James Axler – Gemini Rising

Which meant a brutal recoil, and he made a mental note to fire the cannon with both hands or else he wouldn’t hit anything but sky.

But even with that minor flaw, it sure as shit was better than his old .22 zip gun. As a child, Daffer once saw a big miner from the Kentuck coalfields take six .22 bullets straight in the chest from a coldheart, and the miner still managed to kill the manmuch to the surprise of both of them. The miner lived for years afterward and finally died due to injuries sustained in a big mutie attack in another hamlet. But Daffer would never forget how the big man took half a dozen of the little bullets in the chest and still survived. It wasn’t a lesson easily forgotten.

There came a soft knock on the door.

Standing, Daffer lifted the oil lantern in one hand and the massive .44 Webley in the other. Standing behind the light would make it difficult for others to clearly see him.

“Who is it?” he asked gruffly. Strangers in the night were always trouble. His first impulse was to put a round through the door, but he wasn’t sure if even the big-bore .44 could punch through the predark steel.

“Mildred,” said a woman’s muffled voice.

He started forward happily, then stopped. “Prove it.”

There was a short pause. “Ryan called you Armsman in the cabin.”

“Damn right he did!” Daffer replied, walking over to throw the two big bolts and pull open the door. Mildred entered quickly, carrying a heavily wrapped bundle in her arms.

Daffer spied a flatbed truck outside that seemed familiar. That Kentuck hunter was behind the wheel. The man nodded at Daffer, and he did the same in reply before closing the door again.

“Sorry about asking, but a man’s got to be careful these days,” he said, sliding the bolt into place. “I heard that lots of folks answered the door and were never heard of again.”

Mildred was already across the room, placing her bundle in his lumpy bed. She fussed with the covers before facing him.

“I know,” Mildred said. “We found most of them.”

“Don’t sound good,” he stated.

The physician went to the table and poured herself a shot of red ‘shine. She drank it with pause and slammed the plastic tumbler onto the table. “It wasn’t,” she answered.

“Another?” he offered.

“No, thank you,” Mildred said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “But by God, I surely needed that one. And we need your help.”

Tucking the blaster into his loose belt, Daffer kicked a chair toward her and sat at the table, pouring himself a small dose of ‘shine. “What’s the problem?”

“Overton,” the physician spit, as if the name were a curse word.

He nodded. “I understand. Who’s in the blankets?”

“Tabitha.”

His eyes went wide. “The baron’s wife? Sweet Jesus, she’s still alive?”

“Yes, and carrying.”

Glancing at the woman in his bed, Daffer grinned with happiness. “A kid? Nathan has an heir to follow him? Hot damn, that’s great” The grin faded into a dark scowl. “That’s why he didn’t fight Overton. The scum-sucker had his wife and babe hostage.”

“Worse, a lot worse than that,” Mildred said.

Daffer raised a hand. “Don’t want to hear. Only cloud me with anger when straight thinking is needed.”

Mildred regarded the man with new respect. Nathan chose his security chiefs well.

“What do you need?” he asked, pushing the drink away. The lantern shone through the ‘shine, casting red lights across the man as if he were painted with blood.

“Hide her until the fighting is over.”

“Because you’re going to be much too busy to care for a pregnant woman, eh? Consider it done.”

“And this is for you,” she added, laying a long wad of cloth on the table.

He frowned. “You saved my life back there. Don’t want no payment, won’t take no payment. I owe you. Besides, Nathan be the best baron we ever had.”

“Fair enough.” She touched the wrapped item. “But this isn’t payment. It’s a loan to help you do the job.”

Curiously, Daffer unwrapped the layers of cloth and recoiled when the AK-47 assault rifle came into view.