Mirror of Love Ch. 02

Althea and I flew across the ocean toward the waterfall portal. It was time to leave this strange world. We changed into our human bodies moments after reaching the ledge. We gazed one last time at the world we were leaving and noticed a bird flying toward us. It was the white eagle. He became human as he landed.

"Bret!" I exclaimed.

His eyes darkened and he clenched his fists. "You're a meddler Dan."

"Maybe," I replied. "Perhaps I don't like the first commandment of love."

Althea and I leaped into the waterfall.

*****************

We crashed against a wooden floor. My head hit something and a black cloud covered my eyes.

I didn't know how long I lay unconscious. Opening my eyes, I saw Althea kneeling over me with brows forming a hood around her eyes. I smiled and her face brightened. I pushed away from the wooden planks and pulled a splinter out of my left hand. Looking behind me I saw the portal -- a large black and white painting of a man and a woman. They looked exactly like us. This adventure was becoming stranger and stranger by the minute.

We were no longer naked. I was dressed in jeans and a checked flannel shirt. A large brimmed cowboy hat pushed over my head. Around my hips were a pair of shiny colt revolvers. Althea was dressed in equally odd attire. A long dress folded over her legs and knees, sprawling over the floor. It reminded me of pictures of a quilt I had seen in an old slide reel from the past. But, it was different somehow. It had no color. All the lines were black and white.

Something odd was happening. Once again the normal laws of Kaligala were modified. I had an uneasy feeling about this place.

"Let's explore!" Althea said staggering to her feet. She gathered her purse. It was the same shape and size as the one she had carried when she left her bedroom a lifetime ago, but this one was leather instead of cloth. And black with little white lines crisscrossing it.

"This must be a dining room," I said. "I can hear some voices from over there." I pointed to a door at the far end of the room.

We crept over to the door and I pressed my ear against it. I heard laughter, tinkling of glass, and the scrape of moving chairs. Slowly I turned the large metal door-knob. It needed oil and squeaked loudly. As a crack of light appeared, I gazed into a large room filled with round tables and chairs. Men sat around the tables with bottles and glasses. A few women dressed in low-cut dresses sat on the laps of various men. Directly opposite my door-crack was a huge mirror. It seemed out of place in the drab and musty room. I wondered how anyone could have fit it though the small swinging doors that led to the outside. A long counter of wooden planks stretched along the entire length of the mirror and stools lined against it. Several men sat at the stools, hunched over the dark counter-top.

"You're a damn liar! You bastard."

The voice was loud and came from the far corner of the room. A huge man stood up, five worn and dirty playing cards in his greasy hand. The man had a huge mane of black hair falling around his face in a way that made him appear like a lion. When he shook his head, the hair bounced up and down and fell across his cheeks. We saw his face as he towered above a table, his eyes resting steady and cold on a smaller man.

The sound of chairs moving and feet pounding grew louder as people raced to the side of the room or out the swinging doors. A quiet descended on the room. The lion-man and his smaller opponent had the place to themselves. Keeping his hands in full view, the smaller man slowly slid his chair back and stood up. He backed up until 20 feet separated the two. They stood motionless for a long time, hands still.

"I never lie," the smaller man said. His voice was quiet and I could only hear it because of the silence that had filled the room.

"You're a liar and a coward."

"And you're a dead man -- a big fat stupid dead man." I couldn't see the front of the smaller man as he spoke these words, but the effect on the giant was obvious. His dark face paled and his hands shook. The playing cards slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor.

I had never witnessed violence before. All my imaginary worlds had elements of danger, but never so raw and deadly. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. It was probably a dream and I was lying peacefully in a bed somewhere. Soon, I would wake up and everything would begin to fade and in a few minutes I wouldn't remember any of it.

But, it felt so real. Yet barbaric. It never happened like this except in stories and dreams.

The large man's hand moved. As if by magic, a gun appeared in the hand of the smaller man. The end blossomed with a flash of light and the large man staggered backward as if an invisible rope jerked him. Two inches below his right pocket, a dark mark appeared. A dark stain spread down the front of his shirt. He fell to his knees and his head hit a chair with a thud before clunking down against the floor.

