Chapter 16: THE GUNSLINGER [PART FIFTEEN]

In meditation the mind finds absolute peace, the nothingness blowing away fear, anger, and hope. A world underneath the rage of dead gods, an uninterrupted hour a luxury rarely provided.

Sitting in his small corner of the bar the Gunslinger watches and listens. An operation conducted under the pressure of time, coordination first heralded by the young doctor-in-training soon joined by the various forms of recruited children. Relaying messages, collecting information, escalation to the running of small arms and munitions.

A hopeless endeavor for the people of a forgotten town; a mere activity used to fight back against the utter defeat of a situation beyond their hands.

To kill demigods with the weapons designed to fight those of flesh and faith, an impossibility for the mortals beneath the chosen of the Five Gods. Without speaking the Gunslinger plunges through memories; from first hand experiences to wisdom passed on from the avenues of historical scripture. Gun duels against Bandit Lords and false messiahs mixing with the battles between the old gods in eons long past; the creation of a legend in rank with those retold a thousand years from their origin.

Enumeration suddenly interrupted by the tug of a small hand, eyes fluttering open as they fixate on the curious gaze of the girl. Fully recovered from the previous day’s injuries, influence of forgotten magic completely removing all traces of brutality from her tiny form.

Clee speaks carefully. Ok?

Alto sighs as he glances up towards the bar, watching as Old Joe fills out a small sheet of paper as he attempts to coordinate a half-dozen runners from across Old Springs. The young man’s response is signed in silence. I’m fine.

You are going to kill tomorrow? Clee asks as innocently as possible. With… god weapon?

He takes a moment to sign the answer. Yes.

Clee blinks. Are you scared?

No. The young man replies quietly.

But you said you can not kill her. 

The Gunslinger smiles, shaking his head. You heard?

I did. 

She is powerful with her weapon. He admits. I am not certain I can bring harm to her before she harms me.

But you have… god weapon. The girl responds.

Thinking with care, Alto closes his eyes. With honesty he answers. It may not be enough.

What is enough?

The young man stares into the table for a long time before signing back. I do not know.

If she cannot know you are there can she harm you?

They leave the answer, a question left to die as Alto glances between Old Joe and the girl. Are you helping?

No. J-O-E does not want me to help, says danger.

“He’s not wrong.” The Gunslinger speaks silently. “You are a child of resulitance; precious to this world.”

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Can I help? The girl blinks.

Taking a breath the Gunslinger smiles. Sometimes it is better to not get involved. It easier to… be quiet than to make noise.

Clee narrows her eyes as she holds back emotion. But I want to help. I can help.

“Revenge hurts you more than the other.” Alto answers with cold insight. “Do not try to hurt others. Only make the world a better place, as the gods have told us to.”

Will kill her make the world better? The child asks.

The Gunslinger stares at her, an answer put forth as true as inconsistent scripture. Yes. 

A void to be filled, silence at the suddenness of such a word.

She admits it to him. I am scared now. She will kill.

Alto Carrin takes a deep breath, reaching into one of his belt’s holsters as he removes a secondary device.

The looted semi-automatic handgun from dead bandits is brought into the artificial lights of the bar; a crude, rusting form reaching out to the world from terrible actions wrought with rage and criminality.

He signs the words to her in privacy. Do you know to use gun?

A culture of the world, universal in nature. The soul defined by the roar of gunfire, children of innocent nature raised and educated with the mechanisms of death.

Currently unloaded, the offering of ordinance is given and the girl takes it.

Small, delicate hands confirm the inheritance of the safety switch, the lever placed on safe as she tugs the weapon’s slide to a half-open position. No rounds in the chamber, she pulls the thing to its full length.

Eyes observe the interior, a confirmation of relative operation as she racks the slide back to a readied position with a snap of steel. Pointing at a far wall, safety switched to live, she pulls the trigger.

A single click, the firing pin striking air as springs pull taught within the action.

The Gunslinger provides the final piece as she finishes the drill; a filled magazine of brass and lethal lead given to the young soul.

If I die. He signs to her. Protect yourself.

Clee takes the thing, eyes glazed over as she stares at the human before her.

He fails to read the emotion, something brewing deep within the child of resulitance left censored by watching gods.

She nods, a small bow.

“Goodbye Clee.” Alto closes.

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