MERCY

A civilization wrought with greed and infested with the idea that progress required taking nature into their own hands. Scientists resurrected extinct flora and fauna in labs that, once released from captivity, soon replaced links in the food chain. 

Fracking and mining had ransacked the planet continually depleting the ground of any and all valuable deposits. Then it happened. One day in 3019 the seven continents became one again as volcanoes situated all over the world simultaneously erupted and fused the puzzled patchwork globe back together. The strongest survived and found higher ground away from the sea of lava that covered most landscapes. Human life culled to a degree near extinction themselves. Scientists might be obliged to call it a Pangean Realm.

Del Maar pulled his red kerchief over his nose and dipped his brim as a dustdevil whipped through the sparseness that stretched behind himself and the caravan, around to the shifts of volcanic rock that stretched for miles in front of them. Geysers dotted the land like pox marks that spouted off steam after several minutes.

They set up camp for the night near an immense crater lake where long-legged flamingoes dipped their beaks into the water as they fished for volcanic shrimp. The water in the small craters was pure enough to drink as the craters collected vapor droplets that fell from the surrounding geysers unlike large craters fed through underground hotsprings and housed many marine critters.

The sun was an orange coalfire dying in the western horizon as the caravan of two covered wagons halted their teams of auroch in a semicircle at the lakefront a decent distance from the waters edge. A blue schooner carried a family of four and the other a travelling salesman, and across the site was a tumbleweed wagon. 

Inside the tumbleweed wagon sat a girl of no more than twenty with long brown hair strewn about her face and clothed in the habit of a nun. Head to toe and habit were covered in the swill of the pigsty she’d run through to escape him. She hadn’t been faster than his tranqgun. They sting too. She went down like a sack of potatoes and face planted in the swill. She was a wild one and ferocious for her size and had been sleeping off the dose the tranq delivered and was still out of sorts. 

The dying beams of light glinted off his badge like S.O.S. signals which illuminated all his years as an Marshal of the Civil Order of Pangea he’d thought he’d seen it all. It wasn’t as much a sworn duty but his Code to uphold the law and bring in citizens who needed retribution for their crimes. But this girl? It wasn't his job to ask questions, but it was his job to take her to her destination in Caldera on the other side of the crater lake. 

The warrant decreed the one girl, Rinoa Pinker, to be returned to her father JR Pinker and to expect full compensation. He’d been on his way to the far northern coast to walk the cool black sandy beaches, a glass of bourbon on the rocks in hand when his transmitter beeped out a lengthy message of her warrant and her last known location in a convent located in a town called Mercy in the west.

The caravan had settled into the campsite, the wife and mother from the family’s caravan sat before a small fire formed from coal briquettes where she stirred the contents of the iron pot of beans flavored with spices and salt pork that hung above the flames. A simple aroma of a cooked meal evoked fond memories of his Mama when he was a young boy living on his family’s farm. After a hard day's work of mending fences, tending crops, and caring for livestock, a hot meal of beans and cornbread always made the work worth it.

Del dismounted his quagga, Buc, a breed long ago resurrected and bred with quarter horse DNA. He removed the saddle and revealed a golden body beneath that contradicted a darkly striped head and neck, and grey legs and tail. 

He hung the saddle from a corner of the tumbleweed wagon and the commotion disturbed his ward who sprung up from her tranquilliser induced powernap ready for a fistfight, but once realizing where she was she settled with steadying herself against the bars.

Del noticed her rub the spot on her rump where he tagged her with the tranq as she took in her surroundings. Del followed her gaze from the caravans, aurochs, the vast lake, the well worn rode that wrapped around the water and far on the other side lights began dotting the nightscape like static fireflies. 

“Thirsty?” He asked.

His question was returned with an icy glare that would have frozen a sabercat in its tracks. 

“We’ve made acquaintances, but in case that tranq made your mind foggy, I am Del Maar marshaling for the C.O.P. and you have been detained for a warrant for your arrest.” 

Del unlocked a small wooden cabinet built under the belly of the wagon beneath Rinoa's feet. Inside the cabinet it was insulated and nestled on a wire rack were several chilled jars of water and a thick bottle of honey colored liquor. He grabbed a jar, twisted the lid off, took a long swig, and welcomed the cold rush that seeped through him. 

Out of of the corner of his right eye, Del saw Rinoa standing with her habit hiked up as she allowed the cool vapor to caress her bare ankles and feet. He finished the pint off, tightened the lid, and swapped it out for second jar, and locked the cabinet back. 

As Del unscrewed the lid she stared at the jar, lips dry and tongue properly parched by the heat rising from the black rockscape. He turned and held out the jar to Rinoa outside the bars. She reached through the bars and he pulled back the offering with her attention gained. 

His stony gaze locked onto her stormy one and didn’t budge as he said sternly “I usually don’t give courtesy’s to those that wind up within these bars.”  