It was over. The small man gathered some money from the table and after stuffing it in his pocket, he walked slowly to the swinging doors. Then he was gone.

"I'll be back!" I yelled at Althea before racing across the room and through the doors.

I couldn't see him at first. Then, I saw a man in a leather coat turn a corner into an alley. I followed. When I rounded the corner, I saw him leaning against a building. He was coughing and something spilled from his mouth. As I neared the man, the sweet bitter smell of vomit hit me. I put my handkerchief to my nose. The motion alerted him and he spun toward me with his hand on his gun.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"What do you want?" The man wiped his mouth using a white handkerchief clutched in his left hand. His right hand rested casually over his revolver.

I wasn't sure what to say. He looked at me with this calm expression, but I could feel the tension that lay just under the surface.

"I don't know what I want. I've never seen anyone killed before." I paused for a second. "I guess I wanted to meet you to see how it felt."

"Well, now you know, don't you." His face twisted into a grin. "The great Jack Slaughter throws up after every killing. Can't stand the sight of blood." I noticed such sadness in his eyes. "And there's more too. Sometimes, I want to simply run away and leave town, but I never do." His eyes had a glassy expression as he continued. "I dream of them sometimes. I see this long line of people walking down a path lined with flowers -- gray flowers. For some reason the flowers are always gray. And the people are those I've killed. They stare at me, not with anger or anything, but with no expression at all. It drives me mad. I want them to show their anger, but they show nothing, nothing at all."

He grabbed my shirt and twisted it. "If I killed you, wouldn't you hate me?"

"Maybe the world of the dead has different rules."

"What do you mean, different rules."

"I'm talking about the way things look."

He gazed into the air without focusing. "Yes, everything did look different. The flowers were gray." His face became excited. "And the faces, the dead faces, they were gray too. I wonder what it all means."

"I don't know," I said. "Can I buy you a drink or something?"

He smiled and laughed softly. "You owe me a drink all right. I've never told anyone these kinds of things before." He stared at me for several minutes. "Maybe, I'm losing my edge talking like this to a complete stranger. There is something very different about you."

We walked back to the saloon. As I pushed through the swinging doors, my stomach knotted up. Althea stood against a wall, a tall cowboy pushing against her. Her blouse was gone, her breasts bare to the gaze of all the onlookers. Her skirt was lifted in the air and a dark hand had slipped between her panties. I raced over to the pair and pushed the man's hand away.

"Leave her alone," I said.

He turned toward me, his mouth slightly open revealing dark teeth. His face looked like the surface of the moon with pock-marks and scars. "I saw her first. A woman comes in here she's fair game."

"She's with me."

"Not for long creep." He shoved a hand against me and I fell sprawling. Slowly I got to my feet. The cowboy watched me without moving.

As I stood there motionless, a warmth spread through me. It started at my feet and hands and moved toward my heart and then up to my head. My hands tingled and my head throbbed as if every pulse of my heart was a sledge hammer pounding my temples. I glanced down at my hands. They were shaking. I could feel moisture gather on my forehead and trickle down into my eyes.

I had never felt such anger before. I wanted to leap at this vermin, this pestilence against mankind, this small speck of irritation that needed to be squashed. The thought of leaping at his throat appealed to me until I remembered the shiny colt revolvers strapped to my waist. I eased my hands slowly toward my weapons.

His eyes narrowed and he opened large claw-like hands above his guns.

"Get out of the way!!" I shouted to Althea. She slid along the wall toward a stairway leading to the second floor. Others moved as well until the cowboy and myself were standing alone in the center of the room.

I was eager to get this over with. I had quick reflexes, but had never fired a gun before. How did you do that? I thought that I needed to pull the hammer back and squeeze the trigger. Of course, I would need to get it out of my holster with blazing speed. I was thankful Jack Slaughter wasn't facing me. I recalled his speed and accuracy. This was no game, but the real thing. I needed practice or something. The tall man facing me looked slow, but he had probably been in a fight before. I needed an edge, something to give me a break. My anger was no longer boiling and overflowing, but was cooler like a white-hot lance about to stick this bozo in the heart.

