Low Budget Productions Proudly Presents,
A Starfall Comics Comic:
Swamp Patrol
#23: Deep In The Heart of Texas
Continuity Breakdowns, part six
cover: A classic western village is menaced by a tyrannosaurus as a pteranodon flies overhead. Brontosauri, stegosauri, and even an ankylosaurus can be seen in the background, which is a bright jungle in marked contrast to the dusty town in the foreground. At the centre of the town, looking up at the dinosaurs in question, are eight human forms, dwarfed by the reptiles. The caption in the bottom right corner says, "EVERYTHING's bigger in Texas!"
"You folks aren't from around here," the bartender asked as the seven of them sat down at the bar.
Pete chuckled, looking from the locals' Old West-style garb to his jeans shirt and slacks. "What was your first clue?"
The bartender grunted. "As long as your money's good, I don't care where you're from," he said, polishing a glass. "Other folks may not feel the same, but that's for them to deal with. Show me the colour."
"The colour?"
"The colour of your money," the bartender explained. "We get all kinds here."
Frank reached into his pocket but came up empty; the other six did likewise.
"Hm. Well, business has been good, and you're obviously in a fix. First one's on the house." The bartender began pouring something brown and fizzy into glasses. "After that, you'll have to work for them. One thing we don't cotton to here in Pavillion is do-nothings."
Frank glanced at Ted. "Some of us aren't old--"
The bartender shook his head. "It's sarsaparilla," he said. "That's why it's free. Good stuff, though." He leaned closer. "Helps ward off the silent killers. Now," he continued, returning to his original position and volume, "what brings you to Pavillion?"
"We're not sure," Frank said.
The bartender nodded. "Castaways."
"Of a sort."
"Came in on the Gilded Danish, no doubt?"
Frank nodded. "How did you know?"
"They're the ones that bring us the castaways, more often than not," he explained. "Most everyone else thinks twice before picking up flotsam in the Void."
A terrible howl ripped through the air outside the saloon, vibrating the walls and making the glasses tremble in place on the shelves.
Pete drank some of his sarsaparilla and cleared his throat. "Any idea how we can get back home?"
The bartender shrugged. "Depends on where it is," he said. "And how you want to get there."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, pal, this is a saloon, not an information booth, so I'll make it short." Another roar sent a glass toppling from the shelf, and the bartender caught it before it hit the ground. "There are a lot of places you could come from, a lot of places that border on the void. And nobody who comes here is ever clear on how they did it." He replaced the glass. "More to the point, anyone who gets out of here can't make it back to tell us how. For all we know, it could be as simple as going for a swim." He paused. "Or going out to drown. No way for us to know. Now, will you be looking for work?"
"Doesn't seem like we have much of a choice."
The bartender chuckled. "Well, you could always try your luck back out in the void." He shrugged. "You may wind up right back where you started."
Frank looked at the others. "I think we'll have to talk it over," he said.
"Fine by me. If you do decide to stay and work, let me know. Bartending isn't glamourous, but it's a lot safer than working the ranches out there."
As if to punctuate his comment, there was another reptillian shriek, this time followed by the screams of a man in torment.
The seven friends left the bar and grabbed an empty table near the back of the room, where they could speak in private.
"Anyone else sick and tired of this?" Donna asked.
"Of what?" Frank replied.
"Everything. All of this -- " Her gesture seemed to encompass all of time and space. "Mole men. Supervillains. Mutants. Pirates. Mental institutions. Come on, I can't be the *only* one of us who wishes none of this had ever happened. Or has no idea what's going on."
Everyone nodded or grunted in agreement.
"The thing is," Frank said, "there isn't really much that we can do about any of it."
"And that's just it! We can't do anything about any of this. We're just shuttled from one thing to another like we're stuck on a bullet train whose doors won't open." She sighed. "I almost want to start working here," she said, "just because then at least I'll have some semblance of control over what's going on in my life. Until the next time the rug gets pulled out from under me."
"And that's just it," Brill countered. "How long would that be? An hour? A day? The rest of your life? Me, I can't live like that. I want to get to the bottom of whatever it is that's behind this, and I have a hunch that whatever it is, it's out there -- in the Void."
