SCENE TWO: THE COLORADO SPRINGS MASSACRE
Griffin ran around the perimeter of the compound, staying close to the treeline, and eventually took up a position on a fallen log. From there, he was confident he could ambush the approaching rider. He grabbed a stout branch and held it ready, crouching low to the log.
Soon enough the doomed rider came past. Griffin held still and quiet, and just as the horse stopped and snorted, he swung his makeshift club at the rider’s nose. The guard swooned backwards in his saddle, then started fumbling for his pistol.
"Help!" The guard managed to clear his holster and fire a warning shot.
"F---," said Griffin.
"F---," said his comrades, back at the entrance to the camp.
To his credit, the guard took aim at Griffin’s club. Before he could fire, Griffin tossed it away, laughing.
"What are you gonna do now?" said Griffin, his voice suddenly coming from just behind the guard’s shoulder. "I'll tell ya: You’re gonna die…"
Griffin clubbed the guard with both fists, hard across the back of his neck, and hauled his limp body off the horse. The horse bolted off into the trees.
Griffin thought for a moment about pursuing the horse, but the sounds of stirring in the camp soon set him back into action.
"Let me just get the goods off this corpse…" he muttered to himself.
The guard let out a slow, ragged, breath. Not quite dead yet.
Annoyed, Griffin pulled the guard’s knife out of his belt-- and made him a corpse.
He grabbed the pistol and set off at a low, loping pace for the compound.
-----
The rest of the group wasn’t about to sit idle, not while they had their own chance to throw their ill-formed plans even deeper into the crapper.
"Wait here!" West pulled out his badge and marched into the camp like he owned the place.
"Intruders!" he yelled at the guard emerging from the guardhouse. "You’ve got intruders in the camp."
That was true enough, and the guard had no difficulty believing it. "What do we do?"
"You got weapons in this place?"
The guard nodded, eager to comply and be commanded. "Yeah, we lock em up in the storehouse at night. I got the key."
"Well, let’s go then!"
West tailed the guard out of the guardhouse and into the midst of the compound. They passed a long, low building ("Barracks," West thought to himself, "doors at both ends…") and turned the corner to find a smaller building. The guard fumbled with the key only a moment before throwing the door open and stepping aside for West.
West peeked in. It was a small shed, filled with barrels and racks of rifles. It was close to the barracks, too—only five feet from the other door of the barracks.
"Help me out here a second," he said, entering the building. The guard followed him in.
"Who are the intruders?" he asked.
"Ahh…" West said. Before he knew it, his bluff was unraveling.
The guard looked suspicious for just a moment—then looked past West, his eyes widening in surprise.
A rifle lifted itself off the rack and buried itself, bayonet first, in his gut. He dropped to his knees and screamed. The bayonet twisted and pulled free.
"The intruder!" West yelled, pulling his gun and firing a shot wide of the rifle.
"Help!" the guard yelled. He fumbled his own gun into place and fired his own wild shot.
The floating rifle laughed, and it was soon joined by a floating bullet. The rifle opened its breech, and the bullet floated in. The breech complied, twisted, and slammed shut. The guard’s last thought, as the rifle planted itself against his forehead, was that the rifle and that scheming bullet were clearly in this together.
And Griffin blew his brains out the back of his head.
"Great!" yelled West. "Just great!"
The rifle dropped to the ground.
"You’re the only one in here," said Griffin, still chuckling. "Let’s see you bluff your way out of this one…"
"Son of a bitch!" West slammed the door shut. "Help me out here, Griffin!"
There was no reply. "You bastard!" West struggled to move one of the barrels against the door, decided it was probably gunpowder, and quickly abandoned that plan.
"Griffin, you bastard…" he muttered.
"The bastard’s still here," Griffin said. A rifle floated off the rack, loaded itself, and lay down across one of the barrels at the back of the small room. "Why don’t you give me a hand here and load some of these guns? We’re gonna need them in about… 6 seconds."
"Mina said not to kill anybody…"
"Uh huh."
There seemed to be a whole lot of shouting going on outside. West checked his pistols, and started loading rifles.
-----
After the second gunshot, the rest of the group pretty much gave up on any hope of salvaging what should have been a simple infiltration. Nemo sighed and unwrapped the bundle he’d been carrying. Jekyll couldn’t tell what it was, but from the way Nemo was brandishing the thing, it was clear which was the unpleasant end. Nemo sighted down an array of barrels and checked that each had a miniature harpoon loaded and peeking out.
"Ohh, dear Lord," said Jekyll.
"Easy Henry…" said Mina. "Everything’s gonna be ok…"
"I hope everything’s gonna be ok," she thought. She looked over at Quartermain, who had his own elephant gun loaded and ready. "Just don’t… look, don’t kill anybody innocent."
Quartermain looked at Nemo. Nemo looked at Quartermain. They both looked at Mina and nodded.
Then they ran into the compound, guns at the ready.
-----
West and Griffin had loaded just a few of the rifles when they heard the key turn in the lock.
On the outside.
They were trapped, but West wasn’t about to approach the door. From behind a barricade of powder kegs, he strained to hear the conversation outside.
"… got all the rifles…"
"Colonel’s comin’..."
-----
Quartermain headed left around the guard house. Most of the guards were either looking or exiting through the rear of the barracks, away from him. He crept forward at his first chance, tossed his gun onto the roof, and pulled himself up.
He peeked over the top:
The guards had someone locked in the guardhouse.
Mina was running flat out into the compound, yelling, "Don’t kill anyone! Don’t kill anyone!"
Jekyll was running after Mina’s skirts.
Nemo had stopped to look into the guard house and, satisfied that no threat was at their backs, was now walking slowly around the right side. Nobody seemed to see him—yet.
And there was the Colonel, no doubt, with two shotgun toting guards just behind him.
"What in the hell is going on!?" the Colonel bellowed.
His guards brandished their shotguns: One pointed directly at Mina. One pointed directly at Dr. Henry Jekyll.
Mina, to her credit, was as cool as ever.
Henry was staring down double barrels of death.
For those of you who haven't been keeping track, we only *just* got started on Scene 2, out of 5 (plus pro- and epilogue). Lots more pulpy goodness to come.
Classical Griffin moment, that one!
