Burnt ©67 HK Devonshire All Rights Reserved

Burnt ©2007 Peter Prellwitz All Rights Reserved

Burnt

Backstab Powell walked out of the miner’s dome and swung a leg over his hov bike. Slung over his back was an emergency beacon. Judging by how quickly the bike kicked to life and the ease which Backstab rode it, he clearly had no personal need to use the beacon. So that meant he was going to deploy it on top of the rim of the canyon the dome was in for one of two reasons; to help someone or to trap someone.

To Roids Cavanaugh, lying hidden among the boulders fifty yards away and watching intently, and knowing Backstab as well as he did, there could be only one reason. Powell was going Marshal hunting.

The outlaw’s bike disappeared around a bend and Roids came to his feet and quickly moved on the dome, both his Doombringer Colts out and at the ready. Backstab worked alone, so the only person who could be in the dome was Gaffy Layton. A more honest man than Gaffy would be hard to find, so if he was alive, he’d be needing help. But the guns stayed out.

Not wanting to waste time, Roids entered the transparent airlock using the emergency cycle. It wasted air and energy, but got him through the two doors in under five seconds. He passed through an opaque third door and into the small, one-room dome.

He was right, Gaffy needed help. He lay in the middle of the floor, staring at Roids, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His hands, arms and face were a deep red. Roids holstered his Colts.

“Bas… bastard hit me with a radiation tagger just as I was changing out of my suit,” Gaffy choked out. Roids knelt beside him and tore the shirt off. It was a standard anti-radiation tee. Along with the pants, they provided an extra layer of protection under the suit. Gaffy’s ebony chest looked normal up to his shoulders and neck, but ended with the horrific deep red of burnt and dying flesh on his face and arms.

Roids reached for the NumMist at his belt and HeartGo injector in his suit’s arm pocket. He smeared the NumMist on the miner’s arms and face, then plunged the injector into Gaffy’s chest and heart. He screamed, then relaxed as the medicines numbed his skin and stabilized his system.

“Roids… it’s a trap!” he gasped. “He went to set… set.. the beacon and pull in a Mar… Marshal to ambush.” Gaffy coughed hard twice and moaned from the pain. “He said he wanted to bag… bag…”

 “I saw him, Gaffy. He didn’t see me.” Roids considered the airlock. The new domes had an energy shield that kicked in if the airlock failed. This older model, however, used a third physical door. It was for that reason Backstab had probably picked Gaffy to set up his ambush. Not only could you not see into the dome, it was sturdier against bullets.

Roids winked at Gaffy. “Looks like Backstab’s trap gonna work after all.” Gaffy chuckled and nodded.

“I do feel a mite better about that trap now,” he said in a stronger voice. “But I do have a small favor to ask. Backstab burnt me good. Seems I should give as I got.”

Backstab jammed the rod into the red rock and activated the beacon. Two arms of blinking lights extended out from the beacon and began transmitting. He nodded with satisfaction and mounted his hov and headed back to the dome.

Once returned, he stashed his bike where it wouldn’t be seen. He wanted the Marshal’s attention focused on the dome. He, or she, would open that third door and see the miner on the floor, gasping his last, and rush in to help him, not seeing the waiting Backstab against the wall, beside the door.

He cycled the airlock and stepped into the small chamber and waited for repressurization. He had plenty of time, he figured, before any Marshal could make it here. The second door opened and he stepped in. That was the worst part, waiting hours with that miner as he wheezed and moaned. The radiation wouldn’t kill him for days, but… the third, innermost door opened.

“Howdy, Backstab.”

The Marshal stood over Gaffy, with his arms folded and a smile on his lips, staring at Backstab. It was Roids Cavanaugh!

For whatever reason, Roids hadn’t drawn his gun, so Backstab went for his. His hand slapped the gun butt and he…

The deafening roar of a gun and Backstab was slammed against the door. He looked with desperation at Roids, but saw the Marshal still hadn’t drawn his gun. A second boom and the slug took him in the shoulder. Gaffy, propped up on an elbow, was holding a Doombringer Colt, smoke still trailing from the barrel. Gaffy’s face twitched into a painful smile as he eared back the hammer of the gun.

“See you, Backstab.”

The gun went off a third time, but Backstab didn’t hear it. Come to think of it, he thought as he slumped to the ground, he hadn’t really felt it, either…

Gaffy lay down again and handed Roids the gun. He let out a long sigh.

“Thanks, Roids, for letting me settle up with Backstab. I reckon he and I are square.”

Roids took the Cold and holstered it, nodding. “Seems even up to me,” he agreed. He looked at the man’s arms, now pock-marked with whitening blisters on his dark skin. “But when you heal up, Gaffy, you’re gonna have some impressive tan-lines.”