[The Gunslingers, Book II, Chapter 13] [Nick] Nick stared at the back wall of the Justice of the Peace office building; the colorful collage of graffiti gave testimony to the history of the alley that ran behind the building. Mauri apparently loved Tarmu and even provided the intended with a number in which to contact her. Of course, Mauri also seemed to be in love with half-a-dozen other potentials, but many of those names were mostly covered by the swirling patterns of a north island gang warring for space on the brick wall with a southern island gang. Higher on the building, in places nobody without the power to levitate themselves to have made the bold artwork, was whole graphic scenes that the flying artist must have felt that anyone walking through the alley would be interested in no less than four different species reproductive methods. Nick scratched his head and wondered how two of the methods of procreation were even possible. How am I supposed to get up there to scrub that off? Nick tossed the scrub brush he held back into the bucket with a splash and sat down on the old cracked asphalt-he crossed his legs and put his head in his hands. This building wasn’t getting clean again, unless maybe he sandblasted it. Is this really how you become a Gunslinger? Maybe this is some kind of test-a challenge-to see if I’m smart enough to figure this out. Where do you rent a sandblaster from and how do I get the money to rent it? Nick kicked the bucket of dirty water over and headed back inside. He walked down the ramp under the building and pulled the steel grate down that protected the underground garage. The garage was empty but had obviously once housed a fleet of police vehicles if the oil stains on the ground were any clue. I wonder what happened to all the police ground vehicles - and what about aircraft, they must have had some of those? Graffiti covered the round support columns that held the building above; apparently the steel gate wasn’t secure enough to keep out the more determined artists. Nick thought about just how daunting of a task it was to get this building clean again. Probably be easier to just build a new building. Nick jumped up on a loading dock, or so he assumed that’s what it was, and climbed the stairs to the ground floor. The lights in this part of the building still weren’t working, but enough light filtered in from side offices that he didn’t run into any of desks, chairs, cabinets and empty crates lying scattered about the halls. A match, yes, that’s what this place needed, just one match and maybe a can of gasoline. Urai was at the front counter stamping something on a piece of paper for a customer. Nick peeked over the odd amphibians shoulder to see what he was doing - a vendor’s license. “Do you mind?” said Urai. “Not at all,” replied Nick continuing to lean across his shoulder. Urai pushed the paper to the vendor and pulled away. Nick grabbed the stamp and thumped it down a few times fascinated with the way the silver mechanism turned inside the frame of the stamp with a pleasant mechanical sound and left a mark on the counter. “You know you have to clean that up,” said Urai. “Oh gee, yea, like it’s really noticeable in this disaster zone,” said Nick. “Shouldn’t you be scrubbing something?” asked Urai. “Where do I rent a sandblaster from?” asked Nick. Urai scratched his chin and thought to question Nick but decided he probably didn’t want to know. “Down at the ship yards,” said Urai. “And how do I pay for it, do we have any money?” Nick continued pushing the stamp down on the counter - thump thump thump. Urai snatched the stamp away and dropped it in a drawer under the counter. “We get money from fees, fines, and taxes, but nobody is paying those until our Gunslinger starts providing a useful service and then makes them,” explained Urai. “Are we providing a useful service?” said Nick ducking under the counter to look for other treasures Urai might be hiding. “Other than stopping riots he created, no,” said Urai. “Okay, guess we just have to help him get started,” said Nick finding an entire box of stamps and dumping them out on the counter. Urai and Nick spent the next several minutes fighting over the stamps as Urai tried to put them back in the box while Nick continued pulling them out. Nick found a stamp he like and snatched it and ran around the counter. “Give me that,” demanded Urai chasing Nick towards the door. “Nope, I need it,” Nick pushed the door open and fled with the stamp. The street was filled with people coming and going from stores and all the other various places people come and go from. Nick ignored them all, the day was still early and the Gunslinger wouldn’t be back until later this evening. Nick needed to try and get this done before he got back and found a reason to stop him. Nick hurried along the streets, waiving at a few other teenagers he knew. One group of boys invited him to a party on the east beach. The party was a temptation but he waived it off with a laugh and told them he had a job now but maybe later he would catch up with them. The boys tried to get Nick to tell them where he was working - Nick didn’t think that would be a good idea and ran off. They would just think he was