DUST (Splatter Western Book 3) by Chris Miller

Author:Chris Miller [Miller, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, epub, QuarkXPress
Publisher: Death's Head Press
Published: 2020-06-09T22:00:00+00:00

PART IV:

A Shootout

21

The first shot from Bonham rang out sooner than Quentin had expected it to, and he jerked in surprise. The glass at the front of the Sheriff’s office was tinkling to the boards beneath it somewhere behind the roar of Bonham’s repeater, and Quentin jerked his gaze across the street, eyes wide, and stared in the open window to the dilapidated general store.

Blue ribbons of smoke billowed from the barrel of the rifle protruding from the window, and Quentin could just make out the dark figure of Bonham within jacking another round into the repeater with the lever, his movements masked in shadow.

“Son of a bitch, Bon—”

But Quentin’s words were drowned out by the roar of the second shot. He heard wood splintering beneath him and leaned over the lip of the roof. Through a window below him, he could see a large man with a gray beard on the floor next to a corpse whose head was little more than a ragged stump of quivering meat. Quentin brought his revolver up and aimed at the fat man on the floor, cocking the hammer back.

As he squeezed off a round, a third man stepped into the frame of the window, and as the revolver bucked in Quentin’s hand, he saw a splash of meat and blood erupt from the man’s forearm through the scattering shards of glass.

Another scream as the man hit the floor. Gunshots were booming and popping all over the street now, and Quentin glanced up and saw Avery firing from his perch across the street from him. Blue smoke drifted in a thick cloud, hanging in the rain defiantly as the shots continued. Glass exploded and wood split into splinters in the Sheriff’s office below. Quentin looked again to the window, raising his revolver to finish off the man he’d hit a moment before, but all he could see was the nearly headless corpse Bonham had dispatched.

“Goddammit!” he cursed as he scrambled to the corner of the roof for a better vantage.

As he leaned over with his gun before him, readying to fire on anything that moved, he saw something which caused his every motor function to lock in place in awed amazement. The wall to the side of the Sheriff’s office, the one facing the alley above which Quentin was perched, was shimmering as though heat waves were rising through the soaking ground and through the pelting rain. Then two men stumbled through it and splashed into the mud.

And still, Quentin could not move. He couldn’t react. He was faintly aware his eyes had tripled in diameter, and the scruff on his chin was tickling the top of his chest.

As the two men struggled frantically to their feet, recognition dawned on Quentin’s face. It was the James Dee fella and the black man he had picked up in the woods outside of town. They had somehow burst through the wall and—and they had weapons.

How in hell did they—

His thoughts were cut off as motor function returned to him all at once and a rush of adrenaline flooded his veins.

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