Post by Pingu on Jul 1, 2015 4:48:06 GMT
So, this is another story that I wrote quite a while ago. It was intended to possibly be a prologue, or maybe one of those chapters you don't include in the finished book. What I'm looking for here is less feedback on how the story works and more feedback on the characters. What did you like about them? What did you hate? Where there questions left unanswered that would make you want to know more? Really feedback to give me some direction would be great. I can post up other excerpt type writing from it when I work on it. First, would like to know what people think!
Farewell.docx (29.9 KB)
Farewell
This was it, the beginning of the end.
Despite his blank faced exterior, the gambler fought an inner battle to keep his conflicting emotions at bay. Soon his heart would no longer be able to bear this emotional strain. Then again, he thought grimly, it wouldn’t need to contain them much longer. In effort to quiet this inner storm, the aging gambler began to play through each possible scenario in his head.
“Nope, not a single way this ends well,” he muttered, barely audible against the mixed sounds of conversation, whirring engines, and rushing wind on the deck of the ship.
“Come again hoss,” boomed the gravelly voice of Nate, breaking the gambler from his inner struggle and waking him to the outside world once more.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with pretty boy,” shot back the gambler with a sly grin and tip of his wide brimmed hat.
Nate’s icy blue eyes narrowed, his usually wide smiling mouth pursed tight in a grimace.
The gambler paused for a moment to admire the towering man before him. The two were different in almost every conceivable way. Where the gambler had his roguish charm, Nate had dazzling charisma. And where Nate walked a path as straight and narrow as the guns he earned his keep with, the gambler’s path was usually as shady and dubious as the card houses he’d earned his keep at. Yet, for all these polarizing difference the two had a friendship as vast as the skies they sailed.
The gambler walked right up to his concerned friend en route to the bow of the ship. Placing his gloved hand on Nate’s arm and pausing briefly, he spoke softly to the gunslinger. “This is one debt I mean to repay personally.”
The touch and gentle words disarmed the handsome sharp shooter. “You don’t need to go this
alone,” he began to reply, “Doc was my…” He cut his words short as he felt a single leather clad finger press against his lips.
“Not this time, you have other work to be doing. This time I ride solo.”
With no other words spoken the gambler strode on past his friend. He dared not look back, in fear that another look or word from Nate would shatter his resolve. He walked right up to the railing at the bow of the ship and took the entire scene in.
It was growing dark; the final pinks had left the sky showing no trace of the sun. The world looked grey to the gambler, here in the twilight before nightfall. The only lights to be seen were those were slowly starting to illuminate the city like flickering stars. A large clock face shone brightly center this man made constellation, much like the moon that would soon shine overhead.
Behind him he could hear the many members of his crew exchanging their goodbyes. Something the gambler had seen to earlier, knowing he’d want to be left in peace during these moments before there was no turning back. He glanced down; he could scarcely make out the dark spots that marked each crew member’s parachute. He strained his one good eye and counted them, confirming each had made it off the vessel safely.
Sighing audibly, he turned slowly to face the last remaining people aboard his ship. He knew that his friends wouldn’t leave as quietly as the crew. He steeled his nerves and looked upon the somber faces of the six people left in this world he cared about.
Bowing his head slightly, while mustering his best poker face, and grinned at them. He then walked down to the old wooden ships wheel that steered the airship. Placing his hands tightly on the wheel, he cleared his throat loudly. “Noah,” he barked in his captain’s voice, “I now have full control over her right?”
“Aye that you do sir,” replied a course voice from just behind the gambler.
“All the modifications I requested have been made then,” he answered back, maintaining the harshness in his tone.
“Of course,” fired back the engineer, the building rage apparent in his voice, “who do you think you’re talking to you old fool!”
The gambler spun around on his boot heel to face the ship’s engineer. He glared down at the short man. The bushy red hair of the short engineer was matted with grease and grime, his coveralls stained by years of work in the ship’s engine room. The man’s unkempt beard was singed off in many places. In fact, it appeared to the gambler to still be smoldering.
