J.B., still clutching his fedora, struck out for the bank, hauling himself up with the help of the one-eyed man’s outstretched hand. As his right leg hit the bank, no longer supported by the water’s buoyancy, he felt a sharpness as pain seared through the muscle and the leg buckled beneath him.
“Fuck, that stings,” he hissed. “I figured the bastard caught me as I hit the water. My own fault. Should have heard him coming before, but—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Krysty said, joining Ryan in helping support J.B. as he took his. weight off the damaged leg. “You need to get that dressed as soon as possible. We’ll have to get back to the ville.”
“If we can. They might have other ideas,” Ryan added, indicating the men gathered around the companions and the prone attacker.
As they approached, they could hear Elias trying to reason with the crowd.
“You do not have the ears of the deaf. You heard the shot for yourselves, and now one of the pale ones is missing, while we find this man with a blaster in his hands.”
“Where is this missing man?” one of the crowd demanded.
“Here,” J.B. yelled, “and that bastard shot was good enough to hurt.”
Jak and Elias turned to see the Armorer hobble back toward them with the help of Ryan and Krysty. A brief smile flickered across the albino’s face. It was soon erased by the words of the crowd.
“They chill one of ours, why shouldn’t they pay?”
Elias shook his head. “That is not right. You heard me say that I was with them when that murder occurred. Do you still not believe me? Truly, you have worse heads than the boar you closely resemble in temper.”
“John Barrymore, it is a relief to see you. I feared that perhaps we had lost you when there was no sign.”
“Just keeping my head down, Doc,” the Armorer deadpanned.
“I don’t want to spoil the moment, but I figure we’d better get J.B.’s leg looked at as soon as possible,” Ryan broke in. “We need to get back to the ville, and take him with us,” he added, indicating the man still being held down by Dean and Doc.
“Why should you have any help when our people are left to buy the farm?” asked one of the crowd, a hard-faced man whose eyes were alive with hate. “One of our people is chilled by a weapon of yours, and our ville is in the hands of one who allows herself to be defiled by you. It is a pity that he did not drown.”
Ryan felt J.B. stiffen at this reference to himself and Mildred, and stayed his friend with an increase of pressure in his grip on the Armorer’s shoulder. “Easy, J.B. Don’t let him rile you,” he whispered.
Elias spit on the ground in front of him with contempt. “Is that all you can think of, when we are at a crucial moment in the history of our people? You should be left here to rot when the rest of us move on.” He turned and took the Glock from where it lay on the ground, then swung around to face the group in front of him. “I will carry this blaster, so that even you cannot protest about the weapon being in the hands of the pale ones. We will leave now and head back to the ville. You—” he inclined his head briefly to the man on the ground “—will come with us, and if you try to escape I will blast you myself. Come, let us go.”
As Elias leveled the blaster at them, the crowd of disgruntled Pilatans moved back to allow the companions and their captive to pass through. Dean had the Pilatan captive’s arm up behind him in a hammerlock, with Doc at his side, one of Jak’s knives in the older man’s grasp, poised for the captive’s ribs to strike if necessary. Jak led the way, and behind Dean, Doc and the captive came J.B., supported by Ryan and Krysty. The Armorer gritted his teeth and tried to put as much weight as possible on his leg to save the energy of the duo who supported him—there was some way to go before they reached the ville. The wound, which stretched from his thigh up to his hip, was still bleeding, and he could feel his leg starting to stiffen. It wasn’t deep, but this was partly why the wound refused to stop bleeding, despite the effort Krysty had made to pack it to staunch the flow.