A Once Crowded Sky Read Online Free PDF Page A

stories are original, are they?”
    “I don’t know.” Soldier looks where Prophetier’s looking. There’s movement up there, some people coming. With his eyes as they are, Soldier can’t quite make out who it is. “Is there something I can help you with, Proph?”
    Prophetier smiles, inhales deeply on his cigarette. “We all come back. Something will come. Our stories. They’re not original. Something will happen, and we’ll come back.”
    “I don’t know about that.”
    “I know. I’m the Prophetier.”
    “Maybe.” Soldier is still looking out at the approaching crowd, about half a dozen men making their way through the graves. “But I don’t think so. For what that’s worth.”
    “I’ve been working with Pen. We’ll need him. But he’ll need help.”
    Soldier gestures out at the men coming at them. “You know those fellows?”
    “I know them.”
    “Is there going to be trouble?”
    “I’m not allowed here,” Prophetier says. “They’re here to take me away. So maybe some trouble.”
    Soldier squints again at the group walking toward them—and Prophetier reaches around quick and grabs Carolina from Soldier’s holster.
    “Hey!” Soldier shouts.
    “I don’t know really,” Prophetier says, backing away from Soldier, the gun in his hand pointed at Soldier’s head. “Is this trouble?”
    “What’s the problem here, son?” Soldier asks, his hand dropping down to California.
    “We all come back.”
    “Put it down,” Soldier says, taking a step forward. “Put the gun down, Proph. Nice and simple.”
    Prophetier coughs, his cigarette falling from his mouth. Soldier takes another step, and Prophetier points his gun at the air, at the ground, at Soldier. “We all come back.”
    Soldier grips the handle of his pistol. As he always does before he draws, Soldier flicks his fingers against the back of the triggers. It’s a bad habit he picked up ninety years back.
    “Son,” Soldier says, talking slow, breathing hard. “Son, listen, listen to me. Put the gun down. Nothing good comes of that. Just put it down.”
    “We all come back.” Prophetier straightens his arm, aiming his gun now at Soldier’s chest. “We all come back.”
    “C’mon, just put it down.”
    Prophetier smiles. “We’ll fight again. You’ll fight again.”
    “Proph I . . .” Soldier pauses, gets some breath back, remembers how many men he’s faced like this, how many men are dead after facing him like this. Until next time. “I don’t know about any of that,” Soldier says, tightening his hands around California.
    “We all come back!” Prophetier yells.
    Soldier licks his lips. “Listen.” Soldier pauses, takes a good swallow. “Listen to me.”
    “I’m the Prophetier.”
    “I know you are, son, I remember all you did. But, listen, it’s over now, it’s all gone. And that ain’t all bad. It ain’t.”
    “You don’t get it. You don’t understand.”
    Soldier steps forward. There’s barely a foot between him and the barrel. “It’s over, and it ain’t bad, because I can tell you, if this was before, and a man held my gun and was standing where you’re standing, I’d have drawn faster than you could aim, and I’d have killed you. You wouldn’t have known it was coming. Prophetier or no. You’d not even have thought to know it was coming.”
    “I have to prepare you.”
    Soldier takes his hand off his weapon. “But the game’s over. I ain’t firing. There’s no need for it. Let’s settle this better. We can do better than bullets.”
    “We all come back.”
    “I’m not playing the game anymore.” Soldier raises his hands. “There’s no need for this. It’s done. Powers are gone. Villains are dead. That’s a hard lesson. But it’s true. I swear, son, I swear.” Soldier puts his hands well over his head, as if he was catching the sky. “Just put the gun down, and we can talk this out.”
    “You’ll save the world again.” Prophetier tilts the gun and fires, blasting at