The Doc Justice Files - Thunder From a Clear Sky part 1
by Direwolf

Chapter 1- A Fateful Turn.

"The problem with America, I have always said, is this county of yours is just too bloody large," Lord Gawaine Paget pronounced decisively from the front seat of the long, powerful sedan. "We really should have taken a plane you two, I said so from the very start."

From beside him, Lucas Jackson gave him a single, chilly stare that should have frosted the well-dressed Englishman's eyebrows, then returned to watching the rutted dirt road in front of them. A few gray tumbleweeds blew across the reddish brown roadway and a long rooster tail of tan dust rose behind the car, the only signs of movement in the vast emptiness of northeastern Nevada. A line of telegraph poles, most of them leaning at drunken angles, marched along beside the road beside a barbwire fence that was more gaps then fencing.

Justin Collins spoke up from the back set, after setting aside the file he'd been trying to read despite the car's bouncing on the rutted road. "I seem to recall you insisting that we drive, even through Alex offered to fly us out. Just like you insisted that you could navigate with ease. ‘A good map and a star in the sky is all I'll need' were the exact words."

"Just goes to show you not to trust an English Lord to make travel arrangements," Go-on replied, tossing the map over his shoulder into the back seat. "We have people who do that sort of thing for us, you know."

With a sigh, Justin picked up the abandoned map. Lucas and Go-on commenced arguing and the tone rapidly escalated to the point an observer would have sworn the two men were about to come to blows. Justin tried to ignore them while he puzzled over the map. Today, their argument seemed focused on trying to assign blame for their current predicament. On the one side, there was Go-on's lack of navigational skills. On the other, Lucas' driving. Opinion on the root cause seemed evenly split between the two hypotheses.

They were on their way to the city, or perhaps town, of Cooper's Bend where Justin was scheduled to meet with the management of the Cooper's Bend silver mine to discuss a new ventilation system that should allow the miners to dig deeper after the veins of silver in the local mountains. Go-on had insisted that a drive out from California would be a nice change of pace and that there was plenty of time to see the countryside. So the three of them had piled into the touring car with a supply of Fu Lee's provisions and well wishes from Alex and Britt. Alex had quietly insisted to Justin that if they didn't call on time from Cooper's Bend, she would take a plane to look for them since Go-on was navigating. Right now, Justin was glad they had a back up plan.

Go-on had insisted that this unmarked turn-off from the main highway would bring them through the quaintly named town of Scorched Stone Flats and would lead them into Cooper's Bend. But so far, the turn-off was looking more and more like a cattle trail rather than a road. Justin found himself wondering just how much of a fuel reserve the big car had. They might need it.

The sun was sinking in the west, already touching the line of mountains and turning the sky deep blue with bands of pink and orange clouds. The air that slipped in through the car's vents smelled of dust and sage. It was late May, and already the land was baked dry, the sparse snow of the winter and the rain of early spring long gone. It was a harsh land, Justin thought, but not without beauty. He knew that beneath the dry soil and rock there lay a wealth of mineral riches. The problem was, how not to go broke tapping into them.

The problem with deep mines was nearly always a question of ventilation, moving enough air to keep the miners from suffocating and cool enough to work. And if you dug deeply enough, you hit water, even in an arid place like eastern Nevada. That meant pumps as well. Justin looked at his pad of paper and the notes he had already written. The mining company was paying a lot of money just to bring him out to talk to them. He planned on being prepared so as to make sure they got their money's worth. Even if that meant trying to work while the car jounced over another epic set of ruts.

"Well, oh faithless ones, what is that I espy ahead in the gathering dusk? It looks like we have found the legendary Scorched Stone Flats." Go-on sat up straight and reflexively straightened his natty tie, as if expecting to see a welcoming committee complete with band waiting for them.

Justin peered out through the dusty windshield and saw what looked at first like a small rundown barn. On closer inspection it was actually a seemingly deserted gas station, complete with a cracked sign. There was a sun-faded billboard nearby welcoming travelers to Scorched Stone Flats.

Lucas stopped the car by the single pump that looked to be in serviceable condition. When no one emerged from the dark barn, he honked the horn once. They waited. Still no one appeared.

"Worn out by the rush of customers, I suspect the local mechanic has left for the evening," Go-on noted as he got out of the car. As he stretched, his long legs and arms made him look a little like a well-dressed stork.

"It's a manual pump, so I'll go ahead and fill up," Lucas said. "We can leave the money inside."