He knelt down and plucked the hot piece of coal from out of the man’s facial hair. Now face to face with his oldest friend he dropped the stern façade and broke into a smile. “Try to stay out of trouble,” he said grasping his friend firmly on the shoulder, “you hear me, you stubborn old goat.”
The short man snorted. “It shouldn’t be too difficult without you around.”
“Reckon not.”
Unexpectedly, the engineer wrapped his stubby arms around the lanky gambler. He grasped him tightly in an embrace and then pushed away. The force of the push knocked the gambler firmly on his butt. Than without another word the engineer stormed off to the edge of the ship
“You got my jacket dirty,” the gambler yelled at his short friend, mocking anger once more.
At this Noah let out a deep, heartfelt laugh and yelled, “Give ‘um hell boss.”
Not waiting for an answer, the engineer catapulted himself over the rail and off the highflying ship. The gambler wanted to leap up and make sure Noah’s chute had opened, just as he had done for the rest of the crew. Yet, he knew there was nothing to be done if it hadn’t and he still had to maintain
his composure for the rest of his friends.
“Worry not.” The gambler recognized the deep voice as belonging to Samuel. “Noah descends safely towards his crew.”
The gambler slowly rose to his feet, rubbing away the dirt from his oiled jacket. It had always unnerved the gambler the way in which the preacher seemed to know just what was on the surface of his mind.
“Shall I say a prayer for you,” stated Samuel calmly, his eyes carrying a hint of a smile the rest of his face hid.
“You know the only lady I pray to preach.”
“That I do,” the preacher answered sternly, “May she smile upon you today my child.”
At that the gambler smiled and strode over to the pious man. He took note as he did so of the teenage boy who the blind man had his arm around. “You’ll do as we agreed, right Sam?”
“I am a man of my word.”
“Good, the boy deserves an honest education.”
“Hey, you and the doc brought me up as good as anyone could’ve after what happened in Gearbox,” the scrappy boy retorted, his eyes filled with tears.
“That was mostly Doc’s doing,” replied the gambler, messing the boys sandy hair as he did so, “Now mind Sam and do what you’re told.”
The boy looked at the gambler, unconvinced by his words. “I’m grown enough to make my own choices.”
The gambler thought quickly while eyeing the boy and the blind preacher. “Well, I owe Sam a huge debt and won’t be able to repay it. As you know, a gambler should always find a way to pay w
hat he owes,” the gambler told the boy, “so I figure since you owe me, for raising you and all, you’d pay me back by taking care of him for me.”
The boy eyed the grey haired gambler suspiciously and then asked the preacher, “this true?”
“I swear to it,” the preacher replied, grasping the teen close to him.
The gambler could tell that the boy wasn’t quiet convinced, but sensed he was on the cusp. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an ancient looking coin. He rolled it between his fingers a few times, the familiar feel bringing a sly smirk to his lips. Without warning he flips it to the boy, who catches it.
“Seriously,” the boy asked, astonished.
“Yup, she’s all for your now. Treat her well and she’ll repay the favor.”
The boy doesn’t say another word; he just clutches the coin close to his chest and weeps. The gambler feels the tears begin to well up behind his eye, and wills them back. Can’t let the kid see me cry, he thinks. The gambler is brought back from his thoughts once more by Nate, who grasps his shoulder.
“We’re minutes away from the city,” Nate states, the sadness evident in his voice, “The three of us need to be going.”
The gambler looks to the gunslinger, seeing a sight he’d never seen before, tears in the man’s eyes. He watches astonished as the broad shouldered man leads the blind preacher and boy over to the ship’s lone lifeboat. As Nate and the boy start to detach the small air balloon from the larger airship, the gambler notices the left holster of the gunslinger’s belt is empty.