working as a messenger for one of the Bosses. The docks were busy with trucks coming and going and forklifts and cranes. Sandblasters - where did they keep sandblasters? The first several men he asked told him to bug off; they didn’t have time for a stupid kid asking dumb questions. Finally, one of the men he asked pointed at a warehouse with a collection of small boats in slings gathered around the warehouse. Nick had to dodge a few cranes carrying boats and made it about five feet inside the big open doors before someone stopped him. “Hey kid, what do you think you’re doing?” asked a man in a dirty set of work over-alls. “I’m from the Justice of the Peace’s office,” said Nick. “I need to hire a sandblaster.” “You’re from the Justice of the Peace?” the man obviously didn’t believe him. “Yea, we have one now,” said Nick. “Come with me kid,” said the man. Nick followed the man across the warehouse. The air was hard to breathe; men in dirty white over-alls with masks on their faces were sandblasting the hulls of the small boats creating clouds of dust. The man lead Nick into an office off to the side, it was even dusty in here. “Do you see that frame on the wall?” the man pointed at an empty frame. “Umm… yea,” said Nick. “That’s the place were my operating license should be, and do you know why it’s not there?” Nick shook his head. “Because the Justice of the Peace is the one that signs the permits, and he hasn’t signed it.” “But there hasn’t been a Justice,” said Nick. “You’re a bright kid,” said the man. “The Building Commissioner fills in when there isn’t a Justice, but his office is too busy to bother with paperwork from the Justice Office.” “But you’re still working,” Nick pointed towards the boats being sandblasted. “Those little contracts nobody cares about, but I can’t get the big contracts doing the ships in dry dock because I don’t have the permit.” “I just need to hire you to sandblast the Justice Office,” said Nick a little confused where this was going. “I’ll sandblast the Justice Office when he signs my permit,” said the man. “Oh, okay, if you send a crew right now to sandblast the Justice Building, I’ll get your permit signed,” promised Nick. “Where’s the paper you need signed?” “The permit is at the Building Commissioners office, where it’s been for six months,” the man sat down at his desk and poured a cup of oily looking coffee from a machine that didn’t look like it had been cleaned since it was bought. “No problem, you send a crew, I’ll go get the permit, have the Justice sign it, and you’ll have it tonight,” said Nick. “And how do you plan on paying?” asked the man. “Oh, now that I understand what’s going on, I’m not going to pay,” said Nick putting his hand on the doorknob. He wanted to be ready to run if this went bad. “You’re losing money because you don’t have that paper, I’ll get you that paper and you’re going to sandblast the Justice Building for free.” The man didn’t even look up from his coffee, getting shaked down by the Justice was something he could understand. “I don’t care if you are a kid, if I don’t have that paper tonight, I’ll send some men to find you then I’m putting you inside one of those sandblasting chambers and turning it on. Do you know how long it will take to clean the flesh off your bones?” “Deal,” said Nick opening the door and hurrying away. Nick stopped and looked inside one of the sandblast chambers and shuttered thinking about what that sand could do to a person on the wrong end of the blaster. The Building Commissioners office was in the downtown section next to the Needle Tower. Strong-arm thugs were sitting around in groups and intimidating people as they tried getting in the building for business. Nick hoped the Gunslinger was going to do something about the Bosses and their gangs. He had to dart around several of the groups and got lucky; they weren’t really interested in a kid that didn’t have any money. The Commissioners office was as different from the Justice Building as two offices could possibly be. The office was bright and clean, it seemed that all the lights worked in here. It took Nick nearly an hour to get someone to pay attention to him and it was nearly noon before he convinced anyone that he was really from the Justice Office. He was going to have to get the Gunslinger to give him a badge or something to identify himself. “You got yourself in here, boy,” the Commissioner looked up from the lunch he was eating at his desk. “You have one minute, what do you want?” “I’m the Gunslingers Deputy, I need the business permit for the dock sandblaster,” said Nick. “That’s it?” asked the Commissioner. “You wasted my time for that.” “I was given a mission,” Nick shrugged. “It’s not my place to decide if it’s important or not.” The Commissioner pushed a button on his desk and an assistant entered the room. “If you want that permit, it’s in a box most likely, you take the Justice paperwork with you and get it out of my building and you are welcome to search for it at your own office.” That seemed reasonable, maybe there was other stuff he needed and had been here sitting. Nick nodded and agreed and followed the assistant to an elevator and down to the basement. The assistant led Nick