Legends Of The Multiverse #16 - Deus Ex Deputy
"Take another fuckin step and I'll send this mother fucker straight to hell!"
Framed in the stone doorway of the old Westman's National Bank, stood "Madman" Jack O'Leary, bank robber extrordinaire and accomplished killer of men, women, and children. In his right hand he held a Smith and Wesson 40 caliber revolver. In his left was the bank manager, Harry, a portly gentleman of three score and seven years, and well liked and respected by just about everybody.
Now Dessie was an enlightened township, far ahead of the social moors to which other communities often hewed, and neither a man holdin a gun, nor a man holdin another man, was cause for much concern in those parts.
What perturbed the thirty or so police officers surrounding the front, and only, entrance to Westman's bank on the corner of Douglas and Main, was that the one thing, the gun, was pointed dead square at the brain pan of t'other thing, ole Harry the bank manager.
Madman Jack pulled back on the hammer and tossed a laugh into the street that would have sent a herd of cows runnin.
"Care to try me?"
No one did. Real slow, the police backed away, while, real slow, Jack and Harry did the same, until the police were behind their car doors and Jack was back inside the bank.
"Sonofabitch." Sheriff Ray Nancy of the Dessie county sheriff's office got to thinkin. The bank was a castle, made of heavy stone, with only one way in and one way out. On t'one hand, that meant the bank robber was trapped, which most tacticians and fox hunters would agree was a good thing.
But on t'other hand, Madman Jack O'leary wasn't no Goddamn fox. Maybe a hi-eena, but with a gun and a pile of TNT.
"Sonofabitch." Wasn't gonna be no good outcomes today. If they were all real lucky the SWAT guys might get a clean shot before Jack blew hisself up. But Sheriff Nancy wasn't feelin lucky.
Just then a commotion stirred up in the crowd. The townsfolk were corralled 300 yards away by some green-gilled cadets out've the academy. A man on an unmarked motorcycle came through the citizenry, slow and sure, past the line of police, eventually stoppin right next to the Sheriff.
"Thought you'd left town Harris." Sheriff Nancy never took his eyes off the bank.
The motorcyclist dismounted, pulled a 12 gauge Remmington semi automatic shotgun off the holster on the side of his bike, checked to make sure it was loaded, cocked a slug into the chamber, lowered his sunglasses a touch, and eyeballed the sheriff. Then he tipped his hat, said "Nancy," all matter of fact like, and started toward the bank real slow.
Sheriff Nancy spat out a wad of tabacco juice and grimaced. "Gonna get 'em all killed Harris."
Deputy Sheriff Brick Harris didn't even turn around. "Not today," he replied and kept on walkin.
T'other policemen tensed up, checked their guns, and got down low behind their car doors like they was made of tie-tanium. The crowd went quiet and even the birds seemed to stop chirpin and the air to stop blowin. The whole wide world braced itself for a shitstorm as Deputy Harris came within 20 feet of the bank doors.
But just before Deputy Harris started to raise hell, a white flag appeared behind the glass door of the bank. Deputy Harris stopped in his tracks as a hand pushed the bank's front door open and tossed a 40 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver onto the street. Then a bag overfull with TNT. Then a stream of pants pissin bank workers came a'runnin out. And finally ole Harry the bank manager came scamperin behind 'em, red in the face.
Last of all came Madman Jack, real slow, his hands way up in t'air. Deputy Harris kept his shotgun pointed straight at Jack's head. But Madman Jack fell to his knees and said, "Eh, I changed my mind. How t'fuck was I gonna get out of there anyways?"
The other policemen raced forward and got Jack under their boots and into some cuffs. Then a roar of celebration went up all around the bank and Sheriff Nancy strolled up to Deputy Harris and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Good work Brick."
Things just had a way of resolvin themselves when Brick Harris got involved.
Deputy Harris shook his head and sucked his teeth."Well shit. Every God-damn time." Then he walked over to Madman Jack, and punched him hard in the face.
Brick walked back over to his motorcycle, stuck the shotgun back into the holster on the side of the bike, and considered how, in 32 years as a policeman, despite all the crazy shit he'd seen, he'd never fired the damn thing outside the range. Every time some action looked liable to go down it would just resolve itself the moment Brick arrived, all Deus Ex Machina-like. Wouldn't have nothin to do with Brick neither - it was just Brick's shit luck.
Later that night, sippin a cup of tea, Brick was talkin to the picture of his wife, Martha, as he was wont to do, from time to time.
"Martha, thank goodness I ain't the hero of some story somewhere, cause it'd be one hell of a borin yarn."
LOVELY WRITING... U ALWAYS HAVE ME COMING TO YOUR BLOG ALWAYS
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Up my post brader ... 😊
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