Maggie Get Your Gun (3 page)

There it was.  The great silver mine that this whole place
built itself around.  I had a hole in the ground named after me.

“Fantastic,” I muttered.

But silver was good.  Silver had a way of insulating magic
a bit.  So, we hustled over, and much to my surprise, there was a little train station
next to the mine entrance.  For a few bucks, we could make a loop out into the
desert à la antique steam engine.  It went out around a stack of white rocks
touted as the site of the original mother load before heading back.

I couldn’t have asked for a better setting to see what sort
of trouble I had gotten us into.

Here’s the insider's scoop on dealing with magic… Silver is
one way to foil its dastardly deeds, kind of like rubber insulation around a
live wire.  But magic has an even harder time working when it is in motion and
unable to ground itself.  We probably could have looked at the comb in my car,
but if you think driving and texting is stupid, try driving and deciphering the
mystical properties of a mysterious object.

The train was fantastic.

We climbed aboard a little wooden car hooked up to the red
engine.  There were other tourists climbing in, too, but it’s amazing that if
you start coughing without covering your mouth how people naturally seem to
pick a cart far away from yours.

The train tooted its whistle and the conductor’s voice came
over an intercom that seemed to have been constructed by the same folks who
make fast food drive-thrus.   Killian and I settled in as we chugged away from
the station.  I wrapped my hand in my shirt tail and pulled out the comb.

It was a brass thing about the size of my palm.  Looked a
little like a Chinese fan with a couple Egyptian scarabs etched into the
spokes.  Push the teeth into your Gibson girl up-do and voila!  Instant
fanciness.

It buzzed quietly as I held it, trying to get grounded.

“It appears pleasant enough,” said Killian in a low voice.

“Yah, just like that dinosaur in Jurassic Park that then
jumped out to spit poison in that dude’s face.  This is a shitty little
decoration to give to a lady.”

“Please permit me to examine it,” said Killian.

I poured it into his hand and he began juggling it like a
hot potato.  Pleasant enough, indeed.

“Give me the bag,” he ordered.

I opened it up and he jammed the comb back inside.

“What devilish…” he said as he started sucking on his palm.

“Right???” I replied.

“This is powerful magic.  We are in motion and near
silver.”  He shook his head ruefully as he looked down at where it had left a
red welt in his skin, “Did it burn you, too?”

"No," I said, looking down at where it had zapped
me in the shop.  My fingers were tingly but not burned.

"Why not?" Killian asked, little miffed that I
wasn't feeling his pain.

“I guess it just likes me better.”

Killian narrowed his eyes, “If it likes you better, perhaps
you should wear it.”

I socked him in the arm and rolled my eyes as he made an
"ow" face, the big baby, "How about we bring it back to our
loving patron and see if we can give him a shock?”

Killian stopped rubbing his boo-boo just long enough to
oh-so-helpfully point out, “The officials at the portals will not allow you to
carry such an object through to the Other Side.”

There was a little rule that you had to leave nasty objects
on the side that you found them, probably why our Mr. Smith decided to reach
out for discrete, professional help.

“Great,” I sighed, resting my head in my hands and figuring
out why that number had so many zeros on the right hand side.  “I mean, I knew
better.  I KNEW BETTER.  But the money was so good…”

Killian nodded his head, sagely, “It was very good money.”

“I didn’t mean to put us in danger, Killian.”

“These things happen.”

“I could give back the money,” I pointed out.

“You would still have to dispose of the comb responsibly.”

I sighed apologetically, “I promise never to take a skeevy
offer ever again.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Okay, I probably will, but I promise never to take a
skeevy offer again from THIS guy.”

“Shall I hold you to it?”

“No.”

“I thought perhaps not.”

Our grand loop in the desert was coming to a close and the
station was approaching.  Our choo-choo came to a stop.

“Listen, we’ll head back out to Los Angeles,” I said,
gathering up my crap so we could get off.  “We’ll jump through an unofficial
portal I know of, which I may or may not have had a part in creating, and we'll
call it a day.”

“Are you sure?”

A chill ran up and down my spine, “What do you mean?”

“The jade lion caused your father to become trapped in the
boundary.  Do you know if you can walk between worlds while carrying that
comb?”

“Shit.”

We unloaded from the car and I tried not to step on any
children.

“Ugh, if only I could find someplace safe for it here on
Earth while we figured out what it is,” I groaned.

“Could your sister guard it?”

“She can barely protect herself against the slobbering
affection of that dog of hers.  No way I’m sticking her with this thing,"
I paused to think, "Are you sure we couldn't just drop it down a mine
shaft?”

"I support you in whatever you feel would be
appropriate and responsible," Killian replied, darn him.

“All I ever wanted to be was to bring some bad guys to
justice.  Now I’m stuck running artifacts over the boundaries.  I AM BECOMING
THE BAD GUY, KILLIAN.”

“You are not a bad guy.”

“I’m breaking inter-dimensional law.”

"You have not broken it yet."

I stared at the bag, “We gotta take it over...”

Killian nodded his head sagely, “If Mr. Smith tracked it down,
it is likely that others are looking for it, too.”

“Okay,” I said.  “We cross over and hope I don’t get
stuck.”

Killian gave my arm a squeeze.  I was glad to know that if
this was my last cross, he would be at my side.

“If you disappear,” he said, his soulful eyes looking deep
into mine, “May I have your television?”

I hit him.