through a basement lined with chain-link cages full of boxes in storage. Each cage was piled with thirty or forty boxes and there must have been thirty cages. Nick was amazed at just how much bureaucracy it took to run a city, there were so many boxes here. “Okay, it’s all yours,” the assistant handed Nick a key. “Which cage is the Justice Building’s?” asked Nick. “All of them,” the assistant laughed and walked back towards the elevator. “What!” cried Nick, “There are hundreds of boxes in here, how do I move them?” The elevator dinged and the assistant stepped in and pushed a button. “Follow this hall around to Transportation and see if they will move it, or start carrying. I don’t care, it’s your problem now.” Nick sighed and followed the hall around the basement and through two big steel doors until he found the Transportation Department. A short man with a mustache so big as to be comical threatened to hide the man’s face. Nick tried to keep a straight face and approached the man. The man stood on a box at a podium making entries in a large worn ledger. “Hi, are you in charge?” asked Nick. “How did you get in here?” asked the man. “I work for the Justice Building,” said Nick. “Really now, you work for the Justice Building, or you work in the Justice Building, or you are employed at the Justice Building, seems you are confused.” Nick stared at the man; this project was getting too complicated. “I’m the Gunslingers Deputy,” said Nick. “Are you now, a Gunslinger, and you have no badge and you present no identification, and you stand gawking like a school girl,” said the man. “There’s a store room over there full of boxes I need to get to the Justice Building,” said Nick. “Can I get someone to move the boxes there?” “Seems to me you are someone,” said the man. “So, start moving.” “What do I have to do?” asked Nick. The man handed Nick a request form and a pencil that couldn’t have had more than an inch left on it. “Fill out a request, waiting list is fourteen months,” stated the man. “Oh come one, there’s a group of guys sitting right over there,” Nick pointed. “Just load the boxes in a truck and bring them over.” The man ignored Nick and went back to his ledger and making entries in the columns. “What do you want?” asked Nick. “Don’t want nothing, better get to moving, Deputy,” the man said not glancing up. Nick returned to the store room and looked around at the hundreds of boxes. He put the key in the first cage and pushed the gate open. How was he supposed to carry all these boxes back to the office, or worse - how was he going to find the sandblasters permit? Nick sat down on one of the boxes and pulled the first box towards him and lifted the lid. The box was stuffed with every sort of colorful piece of paper. The first piece of paper was dated nearly nine months ago. Nick read the paper; it was a request for a fishing license. He stuffed the paper back in the box and shoved the lid back on. Nick sat there unsure what to do and then a box caught his attention. The box had handwriting on the outside, ‘Transportation Department Investigation - Expedite.’ Nick lifted the lid and peered in the box and read a few of the documents inside. His face broke into a grin, the box was pure gold. Nick lifted the box and headed back down the hall to the Transportation Department and the man on the podium. Nick made sure the writing on the box was facing outward as he walked past the man. He glanced up and then at the box and turned white. “Hope you don’t mind,” said Nick. “This is the only easy way in and out of the basement, I’ll just start carrying these back to the Justice Building. Guess I’ll put this one on the Gunslingers desk to look at first, huh, gotta start somewhere.” The man practically flew from around his podium and blocked the way. “Tell you what, maybe I can…” the man looked at the box, “Expedite your request and get those boxes moved today.” “That would be great,” said Nick. “I’ll meet you there.” Nick tried walking around the man but he moved and blocked him. “You don’t really think I’m letting you leave here with that box,” said the man. “If I disappear, or what’s in this box disappears, I’m pretty sure my Boss’s first stop will be here,” said Nick. “You ever meet a Gunslinger before?” “Okay kid, you got me, do you want to work out a deal or should I just take my chances and stuff you in the furnace?” “I don’t want to fight you or end up in the furnace,” said Nick. “I’m not stupid, you bring the rest of the boxes and I’ll give you this one. My Gunslinger has a whole city to try and deal with, he won’t miss this one box.” “You leave that box with me and I will have all the other boxes in your office by three,” said the man holding his hands out. Nick really wasn’t stupid, he knew there was no way he was going to get out of this basement alive with this box. But, the man would probably keep his end of the deal, he didn’t want a Gunslinger showing up and poking too deep into the Transportation Departments dealings. Nick handed the box over and walked as calmly as his shaking legs would carry him to the loading dock and out into the ally. The moment he was out of sight, Nick broke into a run to shake the fear off. Pretending not to be