TOO  QUICK  TO  DIE

PART THIRTY-ONE:

Maximus and Caroline had followed Bud to the stables where he had the computer and communications access to NanoCorp.  "You can talk to Terry?" Caroline asked hopefully, finding the thought of hearing voices from the real world suddenly very comforting.

Bud flipped open the laptop and showed them both the controls and commands to upload the link.  “That’s Chuck,” he informed them both when they were greeted by a voice at the other end of the line.  “Say hello, Chuck.”

“Hello, Chuck,” came the voice at the other end of the line.  “Please don’t make this another bitch session, Bud.  I’ve been living off Starbucks coffee and protein bars for the last three days and I’m a bit punchy myself.  I am a man on the edge.  Wait...Terry’s right here.”

Bud smirked somewhat, since his next question was going to be where the man was. 

“Don’t ask you where the joy is, right, mate?” came the Aussie’s voice, sounding a bit more gravelly than usual. 

"Hello, Terry," Maximus said. "I do not know of this joy myself, but I would like the where-abouts of the 3rd Legion if you could send them in."

Caroline couldn't help herself.  She snorted.

“Maximus!”  Terry sounded elated.  “Good to hear your voice.  I understand you took a bit ill unexpectedly.”

"He had help," Caroline interrupted.  "Good God, Terry, where's the cavalry?"

Back in the warp room, Terry sat back in his chair, toggling off the speaker for a brief few moments to exhale a breath and collect his thoughts.  The ‘cavalry,’ so to speak, was at that moment hunched over hemoglobin and nanobytes, doing God only knew what with those things they had already tried and failed; but it was all in a manner of hope, a final hope for something Sid did not take into account.  Not relaying this across the cyber-void, though, was a precaution he was unwilling to give up. 

“The cavalry is saddling up their horses as we speak,” Terry finally replied, gently.  He had heard the anger in Caroline’s voice and knew she was, like the rest, approaching a breaking point, but they had to hold on just a bit further. “That’s all I can give you right now...at least

as far as information.”

"That is not much information," Maximus said seriously, having no way to grasp Terry's caution about speaking freely. "Sid is becoming steadily more dangerous, more openly hostile to everyone. We have two major events to deal with today and nothing is settled yet about how to do that."  He was, in fact, becoming rather agitated by the lack of planning.  Cort would face Ellen in the street this afternoon and that night Ratsy would break his hand.  Neither of those events could be allowed to proceed as they had in the film.  He turned angrily away from the computer.  "Something must be done!" he snapped at Bud.  "This is intolerable!"

Terry wiped his face, having heard Maximus.  No one more than he could empathize with his team and their situation, but losing tempers at this time wasn’t going to help.  He felt Deidre’s hand slide onto his shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze, and he got a strong flashback of days spent in ‘Gladiator’ agonizing over a similar helplessness, all dependent upon Sid’s good – or bad – humor.  There, too, they had been trapped and it had been up to him to try and figure

a way out.

Why did we have rules about going in at the end of a movie?  Oh yeah.  So we wouldn’t have shit like this!

“Have you had a chance to talk to Cort or Rachel?”  He asked, his measured tone belying his own roil of frustration within.

"Yes," both Maximus and Caroline answered at the same time.

"Rachel's going to have that baby any minute!" Caroline went on. "Terry, I don't think you realize just how desperate everything's gotten here. You...." She bit her lip. Words were not enough to express how she was feeling.

Terry felt, rather than heard, Deidre step away from him, to pace momentarily in a fit of pique of her own, but he clamped his jaws together, biting back a retort of what he himself did or did not realize.

“Bud has his plan to carry out and so do we,” he said, tightly.  He sought his mind briefly for something more encouraging to say, but failed.  Again.  “He has the equipment necessary to protect them a bit longer.  I suggest you help him.  That is all I have right now.”  With that, he toggled off and left the chair.

Deidre was in the hallway, leaning against the wall and chewing on a strand of hair.  Their eyes met when Terry stalked into the hallway, he pausing just barely enough to acknowledge that she was there, and striding down the hall towards the laboratory.  She followed him until the man suddenly paused a bit, turning to look back where the warp room was, obviously perturbed beyond logic over the situation.

“You’re doing the best you can,” Deidre said, hurriedly.  “They’re just upset.  We all are.”

