“Finally got him! Good job Ed!”
“Yeah, that was a solid hit.”
“Good work.”
“Aw, come on, it wasn’t anything special.” Ed rubs the back of his head. “Alright Little Deputy, your turn!”
“…”
“…Clover? Hey, what’s the matter?”
“Come on Little Deputy, don’t throw a fit just ‘cause I tagged you.”
“It’s unbecoming. Besides, you don’t fail the test just by getting hit a few times.”
“Yeah! Come on, Clover, let’s play some more!”
“…”
“Hey, is that, um, a puddle?”
“Under Clover? Yeah. What the heck is that, sweat? I don’t think humans sweat that much. I know I sure don’t.”
“The humans don’t sweat that much in the movies either. But it could be the Wild East is hotter than the Wild West.”
“I can’t tell what it is when the FIGHT is making everything black and white like this. Can someone hit the MERCY button real quick?”
“Yeah, sure, now what is that stu—Oh my God. O-O-Oh my God that’s blood.”
“What!? That’s not… No! We were just playin’!”
“Guys? H-How much… how much blood do the humans usually lose in the movies…?”
“That’s a lot. Even for the movies.” Ace’s voice doesn’t quite shake, but it shivers like brittle glass. “We messed up bad.”
There is a hollow moment where nobody knows what to do, stretching out like a piece of taffy. Everyone looks at someone else for a good idea, a direction to take, or permission to panic and scream. The urge to descend into chaos looms larger and largest. Soon, the moment will stretch thin and tear. Someone must command the situation.
Ed, the natural choice as North Star’s right hand, is too stricken with guilt. Mooch is already tearing up and sniffling. Ace is independent and cool-headed enough to take charge, but is too quiet by nature. Moray’s SOUL quivers with dread at what their magic did to him. Ripped him wide open and poured his blood on the sand. They can smell it, a metallic tang on the air.
Moray is the most responsible, and so Moray must be responsible.
“Ed!” He jerks his head to look over, to stop staring at Clover. “Ed, go grab the doctor.” He’s slow to react, numbed by horror. He stammers, no real words coming out. They are all so close to being murderers. Seconds away, possibly. Is Clover even breathing? “Ed, go get the doctor now!” He lurches into motion, but he’s not moving fast enough, not understanding fast enough how much damage there may be. None of them do. Moray certainly doesn’t. Seconds. Seconds are ticking by. “NOW ED! RIGHT NOW!!” The words connect and Ed goes off at a dead sprint. Moray yells after him. “I don’t care if you have to grab him and drag him, just get him out here!”
Moray looks to Mooch and Ace. Ace steps forward, ready to take an order. Mooch does not. Her eyes are riveted to the body. No, he’s not just a body yet, he’s Clover, but humans, they don’t turn to dust when they die. How alive is he, and when is he not alive anymore? Mooch is starting to hyperventilate.
“The movies. In the movies they-they-they check for a pulse! Ace, come help me find it. Mooch, just… just cover your eyes, okay?” She doesn’t, but there’s no time to help her. Ed barrels into the little hospital at full speed and Moray hears something in the door frame break on his way in, then a lot of yelling inside. They both kneel down next to Clover.
“Ace, they uh, they just touch the neck in the movies, right?”
“Yes, just under the chin. It’s got something to do with the heartbeat, I think. They used the wrist instead, once.”
“Check his wrists. I’ll check his neck.”
Moray uses two fingers to look for a pulse, like they do in the movies. They struggle to find the right spot. They have to be looking in the wrong spot, because they can’t accept that he’s already gone. “Anything, Ace?”
“…Nothing.”
The doors to the saloon slam open and Dina comes out. “What in the gosh-darned HELL is all… this shouting… about. Oh my God.” She looks back into her saloon and growls out a swear, then tells everyone to stay inside. She turns back to them “What did you all do?”
Nobody replies. Moray’s chest feels like it’s collapsing and they push their fingers in harder, searching desperately, hoping they’re not hurting him more. “Come on. Please… something…!” It’s there, faint and fading. “He’s alive!”
Ace, who had been holding his breath without realizing, lets it hiss through his teeth. “Good.”
“Yeah, now we need… ED! Where’s that doctor!?”
“I’ve got ‘em!”
“Put me down you hooligan! What in the world is all this—oh good heavens, is all of that blood!?”
“Yes! So please just—just help us! Help him!”
“Of course, of course I’ll—put me down, damn it! Thank you. You’re lucky I grabbed my medical bag before you grabbed me, when you started babbling about an injury.” The doctor, a small monster in a plaguedoctor’s mask(?), hesitates. He kneels down next to Clover, looks at the wounds and how bloody and horrible it all looks, then hesitates again.
“Alright, so I must confess that I’m not qualified for this, but—!” It says over the eruption of protests. “—But, I do have something that could work.” The doctor produces a tiny needle from within his medical bag and kneels down beside Clover. Moray watches very closely. The doctor nods, grim. “It’s experimental and cut a with a few, er, exotic items, but it’s ultimately healing magic, and very potent.
“Doc, our magic did this, and I swear we didn’t mean for it to happen. Is it really safe?”
“I’m going to be completely honest here, kids: it can’t make it any worse.”
Moray, Ed, and Ace bow their heads as one. Off to the side, Mooch has her face in her hands and produces a small, pitiful whine. Dina has made her way over and kneels beside Clover, seeing the injuries for herself. Horror and disbelief rob her voice of strength, but she manages to rasp a command.
“Jus’ shut up and stick him, doc’.”