“Leave it to me.” Capiletti spoke into his radio. “Okay, people, we’re gonna take ’em. No noise. Repeat, no noise. And I want the bodies disposed of. Robbins. Mattick, Howard, Stein, you take the two in the alley. Andrushack, Washburn, Kent and Sagretti. you take the two on Third. Donninger and Miller, you stand by. On my signal, repeat, on my signal, use stingers to drop the two out front. Lethal dose. Okay, everybody got it? Move out!”
It was just a short walk down Allen Street to the hotel, but they hadn’t gone more than a few steps past the corner of Allen and Fifth, where the Oriental Saloon was located, when Scott heard the ominous clicking of a hammer being cocked.
“Don’t move, Kid,” said Curly Bill Brocius. “Keep your hands out at your sides and turn around, real slow.”
Scott stood perfectly still. Beside him, Jenny stiffened with a gasp and looked over her shoulder.
“Curly Bill! What are you doing? Have you gone crazy?”
“You step away from him now, Jenny. This is between the Kid and me.”
“Do as he says, Jen,” Scott said.
“But-”
“ Do as he says!”
She moved away from his side,
“Why didn’t you just shoot me in the back, Brocius?” said Scott, tensing.
“I don’t think I want to do that,” Curly Bill replied. “You’re gonna get it from the front, so everyone will know I can beat you to the draw when it counts.”
“I see,” said Scott, not turning around. “Only you’ve already got your pistol out. That’s not exactly beating me, is it?”
“Bill, don’t-”
“Stay out of it, Jenny!” Scott snapped.
“I will not stay out of it! Bill, this is murder! You’ll hang for it!”
“Maybe I will and maybe I won’t.” Curly Bill replied. “I’ll take my chances. I’ll give you a fair chance, Kid. Pistols loaded this time. Let’s do it for real.”
“How do I know you won’t just shoot me as soon as I turn around?” asked Scott.
In reply. Curly Bill lowered the hammer on his Colt and put it back in its holster. “I’ve holstered my pistol. Ask Jenny if you don’t believe me.”
Scott frowned. “Did he do it, Jenny?”
“Yes,” she said, in a small voice.
Scott glanced at her. “You’re too close. Move back.”
“Scott.
“I said, move back!”
She stepped back up on the boardwalk, watching them both fearfully.
“Go ahead, Kid. Turn around and make your play.”
Behind them, some people saw what was going on and made haste to get out of range of any stray bullets. Scott moistened his lips. Something was wrong here. Curly Bill knew he could beat him. Surely he wasn’t going to give him an even chance. Unless, of course, there was another gun pointed at him somewhere…
Still standing with his back to Brocius. Scott said. “I’d like to give Jenny a kiss, Curly Bill. Just in case. That all right with you?”
“Sure. Why not? Be quick about it, though.”
“Jenny..
She came running to his arms. “Scott..”
“Listen, Jenny,” he whispered in her ear, urgently, as he put his arms around her. “Look up at the roof of the saloon and tell me if you see anybody up there.”
He felt her stiffen, then she pressed her cheek against his as he hugged her close, so she could see behind him. He heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Oh. God.” she whispered. “Scott. I can see a man up there! He’s got a Winchester!”
“Okay. Jenny, keep calm.” Scott whispered back. As he held her close, with his hands behind her back, he popped open the hinged cover on his warp disc. Pretending to kiss her neck, he looked down behind her and quickly programmed the disc, hoping he could reedy estimate the height and distance…
“That’s enough!” said Brocius. “Let’s get on with it!”
“Jen. as soon as I let you go. I want you to get out of here.” said Scott. “Don’t ask any questions, just run. Can I count on you?”
She nodded. He gave her a quick kiss and let her go. She ran back toward the saloon.
“Okay, Kid. Turn around and make your play.”
Instead of turning around. Scott quickly hit the button on his warp disc and disappeared.
Brocius quickly drew his gun, then blinked and stared with disbelief. “What the.
Scott reappeared on the roof of the Oriental Saloon, directly behind the rifleman. The man still hadn’t recovered from his shock at suddenly seeing his target vanish into thin air.
“Psst! Over here,” said Scott.
As the startled man spun around. Scott fired. The bullet took him in the chest and he went flying off the roof to land in the street below.
Scott moved to the edge and looked down. Brocius, having heard the gunfire, was staring up at him, his jaw hanging open. The moment he saw him, he lifted his gun and let off a wild shot, then took off running.
Scott ducked hack from the edge as soon as Brocius fired at him. When he heard his running footsteps on the boardwalk below, he moved forward again and looked down at the body of the sniper, sprawled on the street below. It was Ross Demming.
Scott’s lips were set in a tight grimace. It was possible that Demming and Brocius had been acting on their own, but he didn’t believe it for a second. It had to be O’Fallon, in his guise of Johnny Ringo, setting him up for an ambush. The gloves were off. He moved back from the edge of the roof as people came running out into the street to see what happened. He set the transition coordinates on his warp disc for his room back at the hotel and clocked out. As soon as he materialized, he spun around quickly, his guns out, but the room was empty.
It would no longer be safe to stay here. Only where else could he go? It would no longer be safe anywhere. Brocius didn’t seem in the least bit worried about having Jenny witness the shooting. Nor did he try to stop her when she ran. Which could only mean one thing. He was not concerned about the Earps. He checked the date on his disc. October 25. 1881. The eve of the O.K. Corral shoot-out.
He frowned. That couldn’t possibly be right. That was still days away. But the warp disc couldn’t be wrong. He had never heard of one malfunctioning. And if it had malfunctioned… no, he didn’t want to think about that. It was getting late. He hurried downstairs to the bar and got a copy of the Tombstone Epitaph. He stared at the front page with disbelief.
“Like a drink, Kid?” asked the barman.
“Yeah,” said Scott, dully, “Whiskey. Make it a double.”
The date on the front page was October 25. 1881. It seemed impossible. Somehow, without even being aware of it, he’d lost an entire week.
He downed the whiskey in two quick gulps, feeling the fire as it burned down his throat and in his stomach. A whole week? How was it possible? He paid for his drink, put the paper down on the bar and went back up to his room, in a daze. He locked the door and sat down on his bed, his mind racing.
He could think of only one possible explanation. The temporal instability was increasing rapidly and dramatically Either he had somehow crossed over from one timeline into the other without realizing it, and lost a week in the process, or the timeline had started to ripple and the effect was concentrated in this sector. Somehow, a week had passed in a matter of hours. And he hadn’t even noticed. It was as if he’d been picked up by a timewave and deposited farther down the shore.
He tried to think what implications this new development could have for the mission. Had he alone experienced this effect, or were Priest. Cross and Delaney caught up in it as well? And, if so, were they aware of it? Would he be able to warn them, or were they still in the other timeline? And what would happen if they’d been caught in the ripple effect and carried farther down the timestream than where he was now?
