1
The Professor, the Fighter, and the Cowboy

 

Osbert bounded down the alleyway as fast as his stubby legs could carry him while he shoved a piece of baguette in his mouth. Hot John (a bulky man with a mallet where his hand should be) ran ahead of him carrying a plastic garbage bag over his shoulder.

“Hey. I think this soup’s got a leak,” Hot John said.

“Of course it has a leek, Jonathan,” Osbert said. “It’s leek potato soup.”

“So it’s supposed to leak?” Hot John asked.

“Glad to see our time on the run hasn’t changed you. Big and dumb as ever.”

“Guess you know best,” Hot John said. “You took care of me so far anyhow.” He turned around, white goo dripping down his back. “Think you can wipe it off though?”

A police car pulled up at the end of the alley. The siren chirped. Red and blue lights spun around on top. They turned their spotlight on the two thieves.

“This is the Colta City Police Department,” a voice said over a speaker mounted to the top of the police car. “We know yous the guys what stole food from Grace Cathedral. Leave it there and put your hands up. Then walk toward the light slowly. No screwing around.”

“You heard the man, Jonathan. Put them up,” Osbert said, lifting his husky arms above his head.

Hot John smiled then ran at the lights, rearing his mallet hand back to strike.

“Stop or we’ll open fire,” the policeman yelled, but the threat of violence had never stopped Hot John. He screamed like a trapped lion, jumped over the car, and hit the cop upside the head in the time it took him to finish his warning.

Hot John giggled like a schoolboy as he smashed the spinning lights.

“Well done, old friend,” Osbert said. “Let’s continue on our mission. There are no policemen where we’re going.”

“But I kinda like smashing ‘em,” Hot John said.

“And smash you shall, but only in service of the Guild,” Osbert said.

They continued on their way without incident, eventually arriving at a closet-sized metal building tucked back in the wall’s recesses. The door read DANGER — ELECTRIC SHOCK RISK — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. A copper-colored deadbolt hung on the tarnished metal door.

“Uh, I think this is the place,” Hot John said.

“Well then by all means get us in there. I’m positive if I can find my old notes we’ll find a way to rescue our comatose chairman.”

“Who?” Hot John asked.

“Andrus,” Osbert said, his thick glasses magnifying his sullen eyes. “The device I’ve developed will help us find our dear Andrus. You haven’t forgotten him already I hope.”

“Oh. Oh, okay, I gotcha. Yeah. Course I remember. I know I ain’t too smart, but I remember pretty good.” Hot John slammed his mallet hand against the padlock, sending it clanging to the ground. He opened the door, revealing a narrow ladder that led down into the darkness.

The men found navigating the narrow shaft a challenge. Hot John’s shoulders were far too wide; Osbert’s middle was similarly disadvantaged. They squeezed down the hole as best they could.

Osbert plopped onto the dirt at the bottom first, listening to the distant sounds of the river as they echoed through the tunnel. He pulled out a pen-sized flashlight, twisting the tip to turn it on. The beam cut through the fog to reveal a long subway tunnel, or the remains anyway. The metal rails were gone, salvaged to sell for scrap decades earlier. The wooden ties remained, putrid dark green moss growing around the sides.

Hot John pulled a broken piece of white fiberglass from the soft dirt. He wiped it off, revealing the word STONEHOUSE in stark black letters. He handed it to his companion.

“We aren’t here to dig through the dirt, Jonathan,” Osbert said, then tossed it aside tossed it aside. He pulled a compass from his pocket then turned around in a circle until he faced southeast. “This way,” he said.

The men walked down the tunnel for several minutes, eventually coming to a cavern with an abandoned subway car. Wisps of smoke floated off a pile of embers on the ground; a fire clinging to the last of its heat.

“I remember this place real good,” Hot John said. “This is where Andrus put Blaze after… you know.”

“It was an unfortunate fate that befell our dear friend,” Osbert said. “Would that he were still with us. We could certainly use his mastery of weapons in our endeavor. How unfortunate Dogboy let him go…”

The subway car shook, and a low groan echoed around the cavern walls. Osbert shushed his partner then pushed him out in front as they crept up to the car. Empty potato chips bags and soda cans were piled around the door.

Osbert gestured for Hot John to lean down then whispered in his ear. “Give them a warning, but if they don’t come out don’t hesitate to use force,” he said.

“You mean I can pound ‘em?” Hot John asked.

“Yes, you can ‘pound them’,” Osbert replied.

Hot John hit his mallet hand against the car’s side three times. “Get out here, or I’m coming in to get ‘ya. You don’t wanna mess with a big guy like me.”

The door slid open. A man in a cowboy costume stepped out. His beard clumped together; the whiskers twisted around themselves in oily knots. His sallow gray skin suggested he wasn’t well. The eyes sunk back in their sockets, corroborating the suggestion.

“Why, Jonathan, it’s Blaze.” Osbert said. “ We thought we’d lost you. We thought you were dead. What happened?”

“Grhhhggg,” Blaze said, exposing the small purple stump: all that remained of his tongue after Andrus cut it out.

Osbert gasped then snapped his jaw shut to protect his own mouth. Blaze’s eyes drifted away as he kicked some dirt on the smoldering fire. Osbert put his hand on his old friend’s shoulder.

“I apologize for my reaction,” he said. “I knew what happened, but I’d never pictured how it would appear in three-dimensional space. Quite gory, but compelling to the academic mind. May I have a closer look?”

Blaze let his jaw hang on its hinge. Osbert shined his flashlight in his mouth, lighting his cheeks up like a Jack-o’-lantern. He pulled the dusty old cowboy over to a rock pile then grabbed his shoulders, guiding him down onto the found furniture.

“Jonathan, give me the food. This man needs sustenance immediately. I’ll take care of him. You go down to Andrus’s office and find that box I told you about earlier and bring it back here. No dawdling.”

“Maybe we should… uh… take a little break first. We been going a couple days. Your stuff ain’t going anywhere.”

“A surprisingly salient point, my brutish chum. You can rest but not for long. Dogboy lived here with us. This is the first place he’ll look if he catches wind of us. We’ll need to find another place to hide out while we gather more resources.”

Blaze jumped up, grabbed a stick off the ground, and scratched out a few letters. C – U – R -L. Osbert glanced over his shoulder as he finished. E – Y – W -O – R – L – D.

“Curleyworld?” Osbert asked, “That little amusement park over by Goodson University? What did they call it?”

“The place where dreams come true,” Hot John sang to the melody from the well-remembered radio jingle.

“Oh, yes. You know that park well, don’t you?” Osbert said to Blaze, who nodded. “Brilliant. Who would think to look for a Guild of Thieves there? Rest up, gentlemen. We’ll take this Curleyworld, by force if necessary, then our real work begins.”

 

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