I planned my moves carefully. I would leap sideways as I drew my gun. That might startle him enough so I could get a shot off. At these distances any shot should be accurate enough. But I needed more.

"Have you ever been gut-shot?" I tried to keep my voice calm and matter-of-fact as if I talked like this all the time in my many past gunfights.

He didn't say anything as his eyes narrowed to slits. He was breathing hard, but so was I.

"It's painful. I remember once seeing a man gut-shot. He cried and screamed for over an hour before he finally died." I gave the rock-for-brains a smile of pleasure. If he only knew the terror in my heart. "That's what I'm going to do to you. I love watching a man squirm in pain. Everyone will see what a coward you are, a coward who can only hurt women and not real men."

His hands shook like limp spaghetti noodles. I'd gained my edge. It was time to make my move.

"Hold it, all of you!!" The sound boomed across the empty saloon from the direction of the swinging doors. The bone-head and I both turned toward the voice. A man stood against the doorway with the light shining through his hair. He had a bright star pinned to his left pocket and a double-barrel shotgun resting in the crook of his arms.

He was Bret Hammond.

"We can't seem to leave each other alone, can we," I said.

"Unfortunately true. Only this time I'm completely in charge." His smile reminded me of that time long ago when we were at the bar in Kaligala and still good friends. "You won't have a chance to mess things up today," he said.

"What is your plan now," I responded.

"I'm the sheriff this time and plan on establishing law and order. I don't want any loose cannons flying around." His smile fell and his cheeks crinkled up. Fan lines spread out toward his ears behind a pair of watery eyes. "You must think I'm too controlling. But, I only do it for others." He began that nasty clicking of fingernails again. I wondered if he did that when he lied. It was certainly better than growing a nose.

He waved a hand around the room with people still plastered against the walls. "This world is too wild with the drunkenness, fistfights, gunfights, and whore-mongering. I can make a difference." He stared intently into my eyes. "Can't you see that Dan?"

"But is the price worth it?"

"What do you mean?" He touched my shirt and whispered. "You were always so cryptic."

"You need to search your heart Bret. That's all I can say."

He gave me a look of disgust and stomped out of the swinging doors.

As he left, I felt as if I was waking from a dream. People began to filter back into the room. I grabbed an old black-and-white checkered tablecloth, wrapped it around Althea and left the room.

Slowly, I led her up the stairs to the back room where we had originally appeared out of the waterfall. I spread an old Indian blanket on the floor and laid Althea on top of it. A couple of puffy quilts were crumpled in the corner, almost unused, clean. Soon I had them positioned under the blanket.

Her blouse was torn and useless. "I'm going to look for some clothes," I told her.

A nearby room was empty. It was a woman's room with a closet filled with clothes, mainly the garish kind used by entertainers of lonely men. However there was one black shirt with white vertical lines that looked to be Althea's size. After examining my pockets and finding some money, I left a handful on the table as payment.

Soon I was back in the room with Althea. She was sound asleep, so I curled up against her, my arm over her waist. I touched a breast, a mere grazing of finger tips to soft flesh. Lightly I slid my fingers over her skin, stopping at the nipple to gentle circle it with thumb and first finger.

A soft moan came from her lips. I reached my hand and unbuckled her belt, then slipped her jeans over her hips and off her legs. Quietly, so as not to wake her, I removed all my clothing as well. Nestling up against her, I slid my hand over her hips and down her legs. Bringing my hand back up to her hips, I curled my fingers along the edge of her panties. That was all she wore so I slid them down and over her. Now we were both naked, lying in spooning position, my penis hardening just below her buttocks in the mysterious region where her legs met.

Grasping her breast in my hand, the softness of her back was warm on my chest. My penis pushed against her, feeling a growing wetness. As I pushed into her, I felt the penis slide into her just an inch.

I continued to rub my fingers over her nipples while slowly moving my hips back and forth. Slowly I wormed my penis farther inside of her. I slipped my hand between her legs and stroked her just above where my penis was embedded inside her. There was a small bump there, her pleasure center. I knew about this, had touched her there once before, in her bedroom.

We were in a strange place, around strangers, and yet she was still irresistible. My penis was now two inches inside of her sliding easily in and out. Her groans were loader now with little whimpers each time I pushed my self inside of her. As the juices flowed out of her pussy, I slid my penis further inside of her.

