A bullet whanged off a hinge on the wagon.
Will drew and fired from the hip. A man cried out, stumbled down an alleyway between two clapboard buildings.
"Not bad shootin'." From Talie.
"I'm getting better, gradually," Will replied.
He moved around the back of the wagon, looked at the sheeted object, a good few feet taller than he.
"I'm ready to roll."
With that, smiling, he reached with both hands and threw back the canvas with a quick, dramatic flourish!
What looked like a silvery metal pipe organ, made up of pipes only, stood there, gleaming in moonlight. It sat upon a heavy looking circular, black cast-iron pedestal or base. The tubes all had ventilated ribs running along them. Talie looked on, puzzled. She'd never seen the like.
"What're you fixin' to do with that?"
He grinned as he inspected the peculiar apparatus. "Cause a fuss."
He then took a rectangular, flat black box with two round holes in its face, top and bottom, out of an inside jacket pocket. Raising it to his own face he spoke into the bottom hole. "Steve, Will, I'm ready an' waitin'. But they're comin' in on a lot of horses. I'd rather not involve them."
Stoodark's voice, clear as crystal, came out of the top most hole. "That's fine, Will, I'm with you on that. Robert, did you hear that, can you maybe send Rex out to give 'em a scare?"
They both heard the Monster Hoodlum's voice then. "Okie Dokie boys, I'll do that."
Will held the box up to Talie's view, before putting it away. "Marty made 'em. In collaboration with Berinstein Communications out East. Steve calls 'em tin cans without the string but Marty wants them known as Walking Talkers. Magic in situations like this."
From out near the cloud of dust a huge, echoing roar tore the night apart. The kind of unearthly sound that informed a hackles-raised listener that they did not want to meet the originator of such a noise.
"I'm tippin' when their horses get out of hand most of the gang will come in fast on foot. They're not that far away now. Rex will take a token few. Give 'em incentive to come to town."
The Widow's Peak eyed the machine. "Is that another one of Marty's?"
Will had taken a seat on a padded stool connected to what she was realizing must be the back of the - whatever it was. "Nuh, we got it made for us by 'Gordon & West Munitions & Devices' out of Washington. They're two ex Secret Service guys, the company owners. On completion of tests they named it 'The Reaper'.
"Costly?"
"Free. Steve's got connections. But we had to take an oath to only use it on bad guys."
A roar of male voices now, close to the town, multiples of gunshots too. You could see the wave of raiders coming in.
From out of Will's jacket - Monster Hood's voice. "Fifty to sixty mean hombres, comin' at ya."
Will grinned. "Huh, they're doin' a rebel yell charge, straight up the middle. Ideal."
Talie briefly perused the array of differently lengthed cylinders, around thirty or more set in a concentric circular pattern.
"Looks like you could play a tune on it."
The attack party, at the charge, were clearly visible now.
Will patted the odd machine. "Oh, I can play a concerto, a whole opera, on this."
He pulled a polished wooden lever at the back there, and the main frame of the machine, the device, slowly, smoothly tilted downwards. Talie noted the raised, thin luminous metal spikes atop some of the barrels. She recognized that the spikes had been coated with the stuff that Marty called radium paint, which he sometimes used himself for various purposes. Will checked the angle, adjusted the height of the stool he sat upon, stopped the main frame when all the cylinders were pointing at the yelling mass, close to two hundred yards away now.
"Though it's more like fireworks," Will added as he plugged his ears with two wax pellets. He tossed Talie a fresh ball of wax.
His hands curled around walnut pistol grips stemming from the back end of the machine before him. He glanced at her. "You might wanta step back and block your ears."
The charging, firing horde could obviously see them now. All Big C killers, all armed, all with blood in their eyes.
Bullets kicked up dirt twenty feet from the wagon -
'Eagle Eye' Elliott licked his lips,
ten feet -
took a deep breath...
Talie stepped towards the front of the wagon, arrow ready, but feeling she wouldn't need it for a while.
Dirt exploded upwards around the wagon now - lead sliced through the air nearby them -
Five seconds later Will pulled both triggers -
All the barrels blazed simultaneously and kept blazing as the whole array rotated briskly in a clock-wise direction.
The noise was thunderous, drowning the yells and the shots of the attackers. Foot long bottles of red and yellow flame constantly flared from each of the multiple of sleek tubes, as a veritable horizontal hail of .45 calibre projectiles sprayed from each barrel in murderous synchronicity towards the charge.
Empty shell casings were spat out hot in continuous velocity from vents in each side of the machine's body, flung clear, twenty yards or more. The concealed spiral ammunition belt, housed under the machine, was slowly turning like the coils of an oiled serpent.
Not one member of the Big C charge got within fifty yards of the wagon. Men dropped in waves, many roars converted to screams by high velocity lead. They were physically pushed back, chipped to bloody pieces by the non-stop mutilating .45 swarm. Men at the back, spattered and blinded by the violent blow-back of their predecessors' annihilations, didn't even have time to flee. Will tapped a foot pedal with one boot and the rate of fire accelerated; the barrels whirling like a hellish Catherine wheel, the whole sounding like one continuous, bellowing shot. Void cartridges lay in the dirt by the thousands.
Talie saw now that the metal spikes atop some of the barrels were sight markers, to help home the flood of shots in on targets.
When portions of the gang split and broke to either side, running, Will would smoothly rake the gun left or right on its turret mount, and it would continue nattering away - 300 rounds per winnowing minute chasing and catching and chewing men to mincemeat.
Fascinated, Talie had wandered forward a little. A spent cartridge case struck her hard in the temple and she flinched back, rubbing at the small, quick brand she'd been given.
Will stopped the gun, looked at her, kill passion big and alive in his face. "Was I not clear enough? Get Back!"
She bridled. "I-"
The gun stuttered into action again, drowning her out.
She got back.
Neither Will, nor she, noted the two Big C men creeping up from behind.
To Be Continued...
http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=QUhUAa3y4rE
