Chapter Eleven

  A Lakota warrior and a mafia gangster walked under the arched legend that read: ‘Museum of Humankind’. The other visitors didn’t know whether to be amused or scared as they walked down through the main entrance hall. Scanning the corners and alcoves they cautiously proceeded.

‘They haven’t acted yet - there’s no panic’ said Gradski

‘There’s gonna be - let’s set off the fire alarm so no bystanders get injured’

‘Good idea, but won’t that warn the bad guys that something’s up?’

‘Better than having to live with the death of a child in the cross fire’

‘You’re expecting a real fire fight ain’t ya - wish I’d put on a clean shirt’ said Gradski nervously. 

Jimi smashed the glass on the alarm. People immediately started to calmly walk out. 

Then they heard a scream. 

‘It came from up there’ said Jimi pointing at the stairway.

Quickly and silently the two friends mounted the staircase - one each side.

A gun shot ricocheted on the wall just ahead of them. They both crouched instinctively. 

‘Is that you, you murderin’ Indian’ Al’s voice boomed.

‘Yeah, I come to get educated here regularly’ said Jimi with a snarl.

‘We’ve got your little girl friend - so don’t be doing anything stupid. We’re just gonna head out like regular people and leave this goddamned planet’

‘Come on down - we won’t shoot’

‘You got someone with you then, Jimi?’

‘Just another culture lover like me’

They backed away as Susan appeared just ahead of Al who was holding a gun to her head. Two of his henchmen followed - but where was the other one?

Suddenly Susan kicked Al in the shin and leapt forward. Al collapsed but the two other men raised their pistols. The rat-a-tat-tat of the machine gun rang out, taking down one of the men in a blizzard of blood red mist. Jimi heard the bullet from the other man’s gun whiz past his ear. He fired, hitting him in the groin. He howled pitifully before Gradski finished him off with another hail of bullets. He was smiling in triumph at Jimi when a fountain of blood erupted from the side of his head. As Gradski fell Jimi turned and saw the missing member of Al’s gang taking aim at him! Fanning the hammer, he emptied the colt. As the smoke cleared he saw his adversary holding his neck and desperately trying to breathe. Coughing up his soul he died in a sprawled heap. Quickly Jimi ducked into an alcove, expecting to be killed by one of Al’s bullets. It was quiet, he peered around the corner - Al was gone! Susan’s body lay just above Gradski’s on the stairs. Jimi was overcome with rage: ’I’m gonna kill you Al Swearengen’ he shouted, reloading clumsily.

‘Come and get me then, you red skinned heathen - you started this little fracas. I tried to get that damned machine to take me back so I could wait for you when you arrived with the guns for your murdrein’ people. I coulda killed you right there and none of this would’ve happened. But it must be programmed to just one time of arrival - and Susan arrived two hours after you did! Two measly hours, otherwise those Injuns would all be dead instead of the brave 7th cavalry’

Al was right, thought Jimi, the pods were dialled in to just two points in time - destination and return. Thank the god’s that Susan arrived after he had delivered the guns. Susan!

‘Listen you bastard, how about settling this thing - man to man’ he shouted.

‘You mean for us to face off?’

‘How about it, unless you’re scared of a redskin?’

‘Move back down to the foot of the stairs, I’ll meet you down there’

Jimi backed down carefully. He backed up about 20 feet and waited for Al.

Suddenly Al came running down the stairs firing wildly.

Jimi dived into a roll and fired from the floor. His bullets found their mark, crumpling Al’s waistcoat. He looked at Jimi with eyes wide with hatred as he fell, head first, to the shiny floor. As he did so a transparent spherical object tumbled from a bag strapped to Al’s back. The skull rolled towards Jimi and rested, glowing, with it’s eye sockets looking directly into Jimi’s.