As part of his ongoing column at New Pulp, Alan J. Porter is serializing our story “The Raven: Nameless Here For Evermore,” scheduled to appear in the not yet published Protectors anthology. The second segment appeared today.
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| The Raven loomed over the shattered Buick lying on its side, a mix of steam, water, oil and blood seeping from it like some great wounded beast of burden. Returning his twin Colt .45 revolvers to their concealed shoulder holsters, he looked into the crushed interior. The remains of Dutch Mandel was spread all over the driver’s door and front seat, while in the back, a goon’s head lay at such an unnatural angle as to confirm that he had joined Dutch in whatever bit of the after-life two-bit hoods populated. So with Dutch, the twisted man, and the slaughtered calf at the deli all out of the way, that left one. Where was he?
In response, a baseball-bat powered blow smacked him in the back of his head. The Raven staggered from the impact, placing his hands on the shattered car. Pivoting on his braced arms, he rose and shot his leg straight back in the direction of where he calculated the goon with the bat stood. Idiots never moved. Like bargain basement Babe Ruths, they wasted valuable seconds admiring their handy work. He felt his foot connect with stomach, and heard the rapid involuntary expulsion of air that followed. The Raven spun round and delivered a second kick–a round house this time–into the goon’s solar plexus, driving him back and to the ground. His cape flowing behind him, The Raven strode over to the supine crook, placing a booted foot on the man’s heaving chest to prevent him rising. Withdrawing one of the .45s, he slowly and deliberately aimed it at the man’s forehead. “Was it worth it?” the deep baritone voice, partly muffled by the scarf, sounded matter of fact, as if this man’s life was of little or no consequence. |
And here’s the first part.
The Raven: Nameless Here For Evermore Part 2 was originally published on The Geek Curmudgeon