"I'm with Brill," Frank said. "This is the sort of mystery we got together to solve, and--"
"No it's not."
Frank turned to his brother. "What do you mean, Ted?"
"I mean that this is definitely not the sort of mystery we got together to solve. We got together to help out Inspector Carruthers when his family was kidnapped by corrupt members of the city government and police force, remember?"
"Right, and--"
"And then we had run-ins with that Black Cat girl, and the computer guy, and then everything went to Hell in a handbasket. Redemption, and that Michael character, and--"
"That's it!" Donna interrupted. "Redemption -- he had these illusion powers, right? Michael said he shorted them out, but if something went wrong -- if those powers slipped out of Redemption's control rather than just shutting off, it's possible this is all a result of that."
"It is," Frank said.
"In which case, this is all in our heads. Not out there, but in here." She tapped a finger on the side of her head for emphasis. "And we need to figure out a way around that."
"This goes way beyond anything Redemption showed he could do," Ted said.
"But it's still something to consider," Frank said. "The way I see it, we have numerous options in front of us right now. We'll have to decide which one is the best to pursue."
"Why?" Janice muttered.
"Excuse me?" Frank said, turning to her.
"Why do we have to decide something like that? We're all individuals -- we can make up our minds as individuals. We haven't exactly been doing a good job of things as a group lately."
"Well, what do you suggest?"
"I don't suggest anything. I'm going to decide for myself what I want to do; you can all do what you want." She stood up from her chair and walked over to the bar, where she conversed with the bartender in a low tone.
"She's right," Shelly said, addressing the group. "I'm going to try to get home, and I'd like help, but I won't hold it against you if you decide to stay."
The four young men and one other young woman exchanged glances.
"I don't know," Ted said.
"I'm with you," Frank said to Shelly.
"Me too," added Brill.
"I'm staying with Ted," Donna said. "Whatever he decides." To his questioning look, she said, "That's what best friends do, right?"
Frank looked at Pete. "What about you?"
Pete shrugged. "I'll figure something out."
At that point, the saloon doors swung inward and the sunlight outside silhouetted a large man in the doorway.
"I'm looking for Omen," the silhouette drawled.
"Omen ain't here," the bartender retorted. "Ain't nobody here, except these new kids."
"I didn't say I was looking for Nobody. I'm looking for Omen." The silhouette entered the saloon proper, resolving into a man with a tanned and pitted face covered in four days' growth, a cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, a dirty-looking cigarette hanging from his mouth. "When I come looking for Nobody, I won't bother announcing myself." He pulled up to the bar and leaned against it. "Now, where's Omen?"
The bartender shrugged and filled a glass with whiskey. "Damned if I know, Tex," he said, handing the newcomer the glass. "Man has a way of turning up when he's needed, disappearing when he's not."
Tex scowled and downed his drink in one shot. He then turned his attention to Janice, as her friends got up from the table and came over to join her. "You're new," he said, half-question, half-answer.
She nodded. "Yes."
"You joining up at the ranch?"
She shrugged. "I'm thinking about it."
"You shouldn't, kid, not while you've got your looks. Those buggers'll tear a hole in you the size of your fist and not even think to look at ya while they're doing it."
"The ranchers?"
"The lizards! The God-damned lizards. The ranchers've got better things to do, like try and stay alive more than a week."
"Don't listen to him," the bartender said, placing another glass on the counter. "He's just bitter that they're bringing his business down."
Janice raised an eyebrow. "What do you do, Mr...?"
"Tex. Jedediah Tex," the man answered, then finished his glass in one shot. "What do I do? It's real simple, lady -- I kill people." He stared hard at her for a second, and the bartender burst out laughing.
"Never one to beat around the bush, eh, Tex?" he howled. "You'll scare away all my new customers."
Tex spat noisily into a nearby spitoon. "I'm the only customer you need," he said.
"If you ever paid your tab, sure. Another?"
"Yeah. I can still see seven of'em."
"There are seven."
"I know. I don't wanna see any of'em."
As the two men continued their exchange, Janice and the others returned to their table.
"So much for that," Janice said as she sat down.
"What were you talking to him about?" Frank asked.