Looking around, he spots the six shooter on the steering column of the ship. Confused, the gambler calls out, “hey you forgot your gun.”
“Naw,” Nate calls back, his tear streaked face smiling broadly, “if I didn’t at least try to go with you, Doc would have my hide.”
The gambler watches as the balloon slowly falls behind the larger vessel. He watches until he can barely make out their faces in the short dim bursts of the balloons flame. When they are beyond his vision he turns and returns to the steering wheel.
The two remaining passengers stand silently as the gambler begins the airships decent from high altitude into the heart of the city below. They feel the wind whip around them as the vessel increases steadily in speed towards her final destination. Locking everything into place the gambler turns to take care of his final farewells.
“Nadine,” the gambler speaks swiftly, knowing his time is limited, “you’re clear on the plan right?”
“Affirmative,” Nadine confirms, as she ties her long white hair back.
“Oh, don’t be like that missy.”
Nadine sighs, dropping her military demeanor. “I know what Doc meant to you, meant to all of us really, but there has to be another way.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then close your eyes.”
“You mean eye.”
“Really,” she sighs.
“Okay, okay,” he replies laughing as he closes his eye.
The exotic woman wraps her arms tightly around the gambler. He can feel the mechanical workings of her right arm pressed into his body, but he deals with the discomfort. Then he feels her lips
pressed tightly against his, her warm breath as she pulls away from his lips but keeps her face close. Then he feels her grip loosen, allowing air to return to his lungs.
“Nadine, I…”
“No more words,” she says as she turns and heads towards the ships edge, “finish the mission safe and we’ll talk more tomorrow at the rendezvous.”
With that a steel cable rips through the sleeve of her jacket and pierces the chest of a cherub statue adorning a tall building the ship passes. Seconds later Nadine is ripped free of the speeding ship and left hanging from the building.
“None of them know, do they,” comes a voice from the hooded man left aboard with the gambler.
“No. It’s better this way.”
The man nods and approaches the gambler, dropping his hood as he does. In all ways he looks unremarkable, save for his eyes. The gambler shudders as he looks into the serpentine slit eyes of the assassin.
“You knew what I was,” the snake eyed man hisses, “yet still I see you fear it.”
“I don’t fear you Joe; those eyes just always give me the creeps, can’t help it.”
“I’ll never understand you,” Josiah says, his tongue splitting, “but I think I understand what she saw in you.”
“Watch it,” the gambler joked, “you’re risking becoming nice.”
The serpentine man just studied the gambler, showing no hint of amusement. Slowly he extended his hand toward the gambler. “They’ll want proof.”
The gambler pulled back his eye patch, revealing the eye sized pearl he kept hidden in the
vacant socket of his head. He pulled the object free of his face and dropped it into Josiah’s slender hands. He then returned the leather patch over the now empty socket.
“Won’t they be able to know you didn’t actually do the deed?”
“About that,” Josiah replied as he lunged at the gambler, sinking his teeth into the man’s neck.
Two tiny needles, hidden just behind the canine teeth, pierced the soft flesh of the man’s neck. The gambler felt his body grow warm as the venom coursed through his veins. Though he knew the venom would prove fatal, he could feel his reflexes sharpen, his body numb to pain, and his mind was working quicker than ever before.
“Was that necessary?”
“Consider a gift.”
“I wouldn’t call your deadly hickey a gift.”
“No,” the snakelike man hissed, “I meant the antidote I slipped into your pocket.”
“Why’d you do that, I mean the chances of my survival aren’t exactly reassuring”
“Let’s just say I’ve come to appreciate your knack for getting lucky.”
“See Joe, I told you you’re getting to be a nice guy.”
“Guess she rubbed off on me some.”
The gambler smiled as he watched his last friend leap from the boat. He even whistled as he watched the acrobatic way in which Josiah tuck and rolled onto the building below and quickly sprung to his feet at a dead sprint.