She nodded and he pushed the pint into her hands which she raised to her lips through the bars and gulped the water down.

“Why?”

“Don’t you mean Thank You?” He leant against the wagon as he wiped his face with the kerchief from around his neck, his gaze fixed on the town across the massive lake.  

“No. I meant why help me when you wouldn’t others that have stood where I am? Because I’m a lady?” Her mouth was a thin line drawn with contempt as she stared through the iron bars at the Calderan lights that danced across the placid waters. 

Del chuckled. “I never called you a lady.” He looked her up and down at the black tunic and scapular. She’d ditched the headdress somewhere between the church courtyard and chicken coop. “Even if you are wearing that getup.” He shook his head.

“What? You got somethin’ against nuns?”

“You ain’t no nun.” He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair slick from sweat and perpetual humidity caused by the surrounding geysers. He knocked the hat against his thigh a couple of times then donned it once more.

“What makes you think that?” She turned away from him and walked to the other corner of the wagon and looked everywhere but in Del’s direction. The boy and girl played a game where one was a grand marshal and one was a yella bellied outlaw. Bang-Bang and the little outlaw grabbed her belly and fell.

“Your warrant says you’d been a runaway and took all the valuables you could carry, seven months ago, but the Sister’s Order of Righteous Truth divulged to me that you'd been there for three.” He saw her whole body stiffen.

“And because I’m a runaway or a thief I can’t be a nun?” She said over her shoulder.

“For one, I haven’t seen you bend a knee or say a Hail Mary since you woke up alive and breathin’. Two, you got a long ways to go to be a Sister.” 

“Yeah, and I bet a lousy cowpoke like you knows all about that sort of thing.” She scoffed and faced him with her arms crossed. A smirk spread across her face.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” His expression darkened as he pushed away from the wagon to unhitch the auroch in its front. He tied a nose bag of feed and hobbled its back legs with rope.

Rinoa’s smirk shifted into a puzzled frown as she watched as the Marshall strode over to the fire where the family and the storekeeper sat gathered around the coalfire enjoying beans and cornbread on thin metal saucers. 

The two children moved closer to hear what mysterious wisdom he could share with them. Eyes filled with admiration they hung on his every word. Rinoa felt the isolation of her tiny prison on wheels and the loneliness it carried with it. How many had the Marshal brought to justice in this very wagon? She sighed and sat down with her back pressed to the bars, a headache from the tranq set in her brow and her stomach growled. She heard his footsteps approach. Del carried a small saucer filled with beans and a slice of salt pork. He eyed her for a moment and then stepped into the coach. He slid open the bean slot and offered her the saucer, a spoon, and a piece of cornbread wrapped in cloth. 

Del sat on the wooden seat as Rinoa ate. 

He didn’t know if she was listening, but spoke anyway.

“When I was a boy, a posse known for pillagin’, murderin’, and all kinds of hellraisin’ came to my family’s farm. They had waited or showed up late in the night. We were asleep in our beds when they kicked in the front door. Before he could get to his gun one shot my Pa right where he lay in bed with mama and dragged me away. I was nine then, and didn’t stand a chance against one of them, much less five. They beat the hell out of me and left me for dead. Set the house on fire and used our livestock for target practice.” His voice trailed off as it followed the ghost of a memory. 

“Someone had seen smoke and came lookin’ and found me bloody, bruised, broken, and surrounded by death. I was a ward of the realm and put in custody of the Sisters of Mercy. They raised me in the convent, fed me, taught me how to read and write.”

The saucer stuck through the slot and Del stood to take it but Rinoa held it firm.

“My apologies for your loss and for my words. Life ain’t fair and you ain’t so lousy.” She released the saucer. 

Rinoa laid on the wagon's floor with her back to him, the fire, the family, and the Calderan Lake. Del kicked his feet up on the rail of the coach box, tipped his hat down, and slept.

The wagon jostled Rinoa awake as it bumped along the uneven path. Behind the wagon the quagga was tethered and walked riderless. Residual effects from the tranq caused her to sleep hours past sunrise. She realized where they were as they rolled past a water tower.  

Rinoa rushed the bean slot that was closed now. She banged on the wood and it slid open. She could see the wagons ahead, town in the distance, and Del held the reins in the coach with boots propped up. Doing his job to cash in that warrant and whatever reward they’d offered. Would he believe her?

“Almost there.” He said with mulled excitement. 

“Del-Marshal, you’ve got to let me go.” 

“I do? Why’s that?”

“I’ve been falsely accused!” She beat on the wooden frame a sob caught in her throat.

“I did run away and steal, I did, but I had to run. I got no one now and if I go back now I may as well be a dead woman walkin’.” 

“I don’t understand. You sayin’ someone wants you dead?”