"Getting a job at the ranch. But if what this other guy says is true..."
"You might want to take your chances with the rest of us?"
She grinned wryly. "Yeah."
"Well," Frank said, slapping the table, "we might as well go exploring..." The gang stood up and headed for the door; just as they passed Tex and the bartender, a small black cat came slinking under the shutter doors and into the saloon. It passed in front of them and hopped up onto the bar to curl up beside Tex.
"See?" the bartender remarked to Tex as the Swamp Patrol left. "He shows up sooner or later."
As the seven of them stepped out into the brilliant light of day, they could hear sounds other than the screams of reptiles in the distance. It was the shouts of humans, the firing of pistols, and the charge of horses in their direction. Before they could move to investigate, a quintet of horsemen appeared from around a corner, headed straight for them, shouting and firing their weapons. One of the bullets caught Shelly in the temple.
"Jes--!"
Frank's cry was cut off as Tex emerged from the saloon just long enough to pull the six of them inside.
"You get inside when Nobody's Fools comes to town!" Tex hissed at them. "Don't you know anything?"
"We have to go back out there!" Frank shouted back. "Shelly's hurt, she could--"
"Shelly's dead," Ted said flatly.
"What?"
"He's right," Tex said. "You don't get shot like that and walk it off." He unholstered one of his pistols. "Any of you know how to use one of these?"
Brill held up his hand.
"That's it?"
"They can learn," Brill said. "Do you have enough?"
Jedediah Tex spat. "I always have enough," he replied. True to his word, he managed to pull a half-dozen more revolvers from just the two side-slung holsters he had, handing one to each of the remaining Swampers, and the seventh to the bartender. "Now, Nobody and her men don't usually come into town guns blazing unless they're real fired up on steg liquor, so you want to aim for a kill shot right away if possible -- they don't feel much pain in the state they're in. If it makes it easier for you to kill, then think about your friend out there -- but only if it'll help. You freeze up, you'll be joining her in wherever it is you go when you buy it. Me? I'm in no rush -- you get me killed, I'll be sure to haunt you til the day your sorry carcass has been picked clean by the vultures."
Frank had a hard time not throwing up, and judging by the looks on their faces most of the rest were having similar difficulties.
"So what do we do now?" Janice demanded. "Go out there and fight?"
"No," Tex said. "We stay here, and wait. You don't run out into the middle of a mob unless you're tired of breathing through the holes God gave you."
"We wait?!"
He shot her a cold stare. "You got a better idea, lady?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Didn't think so. We wait, we get the drop on them when they come through those doors -- and rest assured, they will. Now, if you'll listen to me and ol' Bart over there -- " He nodded at the bartender. "-- we'll get you set up in positions."
When Nobody's Fools burst in through the door, the eight of them were ready, and bullets flew through the air like blackflies. They outnumbered the marauders almost two to one, but were sorely outgunned on the experience side, and it didn't take long for that to catch up with them. Ted watched in horror as his friends fell all around him, like a slow-motion action movie sequence brought terribly to life. In the end even Jedediah Tex's skill and limitless supply of bullets wasn't enough, as Nobody -- the woman at the head of the gang and the only one remaining alive from her side -- shot him execution-style, leaving only herself and Ted as survivors.
His gun long out of bullets, Ted dropped it to the floor. If only his powers still worked -- if only he hadn't lost them in the aftermath of his trouble with Redemption and his cult -- the others might still have been alive. He might at least have had some chance of retribution, of taking vengeance on the woman who had orchestrated all their deaths.
Behind the bandanna covering her mouth, Nobody smiled, and it made Ted sick to his stomach.
"Ted," she said. "Ted Stolid."
"You know me?" The shock was almost enough to block out all that had happened.
"Oh yes," she said. "I know you better than anyone. Better than your mother -- that woman who disowned you for what you are. Better than your brother, always trying to force you into what he thinks is best. Better even than yourself -- your poor, confused, conflicted self. Oh yes, I know you very well, Ted. Arsenal." She holstered her gun.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name," she said, removing the bandanna to reveal a familiar but unplaceable face. "Is Jaime." She smiled, and her smile seemed to grow and swell until it filled all of existence. "But you can call me God."