“Well it’s just you and me now Hera,” the gambler spoke patting the wheel of his ship, “looks like this will be our final ride together.”
The gambler made some adjustments, and squared the nose of the ship up with the center of the
clock center of the town. He knew that none of the town’s citizens would ever know what he and his friends had done. That the clock housed a factory dedicated to building weapons that would shatter the country, and bring war to the world.
Smiling to himself he grabbed Nate’s gun off the console with one hand and used the other to unfasten the buttons of his coat. He strode to the very tip of his ship, not even bothering to pause as the wind ripped his hat from the top of his head. He stood there, his grey hair and long coat tails billowing in the wind and pulled out the gold plated pistol. He smiled when he saw the etching on the gun that read, “Luck.” He took careful aim at the clock face.
He wished she could see him now; he must look like some hero in the stories. In fact he felt good, like his life had had some purpose. He used his free hand to open the locket around his neck, inside a picture of the woman he had loved. “I wanted you to see this with me Moll,” he spoke to the locket, “and I wanted you to know they’re all safe. I wonder what the odds are we’ll see each other on the other side.”
He looked up, defiant smile on his face, and waited for the inevitable conclusion.
They watched from a safe distance in their balloon as the moonlike face of the clock tower vanished from view in a ball of flame. The three had been in silence ever sense they’d departed Hera. The sudden destruction of the clock tower had broken them from their dreamlike state.
“He’ll be okay won’t he,” the child asked, fear running rampant in his voice.
“Yes, child,” the preacher soothed, “that one has the devil’s own luck.”
“Luck is a fickle mistress,” the boy retorted, “he always was clear on that.”
“That she is,” the gunslinger said with a genuine smile, “and as he would often say to me, that’s why we stack the deck.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You have that coin he gave you?”
The boy nodded and pulled his hands away from his chest, “Why?”
“Take a good look at it.”
The boy looked hard at the coin; he saw the ancient image of some forgotten king on its face. “I still don’t understand.”
“Flip it around.”
The boy did and he gasped at what he saw. The reverse side of the gambler’s favorite coin, one he flipped for everything, mirrored the face. The same ancient king looked back at him. The boy was comforted by this fact and begun to spin the finger through his fingers, the way he’d been taught as a boy.
Farewell.docx (29.9 KB)
Farewell
This was it, the beginning of the end.
Despite his blank faced exterior, the gambler fought an inner battle to keep his conflicting emotions at bay. Soon his heart would no longer be able to bear this emotional strain. Then again, he thought grimly, it wouldn’t need to contain them much longer. In effort to quiet this inner storm, the aging gambler began to play through each possible scenario in his head.
“Nope, not a single way this ends well,” he muttered, barely audible against the mixed sounds of conversation, whirring engines, and rushing wind on the deck of the ship.
“Come again hoss,” boomed the gravelly voice of Nate, breaking the gambler from his inner struggle and waking him to the outside world once more.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with pretty boy,” shot back the gambler with a sly grin and tip of his wide brimmed hat.
Nate’s icy blue eyes narrowed, his usually wide smiling mouth pursed tight in a grimace.
The gambler paused for a moment to admire the towering man before him. The two were different in almost every conceivable way. Where the gambler had his roguish charm, Nate had dazzling charisma. And where Nate walked a path as straight and narrow as the guns he earned his keep with, the gambler’s path was usually as shady and dubious as the card houses he’d earned his keep at. Yet, for all these polarizing difference the two had a friendship as vast as the skies they sailed.
The gambler walked right up to his concerned friend en route to the bow of the ship. Placing his gloved hand on Nate’s arm and pausing briefly, he spoke softly to the gunslinger. “This is one debt I mean to repay personally.”
The touch and gentle words disarmed the handsome sharp shooter. “You don’t need to go this
alone,” he began to reply, “Doc was my…” He cut his words short as he felt a single leather clad finger press against his lips.
“Not this time, you have other work to be doing. This time I ride solo.”
