The Holy Death

Chapter 30

The morning could not come quickly enough for Scott, but when it did come, it brought with it sunlight and no rain, which was a welcome change. Scott had cursed the weather for slowing down their journey and costing them valuable time. However, he was much relieved to see the morning sun breaking through the clouds. He was even more relieved when they got back on Highway 95 to find it open and not at all wet, so they were able to continue their quest, unfortunately hitting Las Vegas at morning rush. Jack, of course, kept asking them to stop – it had been a while since he'd been to Sin City, and he very much wanted to try his luck. Scott told him he'd tried his luck quite enough the night before and would have to satisfy himself with that. Of course, he was not happy at Scott's refusal to stop, but Scott didn't really care.

After slogging through the Las Vegas metropolitan area, they connected with Highway 93, making the excruciatingly slow drive over Hoover dam. Yes, it is an impressive sight, but they weren't there to sightsee. They continued on into Arizona, hitting the Phoenix metro area right after noon and happily avoiding the local rush hour mess. Then they proceeded to the border. They passed up Tombstone, which Scott told Dawn they should take the time to visit sometime, as it had always been a dream destination of his. Dawn did not seem very interested, until Scott reminded her of the Kurt Russell movie of the same name. Jack just laughed.

"Wyatt Earp?" Jack said. "Seriously, Scott?"

"Well, yeah. I've always been a bit of a wild west wonk, so..."

"Wyatt Earp wasn't all he's cracked out to be."

"I take it you knew him too."

"Yeah, and he wasn't the white-hat hero the movies made him out to be. He had a darker side."

"Which made him a most effective agent," Jeremiah said.

"What?" Scott asked, kind of awed that one of his childhood heroes may have been an agent of Ministry, "Wyatt Earp worked for Ministry?"

"He did, indeed. In fact, he was very near to catching Jack, was he not, Jack?"

Jack snorted. "Huh. Yeah, well, he tried to catch me. He was lucky I didn't kill that tall son of a bitch!"

"You almost killed Wyatt Earp?" Scott asked.

"Yep! He wanted to catch me, but I showed him, I--"

"That is not the way I heard it, Jack," Jeremiah said.

"Oh, really? Well, do tell!"

"Very well. I heard that Earp, shall we say, beat the hell out of you. It was not even close. In fact, it was quite possibly the worst beating you ever received at the hands of a mortal!"

Jack huffed. "Now, there you go, Jeremiah. There's no truth to that at all! You see, Earp begged me not to kill him, and I, in a moment of mercy, let him live."

"In truth," Jeremiah said to Scott, "It was Jack who begged Wyatt Earp to spare him. In a moment of uncharacteristic inattentiveness, Jack slipped his bonds and fled into the night. Ordinarily, he simply would have killed the agent, but he did not want to risk another beating at the hands of Marshal Earp."

"Oh, now, who you gonna believe, Scott? Me or him?"

"Is that even a question?" Scott asked. "So, Jack got his ass handed to him by Wyatt Earp. That is cool."

Jack had enough of the conversation and sulked silently in his cage. He said nothing further, allowing for the rest of the group to talk amongst themselves without Jack's unwelcome intrusion all the way to the border.