Two Gun Salute To Life
This story is from the world of the Mirror of Love. It is a separate story but ties into the other as the stories weave together.
My name was Jack Slaughter and that's what I did.
I was born with this curse that I wore like a tight fitting suit of clothes from that first day until now. A ball bouncing down a hill was slow to me. A fist flashing toward my face barely seemed alive. Bullets showed my real talents. They crawled in my direction. How easy I dodged them. Imagine how easy it was to shoot them as well. They rarely missed. It wasn't long before the dead mounted up deeper than I could count with either hand or even my toes.
I lived in a dried up town with one main street filled with a hotel, livery, restaurant, dry goods store, gun shop, saddle store, and three saloons. I guess drinking was the main thing we did in that town -- besides killing that is. The stores might have been painted at one time, but you couldn't tell now. The wood was cracked and some pieces of lumber had broken off from the main buildings.
I've never been anywhere outside of town. I don't even remember arriving here or where I came from. I don't think I was born here, because I can't remember my parents. Sometimes when I stare at the bottom of an empty whisky bottle I'll think about that, my parents I mean. Everyone has parents. Why didn't I? It was this mystery. I never thought too much about it because I was too busy watching some new kid from nowhere sneak into the saloon, glance around and then slide onto one of the stools in front of the bar.
Most of the time the kid would barely know enough to wash his face in the morning. His cheeks were covered with pimples. His hands would shake when he drank his whiskey, but soon he'd get the courage to turn around and face me.
The mug he showed was all twisted up like he was angry or something. I hardly felt anything, bored mostly. I knew it was hopeless. The kid could barely keep his knees from shaking much less his hands.
I'd get up from the table where I always sat and stand motionless for a while waiting. It was the waiting that bothered me most. He'd either give up, and slink out or he'd do the dumbest thing in his life and draw. That's why the bodies mounted up. Too many tried to draw.
I never exactly knew where all the people came from. They just appeared as though by magic, walked into the saloon or some other store. I'd ask them where they were from and they would give me this blank stare as though they had no idea either.
I was like God, always willing to oblige with a quick painless killing. I never liked doing it of course, made me sick afterward, but that never stopped it.
Once I tried to leave town. As I walked away I'd see the road in front of me curving into the mountains. The day was hot, I remember that, burning hot as though the sun was closer than it should have been. I wore my vest and that didn't help. The dust kicked up as I reached the edge of town, past the sign, past the heart shaped pond, and then a bizarre thing happened. I suddenly found myself turned around and walking back into town. I didn't remember turning around, but all of a sudden that's what happened. I glanced over my shoulder and the mountains were behind me. Only I was walking away from them.
I never tried it again, but I was curious about it. I wondered just where this town was located. Obviously it wasn't an ordinary place. I often thought that this world might be the mind of someone who didn't much care about anything, sort of a garbage bin of the soul. "Send all your bad thoughts to the Slaughter town. He'll get rid of them for you."
Or perhaps this was hell where evil people were punished.
I thought that was it for a long time. Until Barb showed up that is. She wasn't that tall, but what a cute one she was, not someone fresh out of her parents' house. No, she had experienced life. That was fine with me. I could never love any other kind of woman. I needed a companion, not some baby faced girl. She had long blond hair, lovely hair, and from the first I wanted to pull my fingers through that hair, let the strands flow between each digit.
She burst into the saloon. It wasn't a place for a woman especially as lovely as her. She didn't seem lost, but acted as though she knew what she wanted. Her steps never wavered as she headed straight for me.
When she reached my table, she paused standing motionless for the longest time. I didn't know what to do so I stood up too.
"Have a seat ma'am," I said.
"Thank you," she said with short even tones. I pulled a chair out for her and she slipped into it.
I didn't say anything. After all she was the one who had approached me. I pushed a shot of whiskey toward her. She smiled and shook her head. "I'm more of a wine person," she said.
"Wine?" I said it like I was spitting some foul tasting phlegm out of my mouth. "This is a man's place. That's for pretty socials and things."