With no other words spoken the gambler strode on past his friend. He dared not look back, in fear that another look or word from Nate would shatter his resolve. He walked right up to the railing at the bow of the ship and took the entire scene in.
It was growing dark; the final pinks had left the sky showing no trace of the sun. The world looked grey to the gambler, here in the twilight before nightfall. The only lights to be seen were those were slowly starting to illuminate the city like flickering stars. A large clock face shone brightly center this man made constellation, much like the moon that would soon shine overhead.
Behind him he could hear the many members of his crew exchanging their goodbyes. Something the gambler had seen to earlier, knowing he’d want to be left in peace during these moments before there was no turning back. He glanced down; he could scarcely make out the dark spots that marked each crew member’s parachute. He strained his one good eye and counted them, confirming each had made it off the vessel safely.
Sighing audibly, he turned slowly to face the last remaining people aboard his ship. He knew that his friends wouldn’t leave as quietly as the crew. He steeled his nerves and looked upon the somber faces of the six people left in this world he cared about.
Bowing his head slightly, while mustering his best poker face, and grinned at them. He then walked down to the old wooden ships wheel that steered the airship. Placing his hands tightly on the wheel, he cleared his throat loudly. “Noah,” he barked in his captain’s voice, “I now have full control over her right?”
“Aye that you do sir,” replied a course voice from just behind the gambler.
“All the modifications I requested have been made then,” he answered back, maintaining the harshness in his tone.
“Of course,” fired back the engineer, the building rage apparent in his voice, “who do you think you’re talking to you old fool!”
The gambler spun around on his boot heel to face the ship’s engineer. He glared down at the short man. The bushy red hair of the short engineer was matted with grease and grime, his coveralls stained by years of work in the ship’s engine room. The man’s unkempt beard was singed off in many places. In fact, it appeared to the gambler to still be smoldering.
He knelt down and plucked the hot piece of coal from out of the man’s facial hair. Now face to face with his oldest friend he dropped the stern façade and broke into a smile. “Try to stay out of trouble,” he said grasping his friend firmly on the shoulder, “you hear me, you stubborn old goat.”
The short man snorted. “It shouldn’t be too difficult without you around.”
“Reckon not.”
Unexpectedly, the engineer wrapped his stubby arms around the lanky gambler. He grasped him tightly in an embrace and then pushed away. The force of the push knocked the gambler firmly on his butt. Than without another word the engineer stormed off to the edge of the ship
“You got my jacket dirty,” the gambler yelled at his short friend, mocking anger once more.
At this Noah let out a deep, heartfelt laugh and yelled, “Give ‘um hell boss.”
Not waiting for an answer, the engineer catapulted himself over the rail and off the highflying ship. The gambler wanted to leap up and make sure Noah’s chute had opened, just as he had done for the rest of the crew. Yet, he knew there was nothing to be done if it hadn’t and he still had to maintain
his composure for the rest of his friends.
“Worry not.” The gambler recognized the deep voice as belonging to Samuel. “Noah descends safely towards his crew.”
The gambler slowly rose to his feet, rubbing away the dirt from his oiled jacket. It had always unnerved the gambler the way in which the preacher seemed to know just what was on the surface of his mind.
“Shall I say a prayer for you,” stated Samuel calmly, his eyes carrying a hint of a smile the rest of his face hid.
“You know the only lady I pray to preach.”
“That I do,” the preacher answered sternly, “May she smile upon you today my child.”
At that the gambler smiled and strode over to the pious man. He took note as he did so of the teenage boy who the blind man had his arm around. “You’ll do as we agreed, right Sam?”
“I am a man of my word.”
“Good, the boy deserves an honest education.”
“Hey, you and the doc brought me up as good as anyone could’ve after what happened in Gearbox,” the scrappy boy retorted, his eyes filled with tears.
“That was mostly Doc’s doing,” replied the gambler, messing the boys sandy hair as he did so, “Now mind Sam and do what you’re told.”