Terry nodded.  With the failure of the vaccine, it had been made abundantly clear that something in the programming of the warp had sealed off any ability for the others to warp out as well.  Any and all who had gone in were now effectively contained within the film and would be until Sid had wreaked his damage.

This was like Gladiator...only inside out.  What was worse, an innocent life was at stake.

“I can’t say anything,” he told her, helplessness creeping into his voice.

“I know,” Deidre agreed.  “But they can’t do anything.”

 

“Do you still want to go in?”  He asked, cheeks slightly flushed.  “It may come to that, if Dana doesn’t get finished soon.”  He began laughing somewhat, out of a sense of sheer futility, to keep other emotions from taking over. 

“I’ve never been a cavalry before, but if you ask me to, I’ll gallop like a herd of mustangs to help,” Deidre replied, not caring how corny she sounded.  She took his hand and pulled him along to the lab.  “Dana should be ready by now.”

"He's gone?" Caroline blurted, astonished. "He's GONE? He just...left?"  She looked in helpless fury from Maximus to Bud.  "John Wayne he ain't!"

"Truly, it does not appear that much help will be coming in from the outside, Bud. What can I do to help you? What do you need me to do now?"

Bud pursed his lips, himself a bit shocked by Terry’s abruptness, but took in Maximus’ and Caroline’s words with a surge of protectiveness.  Considering the last few times he had called to bitch at ‘mission control,’ Bud understood Terry’s reluctance to jump full bore into a response.   Closing down the laptop, he stood to collect his own thoughts, finding himself in the unexpected position of sounding out reason and calm.

“When Terry says he’s working on it, he’s working on it,” he told them, defending the Aussie.  “Look...I need to tell you...there’s an additional person that has been brought on to help, someone we’ve worked with before, who just might be the cavalry that we want.  Her name is Dana Scully, an FBI agent, and she’s had...prior experience with us.  If Terry has put her to work where I think he has, that may be why he’s holding out.” 

"Well, I hope so, Bud," Caroline replied. "I know you know Terry better than we do, so I guess we'll have to go with that. Still, it's not much to hang onto."

Maximus had been studying Bud's face as the cop spoke. He actually felt a little encouraged by the man's defensiveness of Terry. "You feel that some help may be coming?" he asked. "Something different from anything that has been tried up to now, possibly from this woman you mentioned?"

“That’s my feeling,” Bud replied, in short.  “The same rules apply with this that applied when we were trying to beat Sid at his game in Emerald City.  That,” he pointed to the laptop, “transmits an awful lot of information about us and what we’re doing.  Terry’s not taking any chances, so I have to trust that what he’s doing is going to be revealed to us sooner or later.  As for this afternoon, you’re right, Caroline, we have to do something about the gunfight.  Maybe if we talk to Cort...”

Cort, at that moment, was sitting on the edge of the plank walk, staring seriously at Ellen, wondering how in the world to handle the matter of the gunfight between them since, well, since they hadn't had any intimate time like they'd experienced in the movie. He knew well and good that she felt totally differently toward him this time, especially since he had a pregnant wife with him.

"Look, Ellen," he said, blowing out a long breath. "I know it's not me you particularly want to shoot."

She merely cocked an eyebrow at him and sat down on the steps about 5 feet to his left. "Yeah, what of it?"

"What of it is that I don't want to shoot you, either."

"Doesn't seem there's any way out of it," she replied, looking at Herod's house. "You're pretty fast. But maybe I can take you. Guess we'll see."

"We don't have to, Ellen, not if you don't want to."

"And just how would that be?"

He licked his lips. Everything, absolutely everything was so different from what he knew. "You know the old Doc?"

She looked at him suspiciously, not wanting to admit that.

"It's ok, Ellen. I know he's been in these parts for years." His eyes met hers straight on. "I know about your father."

Her jaw jutted out, eyes narrowing. "No way you could know about that, Mister. No way."

He sighed, fishing desperately for words. "No matter how, Ellen, the thing is something's got to be done about this fight of ours. I have no desire to kill you."

She stared at him, her eyes hard. "Can't say the same."

"Ellen, I'm telling you right up front. If we fight, you're dead. That's just the fact of it. And we don't need to go down that road."

"You got some other road in mind, Preacher?"

"We both want the same thing. Si...Herod's got to be stopped."

"He your brother?"

"Why would you ask that?"  He was genuinely startled.

"You look a lot like him."

"No, he's not my brother, Ellen. He's not related to me at all, thank God."