scared was harder than it looked. The street was packed with people out for lunch and Nick was getting hungry. He hadn’t thought to ask Urai for some lunch money, but it didn’t matter, he was only a few blocks from the Justice Building. Several trucks were at the office when he got back. Men were dragging hoses around the building and loud generators were just getting fired up. Nick stopped and watched the sandblaster blast the graffiti, grime, and stains of several decades of abuse from the building. Satisfied this part of his plan was working he headed inside and found Urai enjoying a sandwich. Nick grabbed the other half and shoved it in his mouth. “If I’d know you would be back for lunch I would have got you something,” said Urai. “I mmph mmph need fumph something,” mumbled Nick between bites of the sandwich. “Manners?” asked Urai. “Ha ha… very funny,” replied Nick. “No, see that sandblast company cleaning the building? I need you to type up a Business Permit for them.” “Won’t be any good unless you get the Justice of the Peace signature on it,” explained Urai. “Just do it or I’m dead,” said Nick. “The Gunslinger will sign it, you can get him to do it.” “So my choice is do it and be stuck with you or don’t do it and have peace and quiet again?” asked Urai. “Come on, don’t make me beg, we’re partners,” said Nick. “Unless you want to be the one to deal with those big scary men?” Urai paled slightly and sat down at an old antique typewriter and typed out the Business Permit. Nick hovered over his shoulder and grabbed the paper the moment Urai pulled it out. “Where does Cain sign it?” asked Nick. Urai pointed to the place for the signature and Nick nodded. The door opened and a man entered carrying a box. Urai looked up curiously, Nick had seen the truck pull up and knew there would be a good many more trucks showing up soon. “Where you want these?” asked the delivery man. “What…?” Urai stood up. “Just stack them anywhere,” said Nick. Nick explained the boxes that would be arriving and Urai actually looked like he was in heaven. Box after box of bureaucratic paperwork appealed to Urai and he immediately set to work moving boxes and organizing them into piles. Nick was sitting out front on a chair and watching the sandblasters packing up their equipment. The man that owned the sandblasting business kept glancing at him and giving him evil grins. If Cain didn’t show up soon Nick was going to end up in… Nick saw the Gunslinger. “About time, you have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Nick almost hugged the Gunslinger and shoved the Permit into Wes’ hands. “Sign this.” “What’s going on,” Wes looked up at his office. “It was fresh and clean and…” Wes knew something was wrong. “What did you do?” asked Wes. “Just sign this, please,” said Nick. Wes grabbed Nick’s hands, they were shaking slightly. Nick didn’t get rattled easy and something had him scared. Wes read the paper, seemed innocent enough. “How much did it cost to clean the building?” asked Wes. The Sandblast man walked over and looked at Wes and then at Nick. “My permit,” demanded the sandblast man. Wes eyed the man; he hadn’t asked for payment, he just wanted the paper Wes held. Wes understood, Nick had traded for this piece of paper—but there was something more. The sandblast man didn’t see it coming; Wes drew so fast it looked like the revolver just materialized in his hands. Wes shoved the barrel into the man’s mouth in mid-sentence and pushed him back until he was standing up against the wall of the building he just cleaned. The sandblast man stared with horror into the dead eyes of the Gunslinger—and never wanted to see them again. He had seen more life in the eyes of a dead man. “If you wanted to trade, I got no problem with that,” whispered Wes. “But if you ever threaten one of my people again, I’ll hunt you like an animal and kill you—are we clear?” The man tried to speak but the barrel of the revolver prevented that. “Nick, was the trade your idea or his,” asked Wes. “A little of both,” said Nick. “Apologize for getting him into this,” ordered Wes. “I’m sorry,” said Nick. “And you too,” Wes ordered the sandblast man as he pulled the revolver out of the man’s mouth. “Sorry I threatened you, boy,” said sandblast man. “You will be paid for your work here—send my man, Urai, the bill, you will get a check,” promised Wes. “Is this over now?” “It’s over,” said sandblast man. Wes holstered his gun and signed the permit and gave it to the man. Sandblast man walked back to his truck and climbed in. “Well boss, what you want to do?” asked sandblast man’s partner. “Nothing, we just need to be damn thankful that was a boy Gunslinger and not a full grown one,” said sandblast man. “I heard about them Gunslingers but didn’t believe it and don’t think I ever want to meet another one. I’ve never seen eyes like that—I don’t think that boy has a soul.” Wes pushed Nick inside the office and stopped when he saw the hundreds of boxes stacked up. Urai was in one corner happily surrounded by stacks of forms. “Should I ask?” said Wes. Nick handed Wes the stamp he had pilfered earlier from Urai. “You’ll be needing this, boss” said Nick. Wes read the stamp. Office of the Justice of the Peace.