Then I felt her push back against me and I slammed all the way into her. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. I simply lay there for several minutes, my hardness quivering inside the tightness of her pussy. Her clasp was firm and I felt as though I would come any second simply by the rhythms of her muscles squeezing me.

I continued my movements -- in and out.

Her groans were louder and with eyes wide open, she turned toward me, placed her arms around me, her leg over my hip. I felt her hand guiding me to her and then I was inside again, shoved tightly against her pelvis.

She slid over me so her breasts were against my chest, her pussy pressed tightly against me, her lips open and succulent against mine. Our juices mingled, tongues entwining. Taking the initiative, she arched her back and pushed against me. My penis was deep inside her now. I knew I would come any second now.

But she was first. "Ahhh," she cried. "I love you so."

I shot my load into her just as her cries reached their loudest point. Quivering with her release, she sank at last against my chest, quiet at last, spent of passion and desire.

Minutes later, I slipped out from under her, dressed, left the room, and quietly crept down the stairs.

When I reached the main tavern itself, I paused just inside the doorway. The stools at the bar were full. A man pounded out a festive tune on the piano. The tables were filled with groups of men with chaps and spurs -- cowboys. There were some guys with hard hats, corduroy pants, caulk boots.

I felt a tug on my arm. "You gonna buy me that drink?"

I smiled down at Jack Slaughter. "Sure. Don't want to be called a liar or anything. Then we'd need to fight to the death, right?"

He returned the smile. "Nah. I'm too curious about you. Want to know all about our kindly sheriff. You seem to know him from somewhere."

A few minutes later, I sat at one of the round tables next to Jack. A dark bottle of undefined poison sat in front of me. I had a tumbler filled with the brew clutched in my hand as did Jack. Tilting his head back he tossed the liquid down his throat. I took a sip. "Aach!!" I exclaimed.

Jack laughed. "You need to get used to this stuff. Won't be a proper member of the community otherwise."

Soon after this,. Althea joined us, a bit groggy perhaps but still as beautiful as ever. I wondered if her juices had sopped up her panties.

Turning to her, I asked, "Don't you want some of this elixir? It'll relax you or kill you. I'm not sure which." She shook her head and leaned against my shoulder. Her smell was pleasant like flowers, probably from that country of hers -- USA.

"If your friend hadn't shown up, you'd be dead now." Jack's mouth was firm and his lips puckered forward. "You have no idea about fighting. But, you're a game one. Stupid, but brave." He smiled. "Now tell me about Bret Hammond. He showed up around a month ago and took that sheriff job. Seems decent -- fair, but tough. You don't like him -- why?"

I wasn't sure how to answer his question. I didn't want to meddle with this world. I was just passing through. I'd find a home for Althea and myself somewhere else.

"He doesn't want you to feel," I said at last.

"I don't understand. He said you were cryptic. Are you doing that now?"

"It's hard to explain. Certainly, this town is dangerous and should be safer. But wildness and freedom can be very good."

Jack lifted the dark bottle. "You've been drinking too much of this rot gut. You've gone completely loony on me."

I waved my arm. "See the walls. They aren't black with little white lines now. See them changing. They're becoming gray like your dream."

He glanced around us and then looked into his empty glass. "I wonder who is really crazy." He poured himself another drink.

I put my arm around Althea. I was so very tired. I wanted to go home only I had no idea where home was -- not here, not Kaligala, not the USA. Maybe only in my imagination.

"Where is the portal my love?" I asked her.

She pointed toward the mirror with her chin. "Ever seen a mirror that big before. It's got to be the doorway home."

"Doorway to what I wonder?" Jack mumbled. "You guys are the strangest I've ever seen. Talking about things no sane man would ever think about."

Althea pulled me toward the mirror. We slipped behind the bar and tried to push our hands through. We tried doing it together -- nothing. Separately -- nothing. Finally, we returned to the table where Jack was still mumbling about portals and doorways and gray walls.

We slumped against each other for a long time listening to Jack talk about the good old days when life was so much better and young punks weren't so gun crazy. Then, this idea popped into my head.