Lucy off. The gun was free, moving right towards Lucy’s face. She shut her eyes preparing for the inevitable bang.

But Matthew froze holding his arms around himself. He looked like he was going to be sick. This was an involuntary reaction to the knife in his chest. His breathing halted. It hurt tremendously to breathe. He crawled away from her, inspecting the damage.

Lucy examined the empty sheath in her hands.

Blood dripped from the knife, Matthew couldn’t help but watch the fluid leave his body. The blood seeping through his fingers, spreading across his shirt. The amount of pressure wouldn’t stem the tide. It wouldn’t dawdle, what he would give if it would dawdle.

Lucy was as shocked as he was. “Green has knife.”

Matthew wanted to laugh but his throat was filling with blood. He managed a gurgling chuckle.

“Quite,” he said. “Green had knife. I had a name as well.”

“Ah know you did,” Lucy replied.

The man who once had a name had no more blood to give. His heart quit. She gave a moment of silence to her former partner, it was the least she could do.

“Matt!” John called from below. “You get her?”

Thus, ended the moment of silence, Lucy closed Matthew’s eyes. She grabbed his gun belt and slipped it on. She pushed back her sweaty hair, popping Matthew’s hat on to keep the uncontrollable curls out of her way.

“I’m coming up,” John said. As he took the first step, he heard footsteps from above. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

He halted; there on the top step was a blood drenched Lucy Wyler.

“He’s dead?” John asked.

She nodded, confirming it. Another small dignity she could give him.

“That’s one you’ve killed,” John said.

“Two,” she replied. “If ya don’t leave now.”

“I’m not leaving without the gold.”

“There is no gold. It was stolen while ya guys were hunting me.”

“Bullshit. You expect me to believe that?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what ya believe or not. But ah tell you this, if you kill me, ya will never see that money again. Or we can work together one last time. Ah’m the only one who saw the fucker.”

His hand brushed the grip of his revolver. “Your greed led to the death of my best friend, I can’t let you walk out of here.”

“Ah wanted none of this,” she said. “Ah tried to do this the easy way. Ah figured the dynamite wouldn’t kill ya. But ya couldn’t just let me walk away. Ah hate being shot at. Really tried to do this without being shot at.”

“Is that what you are going to tell Lucifer when you meet him?” he asked.

She had something pithy to say but John had no desire to hear any more excuses. It was time.

The standoff. Who would pull first?

Both hands swayed a centimeter toward their holsters, testing their opponent. Seeing what they would do. Itching to be a little closer.

Another centimeter.

Sweat dripped from John’s nose.

He pulled forcing Lucy to do the same. Matthew had unintentionally done more than he would ever know. Lucy couldn’t get a grip on the revolver, her hand was slippery from the blood, she couldn’t get the damn thing out of the holster. John wouldn’t allow for a second tug, with no trouble, his gun was out.

What do you do with a gun you can’t bring to a gunfight? You bring the gunfight to the gun.

Lucy––being Lucy––didn’t think this through step by step––pun intended. As one might have expected, her first move was to get out of the way of certain death. She dropped back as John fired; she could swear everything was in slow motion allowing her to watch as the bullet missed her nose by a foot. Now that she had succeeded in not being shot, on to step two: shooting John. If only she could get the gun pointed at him. But as it happened, she was falling backward and in that position the gun was aimed right at him, still in its holster.

She pulled the trigger.

Her perception returned to normal, Lucy landed on the next step then continued down the rest of them, thirteen steps reminding her thirteen times of each bruise, scrape, and cut she had sustained in the last two days. This was the cost of winning. And so far, it kept punishing her. But unlike her last falls, she landed on something soft and wet.

John broke her fall.

He didn’t speak or move. A hole in the neck had a habit of doing that to a man.

“Told ya ah would take yer breath away,” Lucy said.

Dead men don’t reply. Lucy’s pursuers were gone. However, she lacked the gold. That was a problem for another time. With no energy left to give, sleep took hold.

#

She awoke several hours later; the day had grown long, and the sun was in its last throws. The sleep hadn’t calmed down the throbbing that had replaced the sensation throughout her body but there was only so long one can sleep on top of a corpse.

“Ah thought ah asked for a wake up call,” she said using John to steady herself up. Remembering to take his gun belt as well.

Outside the hotel, there was a friendly face drinking from the water trough. The horse snorted at her touch. “Glad to see ya too. Ah loved to let you drink water, but we have work to do.”

Stealing one of the other’s saddles, she climbed onto the horse.

The hunt had only just begun.

And for her to succeed, she had to answer a question that had been plaguing philosophers since the dawn of time.

“Now if ah was a naked metal man carryin’ sacks of gold, where would ah go?”