Both Lucas and Justin got out as well and Lucas began working the pump to fill the car. Justin took a moment to survey the area around them. More buildings were visible to the north further up the road, but he didn't see any signs of activity. A single tumbleweed rolled past, propelled by the breeze, scratching dryly over the hard packed ground. To the west, the line of low mountains was a deep purple shadow and a three quarters full moon was already bright in the sky. Everything seemed peaceful and very deserted.

Since it looked like Lucas was nearly done filling the gas tank, Justin walked towards the small office built out from the barn that he was sure had to act as a garage. The lights were off though the small sign on the door clearly read ‘open'. Justin shrugged, suspecting that the sign just hadn't been turned around, and knocked on the door just in case.

There was no answer. He turned the knob and the door swung in. The dusty windows didn't admit much light, but there was enough for Justin to see by. There was a counter with an old cash register, and a rack of age yellowed maps alongside it. Several old posters for machine tools and a calendar graced the clapboard walls. Several long strips of well used flypaper hung from the ceiling. More flies buzzed through the air. They seemed concentrated behind the counter. And there was a distinctive odor as well, freshly spilled blood.

Moving cautiously, Justin looked over the counter. There was a wooden chair on its side and the body of an elderly man in blue coveralls lying still on the floor. Justin was sure the dark stain on the worn floorboards around him had to be blood.

"Gawaine, Lucas, in here!" Justin shouted as he took a slender flashlight of his own design out of his coat pocket and shone the beam down on the man. He was clearly dead and by the look of him, had been shot twice in the chest with something fairly large, most likely a military style rifle. There were splatters on the wall that showed he had been sitting, facing the door, hen he was shot. Flies were crawling over the blood. By the way they moved, Justin could tell the blood was at least an hour old.

The door swung open and Go-on and Lucas came in.

"I suppose this explains why he didn't ask to check the oil", Go-on said grimly.

While Justin was examining the body, Lucas searched the floor.

"I got two shell casings," the huge man said. With surprising grace, he lifted two brass cartridges from the floor with the ends of pencils he found atop the desk. He sniffed the ends. "Freshly fired. Look like .30-06."

"One or two shooters?" Justin asked.

Lucas quickly scanned the doorway, marking in his mind where he found the two shells. "I'd say two, standing in the doorway. They must have fired at about the same time or the blood splatters on the back wall would have been further apart."

"Makes sense," Justin said as he dusted off the knees of his pants. "Looks like whoever shot him surprised him at his desk. That means they probably didn't drive up."

"I see," Go-on noted. "If they had, he most likely would have been up out of his chair to see who had pulled up."

"Well, nothing more we can do here." Justin set the money down on the counter. Leaving without paying seemed somehow wrong, like robbing the dead. "We need to find the sheriff or someone to report this."

They walked back to the car in silence, everyone on edge from the grim find. It took them just a few more minutes of driving to reach the silent town. The only visible movement in the deserted dirt street was the slow rolling of a few stray tumbleweeds.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," Justin said as the car rolled to a stop in front of a clapboard building that bore a sign identifying it as both the Post Office and Sheriff's office. A rusty, but still serviceable police car was parked along side the building. A few other cars and small trucks were parked along the only real street in Scorched Stone Flats but no one emerged from any of the buildings. It was if the town was deserted.

Justin led the way to the door of the Sheriff's office. The wooden planks of the porch thudded hollowly under their feet. Go-on paused, looking down the street.

"Go on! Real hitching rails." He shook his head. "I see something down there, I'm going to go see if it's someone in need of help."

"Lucas, can you please keep watch over both of us and back up anyone who gets in trouble?" Justin asked, his hand on the doorknob.

"Sure thing." Lucas took a position by the car as Go-on paced down the dusk darkened street.

Justin opened the door. The Sheriff's office looked like it belonged in a Remington folio, even down to the bleached steer skull mounted on a wall of framed newspaper clippings. The sheriff was on the floor just inside the door, face down in a drying pool of blood. There was single gaping exit wound from what Justin assumed to be a large caliber military bullet in the back of his khaki shirt.

"He was going for his gun," Justin murmured. The man's hand was clenching the butt of a heavy revolver in a holster at his hip. "Just got beat to the draw."

Justin noticed a rifle rack back by the desk. It was suspiciously empty, making him think that whoever shot the sheriff had taken the other weapons. On a sudden hunch it might come in handy, Justin took the heavy revolver from the dead man's holster. His .45 automatic was in the trunk of the car. The idea of going armed seemed more like a wise precaution with every passing moment. He spotted a phone mounted by the desk. He lifted the receiver and spun the crank. The line was silent.