Chapter 4

We got into my car and pulled out of the parking lot.  The
road was pretty lousy, filled with rocks and stones.  I prayed that I didn’t
get a puncture.  That’s all this day needed.  And right as we were passing Boot
Hill, I heard the hiss.

“Crap.”

I pulled my car over and got out.  It was flat all right,
gashed wide open.  I popped my trunk, which appeared to have turned into a
second basement while I wasn’t looking.  I dumped empty shopping bags, clothes,
and crossbows on the ground, finally digging my way down to the jack and my
spare.  Driving on a donut 130 miles to Los Angeles was going to suck.  We
would have to grab a real tire somewhere between here and there.  No way I was
getting stuck in the middle of the desert at night with a bad tire.  I’d seen
that horror movie.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen THIS horror movie or I would
have known to drive on the rim till I got out of dodge.

My first inkling that something was completely fucked up
was the sound of stones sliding.  I turned around towards Boot Hill.  To keep
the coyotes from picking the bones of their loved ones, the family members of
the dead had stacked rocks above each grave.  And the rocks were now shifting. 

“Killian!” I warned.

He turned around, “Yes, Maggie?  Are you in need of help?”

“Yah, I think I’m going to need a lot of help.”

I picked up the tire iron and walked to the cemetery.  The
vibrations got more violent as I got closer.

The first hand burst through the rubble and pulled himself
up.  The body had turned into aged, beef jerky out in the desert sun.

“What in Boot Hill did you wake up?” Killian cursed,
running over to the pile of crap I had pulled out of the trunk to find some
weaponry.

“I don’t know,” I replied.  “I’m just going to start trying
to kill it and we’ll see.”

Two more dried out, dead bodies had pulled themselves out
of their graves and were coming towards me.  They were fast.  They seemed
smart.  I wacked one guy’s head off.  He stumbled around, picked it up, put it
back on, and came right back at me.

“Not zombies!” I announced, ducking as he swung at me. 

I pulled out my stake and chucked it at its heart.

“Not vampires,” Killian observed.  He had my Louisville
Slugger in his hand and started swinging.  He was knocking the covers off of
these dudes, but they just kept putting themselves back together again.  Still,
as they wandered around the graveyard looking for their missing pieces, it
bought me a little time.

I ran over to my car and pulled out a can of hairspray.

“I do not believe you will be able to style them to death,”
Killian shouted as he bashed another creature.

Oh good.  The elf had picked up sarcasm.

I started the spray as I whipped out a Zippo lighter.  With
a flick of my fingers, I lit the makeshift flame thrower.  The closest monster
went up like a roman candle.  His charred remains crumbled to the ground. 
Killian and I stood there for a moment watching him burn.

“Mummies,” I observed, “We have mummies.  What do you say
we start a bonfire?”

“I shall see if the General Store has a stock of
marshmallows,” Killian replied, turning around to knock down another walking
corpse.

I lit them all on fire.  Every last one of those bastards.

As we watched them smolder, I could see a park ranger
coming over from his ticket stand to see what all the smoke was from.

“Just overheated my engine!” I yelled at him.

“Can I help?” he called.

I so needed him to not come over until these muthas had
burned themselves out.

“Yah, could you go grab me some water for the radiator?!”

The park ranger gave me a salute and started jogging up to
the town.

I looked at Killian, “We should leave right now.”

“I could not agree more.”

I looked at my poor car, “And we can’t.”

Killian joined me to gaze at the flat and all my crap
spread out on the side of the road.  He sighed, “I could fix it, but you would
owe me.”

Fucking elves.

“Your own ass is on the line!  Don’t you think you could
skip the favors on this one?”

“It is the way these things work,” Killian replied
apologetically as he walked over to one of the burning bodies and stoked it
like a log in a fireplace.

“Don’t I get an employer discount?”

“I am afraid that it is not in our contract.”

I looked at the burning corpses.  They were already down to
the smoldering bones.  Fucking magical rules and magical karmic debt.

I went over and kicked one of the bodies.  It collapsed
upon itself and was nothing but a pile of dust.  I shook my head as I muttered,
“What made you guys decide you were tired of eternal sleep, huh?”

“Perhaps the comb?” offered Killian.

“I’m thinking that’s about the way of things.”

I pulled out the baggie from my pocket and leaned up
against the stone cemetery wall.  Another pile of rocks started to rumble.  I
stepped back and the rumbling stopped.  Stepped forward and it started again. 
I walked closer to the pile and the mummy came right out.  I torched him before
he knew what was happening, poor fella.

“Well, guess you gotta get close for the mojo to kick in,”
I stated.

“Are we going to be raising the dead our entire journey
home?”

“Let’s hope the mob dropped off their bodies a bit farther
off the road.”

Killian sighed, “Can you make a portal here?”

I should have said no.  There is a reason why
portals are carefully mapped out and you don't just go around creating them
willy-nilly.  You don't know what's waiting for you through the doorway - could
be someplace completely safe and wonderful like George Clooney's boudoir. 
Could be a vampire lair inside of an erupting volcano.  You just don't know. 
But I really wanted to get home without any more surprises and, stupidly,
decided to press my luck.

I reached out into the boundary and gave it a little
knick.  Salt water gushed in.  The good news is that it doused all of the
smoldering corpses and pulverized them into dirt, which saved us all sorts of
uncomfortable questions from the local authorities, one of which I could see
headed my way with a gallon of water right now.  The bad news is that closing
up the portal made stars dance in front of my eyes.  You try pushing back on
the weight of the ocean.