The boy looked at the gambler, unconvinced by his words. “I’m grown enough to make my own choices.”
The gambler thought quickly while eyeing the boy and the blind preacher. “Well, I owe Sam a huge debt and won’t be able to repay it. As you know, a gambler should always find a way to pay w
hat he owes,” the gambler told the boy, “so I figure since you owe me, for raising you and all, you’d pay me back by taking care of him for me.”
The boy eyed the grey haired gambler suspiciously and then asked the preacher, “this true?”
“I swear to it,” the preacher replied, grasping the teen close to him.
The gambler could tell that the boy wasn’t quiet convinced, but sensed he was on the cusp. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an ancient looking coin. He rolled it between his fingers a few times, the familiar feel bringing a sly smirk to his lips. Without warning he flips it to the boy, who catches it.
“Seriously,” the boy asked, astonished.
“Yup, she’s all for your now. Treat her well and she’ll repay the favor.”
The boy doesn’t say another word; he just clutches the coin close to his chest and weeps. The gambler feels the tears begin to well up behind his eye, and wills them back. Can’t let the kid see me cry, he thinks. The gambler is brought back from his thoughts once more by Nate, who grasps his shoulder.
“We’re minutes away from the city,” Nate states, the sadness evident in his voice, “The three of us need to be going.”
The gambler looks to the gunslinger, seeing a sight he’d never seen before, tears in the man’s eyes. He watches astonished as the broad shouldered man leads the blind preacher and boy over to the ship’s lone lifeboat. As Nate and the boy start to detach the small air balloon from the larger airship, the gambler notices the left holster of the gunslinger’s belt is empty.
Looking around, he spots the six shooter on the steering column of the ship. Confused, the gambler calls out, “hey you forgot your gun.”
“Naw,” Nate calls back, his tear streaked face smiling broadly, “if I didn’t at least try to go with you, Doc would have my hide.”
The gambler watches as the balloon slowly falls behind the larger vessel. He watches until he can barely make out their faces in the short dim bursts of the balloons flame. When they are beyond his vision he turns and returns to the steering wheel.
The two remaining passengers stand silently as the gambler begins the airships decent from high altitude into the heart of the city below. They feel the wind whip around them as the vessel increases steadily in speed towards her final destination. Locking everything into place the gambler turns to take care of his final farewells.
“Nadine,” the gambler speaks swiftly, knowing his time is limited, “you’re clear on the plan right?”
“Affirmative,” Nadine confirms, as she ties her long white hair back.
“Oh, don’t be like that missy.”
Nadine sighs, dropping her military demeanor. “I know what Doc meant to you, meant to all of us really, but there has to be another way.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then close your eyes.”
“You mean eye.”
“Really,” she sighs.
“Okay, okay,” he replies laughing as he closes his eye.
The exotic woman wraps her arms tightly around the gambler. He can feel the mechanical workings of her right arm pressed into his body, but he deals with the discomfort. Then he feels her lips
pressed tightly against his, her warm breath as she pulls away from his lips but keeps her face close. Then he feels her grip loosen, allowing air to return to his lungs.
“Nadine, I…”
“No more words,” she says as she turns and heads towards the ships edge, “finish the mission safe and we’ll talk more tomorrow at the rendezvous.”
With that a steel cable rips through the sleeve of her jacket and pierces the chest of a cherub statue adorning a tall building the ship passes. Seconds later Nadine is ripped free of the speeding ship and left hanging from the building.
“None of them know, do they,” comes a voice from the hooded man left aboard with the gambler.
“No. It’s better this way.”
The man nods and approaches the gambler, dropping his hood as he does. In all ways he looks unremarkable, save for his eyes. The gambler shudders as he looks into the serpentine slit eyes of the assassin.
“You knew what I was,” the snake eyed man hisses, “yet still I see you fear it.”
