Life And Times Of Jack Slaughter

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."

"Not of dreams or hopes or faith. That's the real killer. You just destroy the worthless parts."

I wasn't so sure about that, but I was tired of sitting there arguing about nonsense, stuff I didn't understand. I let her pull me out the swinging doors, down the dusty trail, and over to the heart shaped pond.

We jumped, still holding hands, clothes and all, guns and handbags, boots and shoes. The leap involved everything, no holding back. There was nothing neutral or casual about that heart shaped pond.

************************

I woke up on the floor of a large room. Barb was beside me sound asleep. I could hear the murmur of voices as though I was on the second floor of some building, and others were below me. So I pulled myself to my knees and then to my feet. Stumbling out of the room I entered a long hallway. At one end was a stairway, and I proceeded down it. At the bottom was a large entryway with a door to the outside and an arched opening that led deeper into the house.

I followed the sounds and entered a living room. Two girls sat close together on a large leather couch. They huddled over a large green book staring at pictures, talking and laughing over each one.

"What a doofuss!" It was the taller brown haired girl who was speaking. "Can you believe he actually cried -- in front of everyone!" She started laughing with this high pitched sound.

"I know!" exclaimed the other blond haired one. "Can't he take a joke. It's as though they tried to kill him or something."

I was curious and slid across the carpet thinking that perhaps I could catch a glimpse of the picture. It was a crazy thing I was doing, approaching two girls in their home like an intruder intent on harm. So I coughed and they glanced up startled, the lines of fear creasing their foreheads instantly.

"Don't be frightened," I said in my most soothing voice. "Your mother brought me here. Said you girls needed help with something. I'm not even sure what. She said you were in trouble."

"She always worries about us," said the blond girl. "We're fine, except we didn't go to Costa Rica this year." The girl jerked her head so her hair swung behind her with the sheen of good grooming.

"What about that boy you don't like? Can I see the picture?" I leaned over the couch and caught the sight of a boy tied to a chair, pieces of pie dripping from his face. A bunch of other teenagers stood around laughing at him.

"He causing you trouble?" I asked. "I can take care of it for you." I rested my hands on the twin pistols hanging from my belt. "It'd be no trouble to get rid of that doofuss for you."

"Really!" the brown haired girl said, her voice rising with excitement. "How were you thinking of doing that?"

"Well...." I paused thinking. "I figure he's a danger to you, bothering you. I'll walk up to him and ask him to fight -- fists or guns. He can have his pick." I smiled in anticipation. "Then I'll kill the little doof ass."

"Are you for real!" The brown haired girl spoke again with that same high pitched voice. "It's a joke right? Jack sent you. You're messing with my mind. That boyfriend is a real card" She paused staring at my serious face. Then her features fell, cheeks drooping, eyes brimming with tears. "You're serious!"

"Of course," I said. "That's what I do. I get rid of harmful things. I'm a killer. You don't like him, so I don't understand your change of heart now. You practically destroyed him with your own thoughts just a minute ago."

"I was only joking," she said.

Her lips pouted out as though she was offended by some brazen offense on my part. Of course all I had done was volunteer to finish the job she had started.

"So you care for him?" My question shook her. I still saw things in black and white not all the colors that spread out from this world.

She glanced away from me, to her hands. The picture book had slid onto the floor and her hands spun around some imaginary object as though she were kneading bread or something. She started speaking for a moment, then caught herself and was silent.

"Is there anyone else?" I asked.

Again they stared at me as though I was some insane apparition from the grave, as though I was from beyond time or something. They were right of course, only it wasn't time exactly. I was like a storm in a quiet afternoon. They had never experienced anything quite like it. Nothing like death to shake the soul.

"Is there anyone else?" I said it quieter this time. If anything, the tension simply increased.

"What do you mean? You don't make any sense at all?" It was the blond one who spoke this time.

"I'm here to help you girls," I said. "Don't you get it. I need to know who to kill. That's all I know how to do. So who is it? You said it wasn't that boy in the chair."

They wouldn't answer, just sat there, hands twisting on both their laps. Finally, the shoulders on the blond girl shook. Tears streamed down her face.

"Maybe you need to kill us," she said.

"But why? I'm here to save you."

"Maybe it's a different kind of death." She said this quietly as though discovering something. "Perhaps it already happened."

