WetWeb by Robert Haney Read Free Book Online Page A

stage coach. 
    But that would come later.  Right now, Yang needed to help his player shoot at the driver.  Yang consciously re-adjusted the aim of the player up and to the left so he was leading the driver.  Now , he waited for the signal from the player to pull the trigger.   He did not wait long.  He felt the pressure return to his index finger from the pressure sensor, and his hand reflexively pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times in rapid succession.

The squib vest that the driver wore under his cowboy outfit exploded with fake blood and gore as the rubber bullets made contact .  T he driver expertly leaped off the stagecoach to complete the death act by writhing on the dusty ground for a while.  Eventually, after the noise of the stage coach faded, the driver would discretely get up and make his way back to his starting position. If he hurried, he could get cleaned up and reset his squib vest in time to drive the afternoon stage.  Like all the hosts, the driver could earn additional popularity by fighting off another gang of robbers in the afternoon.

The stagecoach was running wild now.  Sam had shot down the guard as planned and Gus was in his position next to the lead horse to keep the stage coach running straight and steady.   Yang stood up in his stirrups, ready to make the jump.  He focused on the hand-rail next to the driver’s seat.  He could almost reach it.  If he got a good grip on this he would not fall even if the player missed his footing. 
    He tried to anticipate the leap from the player.  If he was smart, he would time it to coincide with the rhythm of the horse and the lurching of the stagecoach.  Yang was not sure what to expect from this player.  He waited for the pressure points in his legs to signal the leap from the player.
    And then it came, he felt the pressure on his legs and began the leap.  At the same moment he saw the flash of a gun from inside the stage-coach. 
    His squib vest exploded across his back, his tall horse lurched away from the noise , and Yang watched as his fingertips slipped out of the driver side hand-rail.  As Yang tumbled to the ground he perceived snapshot images from his fall.  His hand stretching out and grasping at the hand-rail; t he horse hoofs churning the dusty road.  The blue sky blackened by the top of stagecoach.  The impact with the ground and with a nauseatingly wet crunch, he heard the bone in his right forearm being crushed by the rear wagon wheel.
    He knew without looking, his right arm would be mangled.  As Yang started to gather himself to a sitting position, the pain stretched out from his wrist to every nerve in his body until he was shrieking and coughing.  Fake blood from the squib vest mingled with real blood from his arm as he cradled it against his chest.
    Soon his cousin was at his side.  Sam tried to get him to swallow some water from his canteen, but Yang could not unclench his teeth.  The stagecoach came rolling up and stopped.  Marshal Redburn was driving.  He had been hiding inside the stagecoach with the passengers and had purposefully waited till Eli made his jump before he took his shot.  Marshal Redburn wore a broad oversized white hat over his interface device.  He wore black leather gloves.  He had two six-guns, one strapped to each leg.  The handles of the Six-guns were painted with a stripe, one red and the other blue.
    Redburn sidled over to Yang.
    “Well Eli, looks like that’ll be the last time you try robbing the morning stage , ” He said expansively, playing to his remote audience. 
    Yang screamed at him.  Tommy Chin just smiled the smug smile of a bully.
    Marshal Redburn turned to climb back up on the stagecoach.  Yang reached across with his left arm and pulled his six gun from its holster. 
    At near point blank range he discharged all six rounds directly into Tommy Chin’s backside, firing in rapid succession.
    Tommy howled as the squibs beneath his trousers exploded exposing