“I don’t fear you Joe; those eyes just always give me the creeps, can’t help it.”
“I’ll never understand you,” Josiah says, his tongue splitting, “but I think I understand what she saw in you.”
“Watch it,” the gambler joked, “you’re risking becoming nice.”
The serpentine man just studied the gambler, showing no hint of amusement. Slowly he extended his hand toward the gambler. “They’ll want proof.”
The gambler pulled back his eye patch, revealing the eye sized pearl he kept hidden in the
vacant socket of his head. He pulled the object free of his face and dropped it into Josiah’s slender hands. He then returned the leather patch over the now empty socket.
“Won’t they be able to know you didn’t actually do the deed?”
“About that,” Josiah replied as he lunged at the gambler, sinking his teeth into the man’s neck.
Two tiny needles, hidden just behind the canine teeth, pierced the soft flesh of the man’s neck. The gambler felt his body grow warm as the venom coursed through his veins. Though he knew the venom would prove fatal, he could feel his reflexes sharpen, his body numb to pain, and his mind was working quicker than ever before.
“Was that necessary?”
“Consider a gift.”
“I wouldn’t call your deadly hickey a gift.”
“No,” the snakelike man hissed, “I meant the antidote I slipped into your pocket.”
“Why’d you do that, I mean the chances of my survival aren’t exactly reassuring”
“Let’s just say I’ve come to appreciate your knack for getting lucky.”
“See Joe, I told you you’re getting to be a nice guy.”
“Guess she rubbed off on me some.”
The gambler smiled as he watched his last friend leap from the boat. He even whistled as he watched the acrobatic way in which Josiah tuck and rolled onto the building below and quickly sprung to his feet at a dead sprint.
“Well it’s just you and me now Hera,” the gambler spoke patting the wheel of his ship, “looks like this will be our final ride together.”
The gambler made some adjustments, and squared the nose of the ship up with the center of the
clock center of the town. He knew that none of the town’s citizens would ever know what he and his friends had done. That the clock housed a factory dedicated to building weapons that would shatter the country, and bring war to the world.
Smiling to himself he grabbed Nate’s gun off the console with one hand and used the other to unfasten the buttons of his coat. He strode to the very tip of his ship, not even bothering to pause as the wind ripped his hat from the top of his head. He stood there, his grey hair and long coat tails billowing in the wind and pulled out the gold plated pistol. He smiled when he saw the etching on the gun that read, “Luck.” He took careful aim at the clock face.
He wished she could see him now; he must look like some hero in the stories. In fact he felt good, like his life had had some purpose. He used his free hand to open the locket around his neck, inside a picture of the woman he had loved. “I wanted you to see this with me Moll,” he spoke to the locket, “and I wanted you to know they’re all safe. I wonder what the odds are we’ll see each other on the other side.”
He looked up, defiant smile on his face, and waited for the inevitable conclusion.
They watched from a safe distance in their balloon as the moonlike face of the clock tower vanished from view in a ball of flame. The three had been in silence ever sense they’d departed Hera. The sudden destruction of the clock tower had broken them from their dreamlike state.
“He’ll be okay won’t he,” the child asked, fear running rampant in his voice.
“Yes, child,” the preacher soothed, “that one has the devil’s own luck.”
“Luck is a fickle mistress,” the boy retorted, “he always was clear on that.”
“That she is,” the gunslinger said with a genuine smile, “and as he would often say to me, that’s why we stack the deck.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You have that coin he gave you?”
The boy nodded and pulled his hands away from his chest, “Why?”
“Take a good look at it.”
The boy looked hard at the coin; he saw the ancient image of some forgotten king on its face. “I still don’t understand.”
“Flip it around.”
The boy did and he gasped at what he saw. The reverse side of the gambler’s favorite coin, one he flipped for everything, mirrored the face. The same ancient king looked back at him. The boy was comforted by this fact and begun to spin the finger through his fingers, the way he’d been taught as a boy.
