[Dipstikk]

Chapter 3
Big, Bad Bailey

The trip back up the mountain was a step above a pain in the ass. My sandal broke and I was walking unevenly up uneven land. I had thorns in my feet from when we had to hike through the woods to get to Beakly Bridge.

Chains was pissed at me. I was the gang’s secret weapon, and I had my face on a wanted poster. Bad for the gang, even worse for me. I was the person that the bounty hunters would be hunting.

“Not much further until we reach the plateau! C’mon, you’s mugs!” Chains yelled to the rest of us.

The bridge was fairly new and had once provided a way for Clakker tourists to visit the mountains. Now they’ve been commandeered by the Outlaws as a hideout. Until this day, nobody knew about the hideout. There were suspicions when Clakkerz never returned from their hikes, but not a soul ever wondered what was really going on. Now there would be searches for the Clakkerz that never returned to Birdington.

Of course, the gang knew that all they would find would be corpses.

The hideout was nestled in an old Clakker ranger station that was “seized” when the gang arrived. We passed what I still saw as a gruesome sight. The corpses of trespassers and people that disappointed Bailey (Clakker and Outlaw alike), skewered with pole lances which were planted where the victim stood. White, chalky bones glistened in the sun, picked clean by birds of prey. It was horrid what the gang did to people they despised.

I saw a patch of land near the entrance. That would be where I would go. I tried to imagine Bailey stabbing me from my head, straight to the ground. My bones still hanging there a month later, as white as the ones we passed.

I was doomed to die at the hands of the gang’s boss.

Chains pushed me into the building. The ceiling was completely gone in most of the rooms, due to the Mortar Outlaws having fun with the place.

I stared at him. Bailey “Tiny” Markowitz, one of the biggest Outlaws you’d ever see. People say he’s almost as tall as that guy Elboze Freely that was in the paper recently. He used to be a shrimp of an Outlaw, smaller than Chains even. That was where he got the name “Tiny.” But then, in a twist of fate, or irony, or whatever you want to call it, Bailey had a growth spurt. This was the mother of all growth spurts. He shot up so tall that his head almost reached where the ceiling used to be. As far as I could tell, that was nearly fourteen feet. Bigger than all of us.

Bailey thought highly of himself. He even had a “throne” made out of old crates that he’d sit in when there was nothing for him to do. Which meant, having minions at his beck-and-call, that he didn’t have to do much.

He saw us coming in, and greeted us with incredible calmness. And considering the circumstances, calmness made us all uneasy.

“We-he-hell! If it ain’t mah favorite hostage, come back with a couple-a escourts. How went the trip?” His voice boomed.

We all knew that he knew how the trip went. The nervousness inside of me crept up my back.

“Oh, wait. I think I did hear a little about it,” he said. “Why don’t you come on over, Pugs. Let’s chat.”

I nodded nervously and slowly approached him.

“If you don’t have the purdiest photo face, I don’t know who does,” he said. “Go on, ask me where I see’d ya!”

I knew that if I didn’t say anything, it would make him mad. His calm, collected tone was betrayed by a very violent eye twitch. “Wh-where did you s-see me today, s-sir?”

“Jerry brought me this little trinket from y’all’s visit to Birdington. This here’s your picture on the front of a Wanted poster!”

His voice was so loud that it shook the walls. I was in deep shit.

“I can explain! The Clakker caught me by surprise! I-It was all Barry and Billy-Bob’s fault! They made all of the noise,” I pleaded.

“I don’t want excuses! Because of this, them Odd-damn featherheads is gonna be comin’ up here lookin’ for ya! Every single Bounty Hunter’ll want a piece of ya! Then they’ll come after me!! RAAGH!!”

His fist clenched and quivered. He smashed a crate with one giant forearm. I fell to the floor and back-crawled away from him, hoping to Odd that I wasn’t the next thing he’d use to quell his fury.

Instead, his face went from a clenched grimace to a curled up smile.

“You know what happened to Jackie? He was one of our best snipers. Been part of our group for a while before you got here. Guy could shoot the pupil off of a Thudslug from fifty yards away.”

Funny thing happened to him, though. Somethin’ got in his head that things ‘round here weren’t bein’ run fairly. So he decides he wants to try and take me on. Long story short, guy met an unfortunate death by getting too close to a fan.” he pointed to a rusty old fan on the wall, the blade red with dried blood, and chuckled knowingly.

“And Jeff didn’t like how things was run around here neither, said somethin’ ‘bout me bein’ too…violent? Ah, whatever. Anyway, poor old Jeff found himself getting’ acquainted with his own insides, if you know what I’m saying. Me? Violent? Ain’t that a hoot?”

The Execution Speech. Bailey does it just before they go on one of the pikes outside. I knew Jeff, and I heard the same speech being given to him before he disappeared. And now it would happen to me. I wondered what kind of carving knife he would use…

“But we’s gonna do things a little different this time.” he proclaimed. “Pugs,
get outta my gang.”

“W…what?” I stammered, surprised to still be alive after his speech and not quite understanding what I was hearing.

“You. You’re gone. Outta my hideout. I ain’t gonna soil my hands on yer hide,” he said, calmed down. “Go.”

“But I…” I started, but then I reconsidered my questions and decided to take his advice.

“Hey, wait. Terms of the agreement ain’t been discussed yet.” He said as I was leaving.

As much as I hated the way he said that, it was better to agree to something and have my freedom than to be killed, which I was sure he’d do if I refused. I stopped and turned.

“Nowhere over that way,” he motioned to the entire region of Birdington, and the forests around it. “No, you head that way, towards the desert. You even think of returning to the forbidden zones, I’ll have snipers in the woods ready to shoot yer head off.”

Whatever, Tiny, as long as I can go. “No problem,” I said.

“Go.” he pointed towards a barren place visible from the mountains.

I did as I was told. Finally.

…Freedom.

~~~~~~~~~~<([V])>~~~~~~~~~~

But freedom was not so easily had, because after Pugsley was gone, Bailey had a discussion with a few of his best men.

“Okay, listen up and listen good,” he said to about seven shooters, two flame-throwers and five cutters. “I want you to go out there, follow that butt-stain, an' make damn sure I never hear from his lousy, blunderin’ ass again.”

“But boss,” a shooter said. “You just let him go.”

“I don’t care what I done said a minute ago. Do what I’s sayin’ now. I don’t want him makin’ trouble for us with that bounty slapped on his head. That bastard’ll lead those Clakkerz right to us.”

“Consider him char-broiled, boss.” A Flamer saluted Bailey and motioned for the team to follow in Pugsey’s direction.

~~~~~~~~~~<([V])>~~~~~~~~~~

And there I was. Free as a bird. Off to make a new life for myself in some other region as a law-abiding Outlaw. I loved the timber of that.

I followed a gravel road down the mountain, which would take me to Canyon Pass. Not suprisingly, Canyon pass was so-named because it's just that: a canyon with a road that rests at the base. It was a way for Clakkerz to send and deliver supplies between the four surrounding towns, including Birdington, via wagon train caravans.

There was a map of the area that we would consult before preforming heists, and if I could remember correctly, this road leads to a wide savanna, then to another canyon on the other side with an artificial rise at the end, created by the Clakkerz to provide a quicker route to the town. Just past the rise, maybe about seven miles past it, was the town of Sanderson Flats. That was where I needed to go.

With my destination set, I trudged foreword, hoping to get a warm reception in the town of Sanderson Flats.