"Not sure I believe that, Mister. Couple other guys I've seen hanging around town look like him, too. Damn man probably has his whole family lurking about."

He hadn't thought anybody would notice somehow. No one else had seemed to. "He's not my kin," he repeated. "I swear."

"Swearin' from the likes of you don't mean much."

"It's true nonetheless. I hate the man."

"Seen him lookin' at your wife from time to time. Kinda like he wants something from her."

"He does. He wants my baby."

Her eyes opened wide at that. "The baby? Why would he want your baby, for God's sake?"

"Long story. He lost his. He wants mine. It's why I've got to stop him, Ellen." He looked at her with earnest eyes.

"Ok. So what about this fight, then?"

"Would you be willing to fake it?"

"Fake it? What do you mean?"

It was so much easier when she'd come up with the plan herself.  "I mean Benjamin, the blind boy. He's got red ink."

"Ink? What would you need with ink?"

"Blood, Ellen. It would look like blood."

"Whose blood?"

"Yours."  Of course Sid would know it wasn't real blood, but the townsfolk wouldn't. Maybe he could still just get past this fight, get on with what needed to be done, if they went ahead with this same plan. Maybe Sid would let it go down like it had before. All he could do right now was try.

"You want to pretend to shoot me?"

He nodded. "The Doc could pronounce you dead. Nobody would check."

"What then?"

"Then we'll have to see about tomorrow."

"Might work."

"Will you talk to the boy...and the Doc?"

She stood up. "I'm still not sure why you're doing this. But, yeah, I'll talk to 'em."

..............................................................................................

She’d had a harder time than usual getting out of bed that morning; in fact, when she was finally able to pull herself to a standing position by way of the footboard of the bed, Rachel quite distinctly felt Hope ‘settle’ even further into the pelvic socket.  She knew by now the baby had turned head down because there was the ever-present kick-kick-kick into her diaphragm, which wreaked havoc on her appetite.  Anything larger than a mouthful was in danger of being punched back up the esophagus.  Feeling that shift, Rachel stood stock still for several very long moments, wondering if this was a sign of impending birth, wondering desperately if it meant that her water would break any instant now.  But several steps around the room only told her that the preparation of her body was still underway. 

Still the heaviness of Hope’s position made going down the stairs and meeting up with the rest even slower going for her.  Crankiness was also a set part of her mood now, something she was trying very hard not to take out on the others, and she dismissed much of it upon the fact that there was an insane, mentally deranged cyber-being waiting like a spider at the edge of its web to take Hope away once she cleared the unnecessary container.  So when Cort suggested he try to handle Ellen alone, Rachel found she did not have much energy to argue. 

I’d probably say something rude, anyway, she thought, as she climbed slowly back up, each step a deliberate effort.  This was so unlike the weariness she had experienced at the beginning of the pregnancy.  Then, it had been a matter of willing her body to stay in one piece with each muscle she moved.  Now it was a matter of convincing her muscles that to not move would mean freezing in place.  She rested frequently as she went up; Forsythe came and let her lean on him as he helped her the rest of the way, offered to bring a digestive for her to take once she sat down on the bed again.  Now all she felt like doing was napping. 

Only, once Forsyth brought her a drink, a wave of loneliness came over her, a bitterness over the fact that she was the one in a comfortable bed while her husband sat in the middle of the dust and rain.  What she really wanted, really needed, at this particular moment, was him laid out next to her, holding her, the two of them wrapped up in silent regard of each other.  When was their last moment of peace?  There...right before Maximus and Caroline showed up...in the living room of the blue house...just those few precious moments....

She grabbed the second pillow on the bed and held it close.  This sucked, she thought.  This really sucked.

Ellen headed for Doc Wallace's office and a few minutes later, Sid came back to the boardwalk, leaning against a post, looking down at Cort. "You plotting little plots?"

"Nothing you don't know about."

"You just keep that in mind, cowpoke.  There isn't much I don't know about."

"What about the Kid?" Cort tried again. "Do you have to kill him?"

"I need a little amusement, don't I, while dear sweet Ellen arranges the ink."

"Let me fight him," Cort suddenly blurted out.

"You? Why my wretched Reverend, you are so bashed and battered, the boy just might mow you down...so to speak."

Cort knew Sid was right. His arm muscles were strained and sore. He had no idea how fast he could draw anymore.  Sid saw the hesitation in Cort's eyes. "But that might be an interesting entertainment.  Especially if the bulging broom-pusher were to be watching."

