Even as his hands scraped against the rocky soil and his knees pounded against the ground, he didn’t feel a bit of pain. All he could think about was getting up again.
Grissom watched with amusement. The scarred skin of his face twisted like an ugly mask that had been partially melted in the sun. “I set more fires than I can count. They’s all a thing of beauty. You’d see that if you just settled down and took a look for yourself.”
Rather than admire Grissom’s handiwork, Doc strained to see farther down the street. The moment he saw smoke billowing up from the end of the block where Dr. Seegar worked, Doc scrambled to get moving again.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Grissom said as he reached out to grab hold of Doc’s jacket. “I said for you to watch this with me, an’ that’s just what you’re gonna do.”
Like most everyone else who didn’t know better, Grissom assumed that Doc’s slender build and pale complexion meant he was weak. He was shown the error of his ways soon enough when Doc wheeled around to send a vicious right hook into Grissom’s chin.
The punch snapped Grissom’s head back and loosened his grip on Doc. His eyes were wide with surprise, but the smile soon came back onto his face when he spotted Doc running for the drugstore down the street.
“Where’s John?” Doc wheezed to the first person he could find outside of A. M. Cochrane’s Drug Store.
The man had his sleeves rolled up and a dazed expression on his face. After a few seconds, Doc recognized him as one of the store’s clerks.
“John Seegar?” the clerk asked.
“Yes. Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I heard the explosion and was about to take a look for myself when I smelled the smoke.”
Doc was already shoving past him to get to the stairs that would take him to the dental practice upstairs.
“Wait! There’s a fire up there!” the clerk shouted. But it was too late. Doc had already charged for the steps, and the clerk wasn’t foolish enough to go after him.
The moment Doc climbed the last of the stairs, he reached for the door and had to pull his arm back almost immediately as it was kicked open by someone on the other side. The girl who took appointments had her arm around an older woman who covered her mouth with a handkerchief. Neither of them seemed to see Doc until they walked straight into him.
“Oh!” the younger woman said with a start. “Is that you, Dr. Holliday?”
Doc stepped aside and started helping them down the steps. “Who else is up there?”
“Dr. Seegar was right behind me. He’s helping one of the other patients.”
“Can you make it the rest of the way?”
“Yes, Dr. Holliday. Thank you so much.”
It took a moment for Doc to realize that they were already down the stairs and within sight of the street. He made sure they were safely on their way before turning and racing back up the stairs.
Every breath he took was a painful ordeal, and Doc could already feel the blood at the back of his throat. Thanks to years of practice, he was able to hold back the coughing fit that he knew to be coming, but he knew that wouldn’t last long.
Suddenly, there was a loud thump inside the office. The moment Doc heard it, he pictured Seegar lying on the ground or burning alive. Just as he was about to storm through the door, he heard a familiar voice behind him amid the pounding of boots against wooden slats.
“You want to watch this up close and personal?” Grissom snarled as he stomped up the stairs. “That’s fine with me!”
Doc’s instincts screamed for him to draw the gun holstered under his arm. Even as his muscles started to follow through on that command, his lungs pinched in as if they were being squeezed within a ruthless grasp. It was all he could do to keep from doubling over.
Grissom took hold of Doc’s shoulder and pulled him into a gut-level uppercut. He could feel Doc’s chest folding against his fist. Lifting Doc’s head up using a handful of hair, Grissom sucked in a deep, smoke-filled breath. “Just so you know, this is all on account of that shit you pulled on Mr. Weeks. You and your Injun friend are both going to be real familiar with these here flames. In fact, he’s probably cooking inside that saloon of his right now.”
Doc could feel himself being hoisted up. As much as he wanted to do something about it, his strength was being sapped by the sheer effort of trying to hold back the coughing fit. When he gave in to it, the hacking coughs battered him from the inside like a series of punches.
“That’s it,” Grissom said. “Take it in nice and deep. You’ll be able to see your dentist friend sooner that way.”
Doc’s eyes snapped open, and he clenched his jaw shut. Although the coughs were still kicking blood into the back of his throat, he kept them to himself by forcing his lips to remain closed. Once he was able to breathe, he asked, “What . . . did you say?”
They were well inside the office now, and the air inside was greasy with smoke. Flames crept in on all sides. Grissom held his head high as if he was taking in a cool, sunny day. “Mr. Weeks don’t make idle threats. Anyone with half a brain would have known better than to embarrass him the way you did.”
Pulling in one more painful breath, Doc straightened his back and tore himself out of Grissom’s grasp. He lashed out with a fist aimed for Grissom’s chin, but caught only air as Grissom deftly moved away.
“Normally, folks tend to run for the door right about now,” Grissom said. “This ought to be fun.”
Doc didn’t hear a word Grissom said. He was too busy lunging forward to take another swing.
Grissom sidestepped that punch as well and bumped into a wall that was already covered with a growing sheet of flame. His shoulder and left arm dipped into the fire, but he only winced slightly in reaction to it. Letting out a low whistle, he pulled his arm back and looked at the blackened skin.
Compared to his face and a good deal more of his body, the fresh burns didn’t even stand out. He flexed his fingers and breathed excitedly at the pain that caused. “You got sand, Holliday,” Grissom said as he reached down to draw a hunting knife, using his burned hand. “But you still ain’t gonna make it out of here.”
The moment Doc saw the knife in Grissom’s hand, his mind cleared of everything else. His lungs were filled with pain, but he was used to that. His mouth was full of blood, and every move he made hurt like hell. He was very likely stumbling right into the jaws of death.
He was used to that, too.
Ignoring the wild look in Grissom’s eyes and the long blade in his hand, Doc reached down and plucked his father’s Colt from its holster. The draw was smooth and just quick enough to get the job done. Keeping his eye on his target, Doc shifted his hips and bent his arm just as he’d practiced.
The Colt barked once and tore a hole clean through Grissom’s side.
Fire raged around them like a storm. Smoke filled the air; creeping into nostrils and crawling into lungs as if it had a mind of its own. Now, with the gunshot still rattling through the burning office, fresh blood was dripping onto the floor.
Grissom had yet to move from his spot.
“I been burned too many times to feel much pain anymore,” Grissom said as he tossed his knife with a quick snap of his wrist. “Let’s see how well you do once the heat fries the flesh off yer bones.”
Doc turned sharply to one side so the blade could whirl past him. When he turned around, he saw Grissom draw his own pistol and calmly thumb back the hammer. Suddenly, footsteps dropped like hammers against the floor behind Doc. He’d sucked down too much smoke to tell how many were coming up behind him, and even the sight of the man in front of him was starting to get blurred and smeared by water streaming from his eyes.
Doc gritted his teeth and decided to fill his final moments with as much sound and fury as possible. Aiming at the only target he could see, Doc fired again and again. His hands went through their practiced motions even as his legs started to weaken.
As each of Doc’s bullets punched through him, Grissom jerked and danced like a fish on a hook. His own gun went off once or twice, but those rounds merely hissed into the crumbling walls. When he fell back to land in a pool of flame, Grissom still wore his twisted smile.