He want back outside and spotted Lucas by the car. Go-on was walking back up the streets, his eyes shifting warily back and forth.

"The Sheriff's dead," Justin called out, "and the phone isn't working."

"There's another body down the street," Go-on answered. "Looks like an old woman who was shot in the back as she was running across the street. I would say the town of Scorched Stone Flats has a chronic ‘flying lead poisoning' problem.

"I get the distinct feeling we aren't going to find a living soul in town," Lucas suggested.

Justin turned a slow circle in the middle of the street. "I think you are right. But we need to find out."

He tossed the gun to Lucas who deftly caught it. Then he and Go-on found their own guns in the car trunk. Together, they quickly searched through the buildings along the empty street as the sun set and dusk settled over the town. And Justin realized it truly was a town of ghosts.

Throughout the buildings they found the same story repeated, the citizens of Scorched Stone Flats had all been gunned down by a ruthlessly effective foe. No one seemed to have escaped the slaughter. In total, they found over two dozen bodies and a scattering of bright brass shell casings, nothing more.

"And of course, all the phones are bloody well out," Go-on complained as they walked out of the last building on the street.

"I think we should head out, find someone to report this to, " Lucas suggested. "Nothing we can do for them now."

"There is something very odd about this," Justin said.

"I should bloody well hope so. This can't be routine, even in a lawless place like the American west."

Justin looked sourly at Go-on. "No. I'm talking about the bodies, all shot at fairly close range with what looked like riffle bullets. Some of them looked like they were reaching for weapons or hiding, but most were just ambushed."

"I see what you mean, boss," Lucas nodded. "All that riffle fire should have alerted someone unless a whole lot of gun men where here..."

"...And that would cause a bit of a stir as well," Go-on continued. "So how did a heavily armed bunch of killers show up in town, get close enough to gun everyone down. Silent horses?"

Go-on paused and suddenly squinted ahead. "What the deuce is that?"

He gestured at something long and dark just north of them.

"It's a stopped train!" Lucas exclaimed.

Justin knew the smart thing to do was follow Lucas's suggestion, but there was a very dark mystery here, one that had cost a lot of people their lives. He wanted to get to the solution, at least to understand the slaughter. Not doing so felt like turning his back on a monumental injustice. He had to try.

"Let's take a look. Be careful."

They spread out into a line and walked towards the train.

Along with the engine, a dozen boxcars and half that many flat cars were stopped on the rail that skirted north of the empty town. There was a wooden platform with a "Scorched Stone Flats" sign as well, and a near by storage shed. It looked like this had been the town's lifeline and a regular rail stop as well.

As they approached, Justin shown his flashlight along the length of the train. The train looked undamaged and as far as he could tell, the track was intact.

They crunched along through the gravel beside the tracks on their way to the engine.

"She's still warm," Lucas announced after setting his hand on the massive black and yellow bulk of the San Antonio Railroad diesel engine. "This was a planned stop, not an emergency one or she wouldn't be lined up with the platform."

Justin swung up into the cabin of the train engine. He found what he expected, a bullet hole punched through the glass on the side of the cabin and the crumpled body of the engineer in side. A quick check found the rest of the train's crew, all shot to death as well.

"I wonder what she was carrying?" Go-on asked.

"Easy way to find out" Lucas found a clipboard in the Engine compartment and the three of them examined the manifests in the glow of Justin's flashlight.

"These look like mining supplies," Justin noted. "Drills, cables, generators and tools. As well as food and general supplies as well."

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say we are looking at some sort of train hijacking", Go-on said. "But the train's still here and the hijackers aren't."

"I see what you mean. Someone killed everyone in town, and then ambushed the train when it stopped. But it looks like they didn't take anything, the cars are still loaded."

Lucas paused to look around the moon lit landscape. "But where did they go? If they had planned on taking this stuff, you would need a lot of trucks."

They were silent for a moment as they considered the puzzle.

"What is that?" Justin faced west, towards the line of mountains that were nearly lost in the darkness, a line of black against the starry sky.

"I don't hear anything," Go-on insisted.

"You're right!" Lucas exclaimed a moment later. "I hear it too, a rumble kind of like the echo of distant thunder."

"Can't be, the sky's far too clear for that!" Go-on insisted.

"It's not thunder, it's engines. Something is coming," Justin instead, his gray eyes looking west.

To be continued...