"If you're dead, then maybe I can help revive you." My voice was quiet now barely audible.

"Mom failed. College never helped either. How do you expect to change anything." The blond's voice was harsh now.

"Maybe it's a different kind of gun," I said. "Come here." My voice was loud, commanding, eyes at the low cut blouse the blond girl wore. I could have sworn she was wore no bra.

She came to me as though in a trance. I placed my arms around her and kissed her.

Her lips were soft, opened slightly so I was able to slip my tongue inside.I slid my hand under her blouse and rubbed her breasts. Caressing them, I touched the nipples, sliding my fingers over them in a circular motion.

"Ooh," she said. "Jack wouldn't like this."

I removed her blouse, helped her to the floor where my mouth fastened itself to the lovely circles of flesh. As I sucked on them, my tongue circled the nipples. I wanted more, regardless of the consequences. So I slid her jeans off her, spread her legs, slid the slender thong material to the side, and pressed my mouth to the wet spot glistening in front of my eyes.

As I wrapped my tongue around her clit, I felt hands on my belt buckle loosening it, a snap of a button, a zipper sliding. Someone was removing my jeans. The next thing I knew, a mouth was wrapped around my penis, sucking on it, sliding up and down it, tongue encircling it.

I glanced down. The brown haired girl was giving me one of the best blow jobs of my life.

I started shaking and not wanting to come in the girl's mouth, I pulled out. Soon I had replaced the mouth with the brown girl's cunt. It was without doubt the tightest pussy, I had ever entered like a living breathing thing, gripping me, massaging me. For a minute I thought I might come just laying there inside her.

As I slid in and out of her, jets of pleasure shot through my groin. I knew I was about to release my juices into her. I didn't feel ready for all of this but my body was about to explode. My hands gripped her hips, pulling her to me. My penis buried deep inside her, my pelvis pressed firm against her clit.

"Ahh," the brown girl cried as she built for her own release. "Shoot me now. I want your baby."

She started to thrash and scream. "Oooh baby," she cried. "I'm coming."

That's when I shot my load into her, round after round, until I was empty. Then I fell to my side, facing her, our lips almost touching, hands clasped in the cavity between our bodies.

"So maybe killing isn't all you know how to do these days," she said with a smile.

A smile was on my face as well, not a broad Cheshire grimace. This was the subtle kind, a mere slit on my face, corners turned up.

"But you did die remember," I said. "Just don't know of what."

"I'm not sure anymore," she said softly. "I can almost feel the life beginning within me. Our baby."

I waited a long while before responding. "Do you still feel ridicule toward that boy in the picture, the one that was crying?"

"Not any more," she said, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Then we slept.

The point between deep sleep and wakefulness was gradual. One moment I was dreaming of Barb sound asleep on the floor upstairs. The brown haired girl was there also. She was with me and then Barb. It was confusing in the way dreams often are.

As the dream faded, I actually felt the sucking sensation before the slurping sounds filtered past my earlobes. Suddenly I realized that I was hard, pulsing just a bit. The blond girl's mouth was around my penis, her pussy inches from my face.

Her aroma filled my nostrils. I wanted desperately to pull her to me but restrained myself. The events of the entire evening had been so outlandish, I needed to take stock of my situation, what was happening. And I wanted to study this lovely creature.

Her skin was a golden color, white skin lightly tanned. This was such a contrast to the other girl who was dark, hair black, eyes brown. I could see the wisps of hair poking between her legs, blond, almost white. Her hips were fairly narrow, legs slender, smooth, without defect.

Then I pulled her to me, burrowing my face between her legs. My tongue tasted of her juices, delicate flavors, tinge of saltiness -- delicious. I licked her dry and wanted more. My focus centered on her clit, my tongue like a lizard searching for a tasty morsel. Her juices flowed more and more strongly and I lapped them up as well as possible.

"I want to fuck you," she said crawling over me, positioning herself above me. I lifted her so she could slide over me.

Then I was inside. She was as tight as her sister but with more energy. Apparently my six-gun had reloaded for it wasn't long before she too received my cum, deep into her pussy.

We lay there gasping, alongside her still sleeping sister.

"Are they healed now?" The voice was from the doorway. Barb stood there, question marks in her eyes.