“Before my Pa died he was a Prospector in Caldera. He’d finally struck gold and found all kinds of minerals and rocks, but he never showed nobody where it was, but me and Mr. Pinker. He knows I know he killed my Pa.”

“So your Pa isn’t JR Pinker of JR Pinker railway?”

“My last name ain’t Pinker, darnit, it’s Jameson. Pinker killed my Pa, Jester Jameson. ”

“Why didn’t you say somethin’ when I served your warrant instead of runnin’ or last night? You expect me to believe that JR Pinker killed your Pa because he struck gold.” He stood and met Rinoa at eye level through the slot and narrowed his eyes as she delved beneath her habit. Strapped to her thigh was a plump pouch. She dumped the three chunks of rock into her cupped palm. 

“My Pa was never a rich man, but he was a hard worker and a man of his faith. He believed in his heart he would strike it rich one day. God willing. No one ever believed him.” 

Sunlight glinted off the pieces of gold, platinum, and silver that Rinoa Jameson held. 

“And this is his will bequeathing to me his land that Pinker has been after for years. He’d love to see me hang after all his failed marriage proposals. See? Rinoa Jessie Jameson.”

Del read the Will in silence. Rinoa watched him intensely, not sure of what to expect.

Del turned and pulled against the reins and the auroch tossed its head, but slowed to a still.

He stepped down and went around to the back of the wagon and unlocked the door. It swung wide open. 

“Looks like you’ll be riding upfront with me, Miss Jameson. We have an appointment with Mayor Parks.”

People stopped in the streets and came outside to gawk as the tumbleweed wagon rolled on through pumice streets lined with shops, a saloon, and other lucrative businesses. 

Caldera was built from the ground up with salvaged materials from cargo containers, ships, and vehicles that survived the reign of fire. Surrounded by tobacco, bean, and corn fields that were irrigated by the lake, Caldera provided the realm with luxuries like whiskey, tobacco, and ethanol for engines and generators.  

Parks stood on the boardwalk of the courthouse that doubled as his home waiting to see what the commotion was about outside. He wiped perspiration from his bald head when the jailwagon stopped in front of him.

“Mayor Parks.” Del nodded. Their paths had crossed many times before.

The rotund man cleared his throat and a reedy tone emitted. “What seems to be the trouble Del?” He gestured inside the courthouse and they followed. 

“Seems a warrant was served to the wrong person. Where is JR Pinker at today?” 

Del presented the Will of Jester Jameson to Parks.

“Well-let’s see..” he adjusted his eyeglasses “he was here earlier. I just- This is a huge accusation to a prominent member of this realm. Murderers are hanged.” 

“Hanged until dead.” A raspy voice called from the doorway. JR Pinker wore a black tailored suit and hat, was freshly shaven and the scent of soap filled the courtroom. His hand rested on the butt of his gun at his waist as he glared at Rinoa and Del.

“You should be hanged for all your crimes, not just my Pa.” Rinoa yelled.

Pinker chuckled, “My offer still stands, Miss Jameson. Why don’t you mosey on down to the bathhouse and clean yourself up and put on that pretty dress I bought you. Your Pa has passed on and you’ll be needin’ a caretaker. A desert rose like you.” 

“I’d rather die than breathe the same air as you, you sidewindin’ murderer.” Rinoa spit at the tycoon's feet in disgust.

Hellfire blazed in Pinker’s brimstone eyes as he went for his six shooter and fired off a doubleshot. One bullet grazed Rinoa's shoulder as Del suddenly pushed her towards the Mayor. Del flipped over a table for cover and shot at the tycoon who hid outside the courthouse door.

Pinker fired off two more rounds at them.

“Parks.” Pinker called out. “I made you Mayor of this whole damn town. Come out now and we’ll discuss this like civil men, nothing will change and we will cover this whole mess up.”

Park's eyes widened and he looked around like a caged animal from Del to Rinoa. He squeezed his eyes shut, whispered a prayer, and crawled out from behind the table. 

“Well, done.” Pinker chided as he pulled the trigger. Park's body sprawled lifeless on the floor. 

“Rinoa, your turn dear.” 

Del stood up and a shot rang past his ear. Pinker pulled the trigger and hammered an empty chamber and his brimstone eyes widened with fear. Del pulled up his colt and unloaded it on the tycoon. Pinker cried out clutched the door frame before he crumpled on the boardwalk.

When Del walked over to Pinker and kicked his lead riddled body, Rinoa clambered from behind the table. They stepped over Pinker and into the sun of the now empty Calderan streets. Del opened the insulated cabinet and removed the jar of brown liquor, he took a swig and passed it to Rinoa.

“Thank you, Del. I know it was your job but I appreciate all you did for me. It will be strange without you round here but I’m sure you’re ready to get me out of your hair.”

Del took a swig of the bourbon and leant against the tumbleweed wagon.

“Ever been to the north-coast? Ebony beaches and seventy-eight degrees year round? Habits are optional.”