Cort's lids dropped and he saw clearly Rachel's reaction were it to go that way. "You don't have to kill him," he repeated softly.

"True," Sid smiled, staring at Cort. "But I do have to kill you."

Lifting his head slowly, Cort met Sid's gaze.  "That might not be as easy as you think."

"Or...easier," Sid rejoined. "I could shoot you down right here and there's nobody who would stop me."

"But where's the fun in that?"

Sid's smile grew grim. "You think to play me, do you?"

Cort looked at him without blinking. "I have never seen this as a game, Sid."

"Oh, but you should! You should!  Your damn seriousness is taking all the fun out of it."  Sid's eyes turned to where Maximus had arrived on the doctor's porch.  "Speaking of grim. The General's always been a party-pooper."  Sid's expression brightened. "Ah, I know what we can do about our little impasse here. We'll just let Maximus and the Kid have their postponed fight. That sound fair, doesn't it?"

Cort's jaw muscles were working. "You know Maximus is not very experienced in this sort of thing."

"But it will be much more exciting, you must agree, than if I merely walk out there and kill the kid.  I'll get Horace to put it on the blackboard.  Ta ta!"

With Sid gone, Cort motioned Maximus to come over, explaining Sid's plan. "Listen to me, Maximus. This is not good. The Kid's fast and you're injured. You've got to find Bud, tell him to kidnap the Kid, hold him tied in the barn until we make it out of the film."

"Kidnap the Kid?" Maximus repeated. "Even the sound of it is...ignoble."

"Look, Brother," Cort said, standing up to face the General fully. "Nothing's going as it did before. This is the only way to keep the Kid safe, to keep you safe."

"Do you not think I can...."

"I don't want to find out, Maximus."

"The doctor could always give him some tea," Maximus said with a wry smile.

Cort snorted slightly.  "Might not be such a bad idea.  But, seriously, will you go tell Bud what I suggest?"

"I was just with him. I think he has gone to check on Rachel."

"Did he talk with Terry? Did you find out if they have any plans to help us?"

"There may be something, Cort, but nothing is assured. Not yet."

"Then we'd better continue taking care of ourselves," Cort said grimly. "You just can't risk it with the Kid, Maximus. Not with those ribs slowing you down."

"I do not like it."

"I know," Cort nodded, "but these are not usual times, usual circumstances.  Please, Maximus. Find Bud again. He'll know what to do. I saw the Kid go into his gun-shop alone about an hour ago.  We have to fight this however we can, whatever it takes."

Maximus rubbed his hand across his chin, looking at the apothecary's. "I do not...."

"Please," Cort interrupted.

Maximus sighed heavily and went toward the apothecary's, finding Bud on the lower level. "Bud," he greeted, "Cort has got something he would like you to do."

Forsythe only nodded at Maximus when he walked in, seeing that the man was quite focused in looking for something other than a pharmaceutical item.  Bud, however, was putting him through his paces, pulling down every item that involved alleviating pain or had some semblance of antiseptic.  Rachel had locked the door to her room and had responded with a polite but firm ‘go away’ – which disheartened Bud, but at least she was out of harm's reach for the time being.  He had come downstairs to amuse himself while waiting for Maximus to consult Cort, but particulars of supplies should there be gunshot wounds had kept him busy. 

“What is it?” He asked, trying to pick up three large jars of quinine and not succeeding. 

"Kidnap the Kid."

Bud nearly dropped the one jar he had picked up as he turned to see whether or not Maximus was serious.  But of course he was serious, Bud reminded himself.  They had yet to find out what would make this gladiator break into an outright laugh, much less pull a joke. 

“Are you serious?” He asked anyway.  “Is Cort serious?”  But of course Cort was serious as well.  He couldn’t have been any other way, especially sitting there watching the others in the street, strategizing.  In fact, as the thought processed, Bud remembered it was what had made Cort a favored member of Herod’s gang.  Maybe he had a good idea there...

"He thinks that is the only way to keep both the Kid and me alive." Maximus’ hand went to his left side. "He is not sure I am fast enough in my current condition."

“He’s probably right about that,” Bud agreed.  “And he’s not doing so well himself.  Excellent, Cort.  Excellent,” he added to himself, the wheels in his brain spinning.   “Where’s that cocky little punk now?”

"Cort said he saw the Kid go into his gun shop a while ago. He thinks he is in there alone. Do you want me to go with you?"