Now it was her turn to wait. I knew she'd never say anything until I cleared the air.
"OK. I'm sorry." The words were sincere. I'm not the most sensitive guy in the world, but the thought of hurting her pinched that old heart of mine. "I'm nervous is all, you coming in here, looking so fresh and clean." I shook my head at this. "No. It's more than that, it's this way you stare as though you see through me, like I'm this piece of glass."
"I'm sorry too," she said in return. "I have something to ask you and I'm afraid to do it."
"'Cause I'm Jack Slaughter, killer of men?"
"No." She smiled again. "You're not much of a killer."
"The graveyard at the edge of town tells a different story."
She laughed then, almost as if she didn't believe me. "I figure all the bad things have been burnt away by now. You're ready to begin."
"Begin what?"
"Life."
I was confused, but didn't want to show it. She was talking in riddles like she knew me more than I knew myself, as though she knew where I came from or something. I needed to be careful here I thought.
"What did you want to ask me?"
She played with her fingers for a while, then gripped the table with both hands. Staring into my eyes, she said, "I need to save my twin girls."
"And how can I do that?"
"I don't know." She was silent again and I figured she was thinking. "I just know you're the one to help is all, that you can do it."
"How did you find out about me?"
"It's in the book. The directions and everything are there. They sell it at Walden's, even Barnes and Noble's has a few copies."
"What kind of book? What's the name of this book?" My voice raised as my concern grew.
"The Life and Times Of Jack Slaughter. It was written years ago by this guy named Dan Buford. It talks of jumping into a heart shaped pool to leave this place."
I thought of the pool by the road heading out of town. It was heart shaped. I recalled the time Dan Buford came through here with his girlfriend Althea, how they talked about the pool. I was drunk at the time and barely remembered. Now it was coming back to me in bits and pieces -- talk of a mirror, and a place that was home.
This town wasn't home. It was more like a prison. That's what I wanted -- to find a home. But I didn't want to be alone. I couldn't leave here until that problem was solved. Maybe it was Barb?
"What about you Barb? Do you need to be saved?" What a question I thought as though we were talking in symbols and not about anything real. Of course I was so confused I had no idea what was up or down anymore.
"Maybe," she said. "Maybe the persuader won't let me know about that."
"Persuader?"
"You know what I mean. It's in the book."
"I've never heard of such a person," I said.
"It's that person in your heart that won't let it expand, that keeps repeating the old fears so you won't trust. Trust is like this leap of faith, out into the darkness. And the persuader will never let you take it. He points to the rocks below when you should be looking at the comfort and joy at the other side. And it's not just this man but others too, people like you Jack, a killer with the heart of a poet. Can I trust you?"
"Probably not," I said. "I've done some bad things. I feel nothing, only when I kill and then I throw it all up."
"Maybe we can never trust anyone." She was no longer talking to me, but to herself, thinking out loud.
"So you will always be alone like me. Is there anything that makes this leap safe?"
Her eyes came alive as she stared at me. "Not completely. Otherwise it wouldn't be a leap. The trust is all we have. That's the answer for all of us, you and I, even my twin girls. We need to make the leap."
"How? Where?"
"Into the pond." She jumped up from her chair and pulled on my hand, but I'd lived here too long. It would take more than a pretty woman to get me moving. There was something in my past that I needed to clean up first, only I couldn't remember what it was. I think that's why I ended up in this town and the only way I could get out of here was if I could figure it out.
Or maybe I should forget the past and simply forge ahead. Take that leap over and over until I quit crashing into the rocks.
"So what's wrong with your girls?" I wasn't going anywhere until I knew more, much more.
"The persuader has them," she said. "He kidnapped their hearts. They were fine when they were young. Then around fourteen they started to change. I don't even recognize them now."
I laughed, probably a little too harshly. I didn't want to offend her or anything. "That's just growing up. It happens to everyone."
"Not to you," she said.
"Or you," I responded. "You were able to find this place too." I thought about what I'd just said. It popped out without any deliberate contemplation. "I'm afraid I'm no good to you. I'm worse than the persuader. I'm a killer."
