Read Online The Nail and the Oracle by Theodore Sturgeon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Theodore Sturgeon
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faro games, as well as any talking and drinking and moving around that happened to be going on, really did stop, suddenly and altogether. Macleish paid no mind to anyone, but walked straight back to the stairs and went up them two at a time.
Somebody shouted then, but the sound was drowned out by the crash of the door as Macleish shouldered it half off its hinges and stood back.
He could see the desk and the lamp and the gray-headed man, his bright blue eyes all white-rimmed round. The man scooped open a drawer and Macleish drew and shot him through the right forearm and sprang inside.
The gray-headed man shrieked like a woman and curled up like a mealworm bit by a fire ant. Macleish stood in the center of the room, snapped a look to left, to the right. The beery man and the kid stood flat-footed by the end of the desk. Macleish made a motion with his gun and their hands went up as if they had been tied to the same string. Macleish slipped around behind them and got their guns. He threw the guns out through the draped window behind the desk.
He said, “Face the wall,” and they were very brisk about doing it. The gray-headed man had fallen and was writhing on the floor behind the desk, crying. Macleish backed around there and booted him out in the open where he could see him. Then he pulled down a drape and put two straight chairs back to back and threw a couple of half-hitches around the uprights at one side. He said, “Come here,” and the two gunmen turned uncertainly and came sheepishly across to him. “Sit,” he said.
Back to back they sat down. Keeping his gun on them, Macleish circled them twice with the drape, binding them tight to the chairs and to each other. He didn’t bother to tie the free end, but just tucked it into itself; it would hold for as long as he wanted it to. He put his gun down on the desk and placed one hand on the kid’s face and one on the beery man’s face, and whanged the backs of their heads together as hard as he could. When you crack one nut with another nut, practically every time only one of the two will break, and Macleish thought that that gave odds that neither one of these two deserved.
Macleish heard someone running, and he glanced at the door and found it full of frightened faces. He waved his gun at them and they disappeared. He jumped to the door and flattened himself just inside. The running feet ceased and became a deep growl: “Out o’ my way!” and Brannegan exploded into the room just the way he himself had. Macleish hit him alongside the head with his gun and he threw out his arms and went forward to his hands and knees, his head hanging. Macleish bent, hooked out his gun, and sent it sailing throughthe window with one motion. Then he got hold of Brannegan’s left wrist, pulled the man kneeling upright, and twisted the arm around and up, meanwhile ramming his gun barrel into Brannegan’s kidney. “Up!” he said, and Brannegan stood up. Macleish walked him through the door. There were people out there but they made way.
Macleish brought Brannegan to the top of the stairs and gave him a push and such a fine kick that everyone in the place gasped, including Brannegan, who went out and down like the front end of a rockslide. Macleish bounded down after him and tried to stand him up with the bent-arm thing, but Brannegan couldn’t cooperate. Macleish waved his gun and said to throw water on him.
“Yes,
sir!”
said the bartender, shuffling fast around the end of the bar, bringing a big pitcher. Macleish, waiting, moved gun and eyes all around. Everybody watched. Nobody moved.
The water made Brannegan twitch and groan. Macleish snatched up Brannegan’s ring hand and caught it between his knees. Looking all around while he did it, he got the ring off Brannegan’s finger and put it on his own. The water helped. Then he wrung Brannegan’s left hand around behind him and told him “Up!”
Macleish walked him the length of the bar to the batwings, and then
Somebody shouted then, but the sound was drowned out by the crash of the door as Macleish shouldered it half off its hinges and stood back.
He could see the desk and the lamp and the gray-headed man, his bright blue eyes all white-rimmed round. The man scooped open a drawer and Macleish drew and shot him through the right forearm and sprang inside.
The gray-headed man shrieked like a woman and curled up like a mealworm bit by a fire ant. Macleish stood in the center of the room, snapped a look to left, to the right. The beery man and the kid stood flat-footed by the end of the desk. Macleish made a motion with his gun and their hands went up as if they had been tied to the same string. Macleish slipped around behind them and got their guns. He threw the guns out through the draped window behind the desk.
He said, “Face the wall,” and they were very brisk about doing it. The gray-headed man had fallen and was writhing on the floor behind the desk, crying. Macleish backed around there and booted him out in the open where he could see him. Then he pulled down a drape and put two straight chairs back to back and threw a couple of half-hitches around the uprights at one side. He said, “Come here,” and the two gunmen turned uncertainly and came sheepishly across to him. “Sit,” he said.
Back to back they sat down. Keeping his gun on them, Macleish circled them twice with the drape, binding them tight to the chairs and to each other. He didn’t bother to tie the free end, but just tucked it into itself; it would hold for as long as he wanted it to. He put his gun down on the desk and placed one hand on the kid’s face and one on the beery man’s face, and whanged the backs of their heads together as hard as he could. When you crack one nut with another nut, practically every time only one of the two will break, and Macleish thought that that gave odds that neither one of these two deserved.
Macleish heard someone running, and he glanced at the door and found it full of frightened faces. He waved his gun at them and they disappeared. He jumped to the door and flattened himself just inside. The running feet ceased and became a deep growl: “Out o’ my way!” and Brannegan exploded into the room just the way he himself had. Macleish hit him alongside the head with his gun and he threw out his arms and went forward to his hands and knees, his head hanging. Macleish bent, hooked out his gun, and sent it sailing throughthe window with one motion. Then he got hold of Brannegan’s left wrist, pulled the man kneeling upright, and twisted the arm around and up, meanwhile ramming his gun barrel into Brannegan’s kidney. “Up!” he said, and Brannegan stood up. Macleish walked him through the door. There were people out there but they made way.
Macleish brought Brannegan to the top of the stairs and gave him a push and such a fine kick that everyone in the place gasped, including Brannegan, who went out and down like the front end of a rockslide. Macleish bounded down after him and tried to stand him up with the bent-arm thing, but Brannegan couldn’t cooperate. Macleish waved his gun and said to throw water on him.
“Yes,
sir!”
said the bartender, shuffling fast around the end of the bar, bringing a big pitcher. Macleish, waiting, moved gun and eyes all around. Everybody watched. Nobody moved.
The water made Brannegan twitch and groan. Macleish snatched up Brannegan’s ring hand and caught it between his knees. Looking all around while he did it, he got the ring off Brannegan’s finger and put it on his own. The water helped. Then he wrung Brannegan’s left hand around behind him and told him “Up!”
Macleish walked him the length of the bar to the batwings, and then
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