“Mom wouldn’t like you ignoring me.” Silence. “You should be flattered I based a character off of you.”
Matt dropped the boards he was carrying beside the carriage, the clatter and thunking echoing through the tight alley. He side-eyed his brother before kneeling to return to his project. Fixing an old west carriage with a Hydra bite.
He tries to do something nice for his free-loading, head in the clouds younger sibling. And his reward? Being trapped in that same brother’s novel in a town with no electricity or indoor plumbing. He wanted out.
Now.
Greg shuffled in the sand. “We need to leave the carriage you know. Alex Remington catches onto the egg because he sees the hole.”
Matt shot to his feet and turned on him.
Greg shifted back, glasses sliding down his nose.
“I’m getting 60 silver pieces to fix this thing before morning,” Matt growled. “That’s shelter and maybe a decent meal for once.”
“But the–”
“I don’t care about the story! We belong in the 30th century with hologram clocks, mind-reading computers, and electric cars that break down once a month!” Dust kicked up underneath his feet when he slid and dropped beside the carriage. “I could care less if Alex Remington finds that stupid egg.”
Putting the board against the hole, he measured and marked the wood. He’d scored a tool bag from the local ferrier with a hammer and nails and finagled a small saw from some scrap. A nearby farmer would’ve been more helpful, but Greg didn’t write any within their proximity.
Matt hammered the boards into place while Greg knelt beside him. “I’m sure if we follow Alex and finish the story, we’ll get let out of the book.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” Matt split the wood with how hard he hit the nail, but this deadline wouldn’t allow for redos. “You don’t think he’ll find it odd to see a guy exactly like him?”
“He might be flattered.”
“You forget you based him off me.”
Greg grew quiet.
Matt finished nailing on the board before turning to his brother. “You must’ve written a nice cabin someplace where we can just die in peace.”
Greg’s eyes were impossibly wide, pupils nearly touching the tops of his eyelids. His skin paled with every second.
The click of a revolver stabbed Matt’s ears. “Don’t know about dying in peace, mate.”
Matt dropped his hammer and lifted his hands.
Greg’s nose twitched as his breath quickened.
“Relax,” Matt whispered.
“Shut up.”
“I’m talking to my brother, not you.”
The revolver tapped the back of his head. “Get up and turn slowly.”
Matt obeyed. Dust caked his sweaty neck and arms. With the pace of a snail, he faced the revolver.
Alex Remington froze.
Matt shoved the gun out of his hand, grabbed Greg, and ran in the opposite direction.
“Wait! Stop there!”
“What are you doing?” Greg squeaked.
“Trying not to get killed.” Matt shoved into the backdoor of a building.
The barber nicked his client’s sideburn in shock, the man yipping in pain. Murmurs ran through the poorly lit room of mirrors.
The front door slammed, the silhouette of Remington filling the frame.
The brothers ran up the creaky stairs.
The lounge of ladies shrieked, some dropping glasses of wine on the thick carpet. Matt dragged Greg past the luxury mirrors and gilded sofas in hopes of finding an escape route.
Alex rammed into them, all three men landing on the floor. The cowboy in black sat on his knees with a sneer. “Hold on now.”
“Get out!”
Something rammed into Matt’s shoulder. A shoe sat on the floor beside him. The woman threw another one, but he dodged before it hit his head. All the ladies pulled off their shoes and pelted them. A heel smacked Greg’s face while a slipper hit Alex’s back.
Matt raised his hands in surrender while keeping his head low. “Hang on. We’ll get out, promise.”
A horrid screech stopped them in their tracks. Alex wielded a tabby cat like a weapon, face contorted in disgust and uncertainty.
One of the women in a large updo and ghostly white powder demanded, “Release Edward.”
Alex’s expression evened as he held the cat at arm’s length. “I will… once you put the weapons down. That means you with the candlestick.”
The ladies lowered their new ammo, an assortment of teacups, silver candlesticks, makeup, and empty bottles.
Matt helped Greg to his feet and rubbed out the imprint of the heel that’d hit his brow.
Alex hissed at them and nodded toward the back corner.
Greg brightened. “Oh, I forgot about the bookshelf door.” He rushed to the shelf crowded with fine china beside the window.
“The what?”
Alex grinned like a smarmy scoundrel. “We’re not the first guys to look in on you ladies. Just ask Darrell the Teller.” Before they could say anything, he shoved the window open and threw Edward out.
The women squealed at the defenestration and practically leapt to save the tabby.
Matt yanked the shelf open, and the three men ran into a small room. Where there’d been a long mirror along the lounge, the inhabitants of this room could see inside. They also had access to the roof.
The three men clambered up the ladder as screeching and crying reverberated through the whole building. Matt propped open the roof. Once Greg was through, he shut it on Alex.
“We need him,” Greg said.
Matt looked over all the rooftops. “He held a revolver to my head.”
The roof slammed open. “I also saved you, mate.” Alex launched out of the building, closed the opening, and rubbed his reddening nose. “A little appreciation is due.”
A bang preceded the riddling holes in the roof. Whoever was down there cocked the shotgun for another go.
The three men ran and jumped onto the next roof. The boards rattled and bent under their weight. Matt ran to launch onto the next roof. Alex was beside him, grabbing his shirt collar.
Their feet fell through the roof. Bodies slamming into sturdy floors, dust billowed and debris fell onto them. Matt choked on sawdust while Alex groaned his way to his knees.
A door opened and a gasp followed.
Matt rolled despite his sore back. His recent client stood at the edge of the small room holding a box with ornate carvings of monsters. He groaned.
And so the book continues.
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