“Oh, yeah.  Hell, yeah.  Only question is where to stash him?”

"Cort suggested the barn where they stable the horses."  He suddenly turned, looking at Forsythe.  "Do you have laudanum here?"

Armed with a respectable amount of laudanum, kerchiefs, and rope, Bud and Maximus made their way to the gun shop, passing by Cort on their way, not speaking, making it clear they were going to do as he asked.  They found a few people had entered into the Kid’s business, so he and Maximus loitered until they left.  When it looked like the Kid was distracted, they both slipped in, with Bud closing the door behind him.

"You can leave that open, Mister," the Kid said. "Let the air in."

Neither Maximus or Bud answered.  Maximus walked up to the counter and looked down through the glass top at the guns displayed.  Bud slowly made his way to the end of the counter, positioning himself so he could get behind it quickly and easily.

"May I see that one?" Maximus asked politely, pointing at a Smith and Wesson.

"Sure," the Kid replied setting it on the countertop, then resting both his hands on the glass not far behind it.

With one smooth, quick motion Maximus reached forward and pinioned the Kid's wrists. "Sorry," he said as the Kid's startled eyes met his.

Bud acted with equal speed in stepping up behind the Kid and tying a laudanum soaked kerchief as a gag around his mouth.  He flipped the rope to Maximus to secure the Kid’s wrists and Bud picked up the displayed Smith & Wesson, ignoring the grunts and high-pitched muffled protests as he dragged their captive from behind the counter.  Maximus brandished his own gun to suggest the Kid not fight back while Bud supplied himself with bullets for the S&W.

“Out the back way?”  Bud asked, nodding his head in the general direction he wanted to go.

Maximus opened the back door, checking to see if anyone was about. It seemed clear so he grabbed the Kid's feet and the cop and the General, hauling their kidnap victim, hurried toward the back of the barn.

The Kid, of course, would not go without a struggle, and kept twisting his wiry little body to break loose of the two men, at one point almost wrenching free of Bud’s grip.  The cop’s answer to that was to let the Kid be dragged in the dust while the gladiator kept his pace so that the Kid’s back hit every pebble and stick on the path to the barn.  Bud saw the Kid pull one leg up to gain purchase for a blow to Maximus’ injured side and leveled his gun in the Kid’s face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he menaced, with a small grin.  “This man’s fought tigers scrawnier than you.”

The laudanum in the kerchief, however, worked its way fast, and by the time they had gained the cover of the barn, the Kid’s eyes were lolling back and forth in his head and whatever struggles he gave were against unseen figures.  Maximus used leftover rope to tie up the Kid’s legs and as Bud got a new dosage of laudanum ready, untied the handkerchief.

Some of the laudanum dripped down the Kid's chin and Maximus used the handkerchief to wipe most of it away. He tipped his eyes up to the now-standing Bud.  "I feel like some...what did Caroline once call it....brigand. Yes, I feel like a brigand doing this."  The swallowed laudanum was doing its job and the Kid's eyes closed completely.  Maximus sighed. At least the Kid would not die today. Anything, even this, was better than that. Maximus stood. "We had best tie him well despite the laudanum."  He folded the handkerchief into a gag, fastening it securely around the Kid's mouth.

"Its also called guerilla warfare, but we Americans are used to that," Bud replied and stood to consider the next step.  What next step?  This went easier than he thought it would, but that still left Sid to deal with.  Yep, that cavalry would be intensely welcome by now....

"You good to sit and watch over him while check on Cort?" He asked the gladiator, who knelt beside the dreaming Kid, looking slightly sorrowful in his elegant clothing.  "I can bring Caroline, if you wish," he added.

"I think it might prove wise for me to stay out of Sid's sight the rest of the afternoon," Maximus nodded, "but I would appreciate Caroline's company, yes. I think it would be good to keep her out of his sight as well.  He looks at her now, Bud, as though he is planning something."  He bent to arrange the Kid's body more comfortably on the straw. They had placed him well out of view of anyone coming into the barn, in a far, dark corner behind a large stack of crates. "But," he continued, looking levelly at Bud, "if I remain here, you will need to protect Cort from Ratsy tonight. If you find you need me in any way...."

“Done,” Bud agreed.  “And I have every intention keeping that little weasel away from Cort’s hands.  Rachel will never forgive me if I don’t,” he said, and slipped back out the door.

ON TO PART 32

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