He walked through the double doors into the crowded interior. Display tables stocked goods of every sort, from food and drink to hardware, men and women's clothes, and more. Shelves, bins, and display cases lined on the walls, stuffed with household items, guns and ammo, machine and motor parts, used robots and androids, tobacco products and accessories, medical supplies, and an endless number of varied items. A clerk rang up customers behind a long countertop filled with so many impulse items that he was nearly hidden from sight.
Gunner passed a pair of old men seated across a table, playing checkers on a holographic board. Stopping by the men's clothing display, he picked out a pair of sturdy jeans, a loose-fitting tartan fabric shirt, and tried on several pairs of boots before settling on one. Glancing up, he caught a couple of men staring his direction, Nimrods from the look of them. One kept pointing to the display on his holoband, but the other shook his head.
"Didn't you hear? He just shot Arthur Bright dead right in front of the Baron's saloon. C'mon, before he puts you down the same way."
Gunner grinned as the smart one led his partner away. Taking his gear, he nodded to the clerk behind the counter. "I'm getting these. I'll take a pack of cheroots and some .44 rounds too. And a bottle of rye."
"What kind?"
"Bulleit. You can put everything in that leather messenger bag. I'll take that too."
Walking out the store, he slung the bag over his shoulder and tipped his hat at a pair of ladies passing by. The sun sank behind the buildings, casting shadows and turning the dust into glimmering motes. He paused, listening as a familiar voice carried over the din of the Town, fearless and strong.
"An avenger. An avenger approaches. He will arrive with the storm, bathing this Town in fire and sulfur. A destroyer comes, and the wicked will not escape his wrath. Tremble, you sinners. Repent and wash your hands of blood and violence. Flee from this place, for in just a few days, God's wrath will be upon you. A storm comes. It approaches, and it will not be late."
"Ain't no rain coming, you old fool," someone shouted. "If it did, I might just thank your God. This place is a dust bowl."
Laughter rippled through the gathered crowd. Gunner made his way through as others mocked and jeered. When he got to the center of the street, he saw the cause of the commotion.
A wrought-iron cage hung from a beam in the town square. Inside of it was Pablo, cramped so tight he could barely move. Despite the discomfort, he continued to deliver his sermon of judgment.
"Will you be like those who witnessed the construction of the Ark, but didn't heed the warning of Noah until it was too late? Will you be like those in Jericho, believing in the strength of their towering walls and fortifications until they came tumbling down? Will you be like those in Sodom and Gomorrah, indulging in lust and violence until the fires fell from heaven and devoured them all? Or will you be like those in Nineveh, repenting in dust and ashes and thereby moving Jah to stay His mighty hand?"
The crowds jeered, shouting and cursing. Some threw stones and junk metal, the impacts ringing as they struck the bars of the cage. Pablo continued his deliberation in spite of the mockery and missiles, gesturing like a master storyteller even as his voice was drowned out by boos and catcalls.
Gunner planted a cheroot between his teeth and shook his head. "You old fool. I tried to tell you."
Adjusting his bag, he turned and walked back to the inn as the crowds continued to shout and heckle behind him.
Fire all around and smoke so dense, choking him. Searing his lungs. Still, he ran toward the building. His skin blistered, his eyes blurred, tears carving tracks into his sooty face. Raspy laughter echoed around him. When he turned, the figure was barely visible. A silhouette, standing in the middle of the flames as if heat couldn't harm him. As if the fire was his to obey…
Gunner blinked his eyes open and slowly sat up, scrubbing a hand across his face. Moonlight bathed the room in orange light, its glow transformed by the constant film of dust that hung in the air. The clamor of the Town lessened, although drunken laughter and conversation drifted from the bars and saloons. A gunshot rang out, echoing like thunder. Two more shots boomed, followed by a momentary silence. Then the voices continued as if nothing happened. The streetlamps flickered, dimming for a few seconds before brightening again. The clamor from the power plant seemed to grow even louder.
Gunner got up from the lumpy mattress fully dressed, pausing to slide into his boots and throw on his duster before leaving the miniscule room. He paused by the tiny stove, plucking two sausages and a heel of bread left over from the dinner Rosco cooked earlier. The innkeeper's snores rumbled from upstairs, vibrating the floorboards. Gunner smiled, shaking his head as he wrapped the food in a cloth napkin, picked up a canteen of water, and walked out the door.
A bullet-riddled corpse was sprawled on the ground outside, illuminated by a pair of hovering drones. They circled the vicinity as a rusty robot trudged over, lifted the body, and set it on a wheeled cart. The drones floated upward as the robot nonchalantly pushed the cart away in the direction of the undertaker's building. People walked by without a glance, some even pointing at the bloodstained ground and laughing.
Gunner walked past, making his way to the cage in the town square, where Pablo sat slumped against the bars. Gunner dragged a crate from beside a nearby building and stood on it, stretching up to offer the canteen.
"Wake up, old man. Figured you gotta be thirsty."
Pablo's eyes dragged open. "Gunner. You shouldn't be here. You saw the cameras, didn't you? They watch everything. They're watching right now."
"Let 'em watch. I told you I wasn't gonna get you outta any more scrapes, and I meant it. Didn't mean I'd let you die of thirst."
Pablo accepted the canteen, tipping it back and taking careful swallows. Wiping his whiskers, he glanced down. "Gracias, amigo."
"Yeah. Can't say I didn't warn you, Pablo. You could be sleeping in your village right now, instead of being locked up like a dog in a cage."
"You don't like my accommodations? The view is better than most of the boarding homes and hotels around here."
"Very funny. Here, I brought you some grub too."
"Very generous of you. So, you've seen the Town up close now. What do you think?"
"It's dirty."
"Yes, it is — a terrible place. You should leave as soon as possible. This air in this place is infectious."
"The folks here don't look like they're sick, Pablo."
"No? Then you're not looking closely enough. I'm not talking about the air we breathe, although that's foul as well. I'm talking about the spirit of this place. The Holy Word speaks truly when it describes such people as lovers of self, covetous, boastful, haughty, blasphemers, disobedient, unthankful, disloyal, without natural affection, trucebreakers, without self-control, prideful, lovers of pleasures instead of lovers of God. This spirit spreads like a contagion, infecting all who dwell here. You would do well to forget what you lost and escape this place before it's too late."
Gunner snorted. "You just described every frontier town, every major city, and every Haven in the Territories. May as well leave the world behind if you're trying to escape the evils of society."
"Exactly."
"Exactly what?"
"Leave the world behind. It's not impossible."
"You sure I gave you water, old man? Because you sound like a man taken with whiskey."
"Wisdom from God appears as foolishness to the eyes of men. But again, we're talking about a state of mind. Jesus Christ himself said that his followers would be no part of the world just as he was no part of the world."