The first moments were silent. Only the sound of the shot still reverberated in the empty bar. Little Troy had stepped back, his face briefly serious, but he quickly flashed his smile again.


    Wade didn’t move, and the silence was broken by Bart’s laughter. Beatrice’s sobs, as she collapsed to the floor, were even louder. Drops of Violet’s blood had even splattered onto Daniel and Jasper’s clothes. Jasper bared his teeth and cursed, while Daniel stared in disbelief.


    The only sharp movement came from Jake. He’d gotten to his feet and was shouting something. He charged at the first person he saw—Wade. With his hands tied behind his back, he had to lead with his head. Daniel didn’t know what he was thinking, but he knew it was a mistake.


    A second shot rang out in the bar. This time from Bart’s revolver.


    Jake fell to the ground in a pool of blood. His face met Violet’s. They lay side by side. Both lifeless. Both dead.


    Troy bounced with joy, expressing his delight in some strange, childish way as he looked at the two dead bodies. Daniel glanced at the hole in Violet’s face. He could see parts of her metal insides, though they were now being covered by blood. He was sure he heard something inside her—like the sound of electronics shorting out as the liquid used for blood made contact. One of her eyes opened and closed a few times before staying shut for good.


    Beatrice sobbed uncontrollably at her feet. Daniel kept marveling at all the extras on these robots. It slightly ruined the theater he’d been drawn into, but he’d never seen Hugo add something like water to produce tears. Yet there they were in Beatrice’s eyes.


    "Bro, this is pure art," Jasper said, his voice more full of admiration than anything else.


    "What are you two chirping about, little birds?"


    Bart lightly kicked Beatrice’s shoe, and she fell sideways, drenched in tears. She was alive, but it seemed she didn’t want to be. Bart sat on the chair, splattered with Violet’s blood.


    "Women these days are so weepy, don’t you think?" He looked at Beatrice. "Actually, Violet was tough, but she ended up with a bullet between her eyes. And from one of her own. What irony, huh, Wade?"


    Wade had found an apple somewhere and was biting into it with teeth too white for this place.


    "Dad, what about these guys?" Daniel heard Troy’s voice for the first time. "When do we shoot them? Can I kill one?"


    "No, Troy. You already killed that peasant Owen. He hadn’t done anything to you."


    "He had. He had a pear, and he yelled at me for taking one without asking."


    "And that’s why you had to kill him?"


    "You’d have done the same."


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I’d have beaten him first. And if he still didn’t give it to me, then I’d kill him."


    "Well…" The boy felt guilty. "Whatever. At least his wife’s still alive."


    "Yeah," Wade chimed in from behind them. "See, Troy’s compassionate. He could’ve killed her too, but he didn’t."


    "We’ll deal with it later, Troy. We’re not killing these two yet. We’re saving them for Reed."


    "Reed? Bart, why do we have to wait for that old man?" Wade said. "Don’t you think we can run this place ourselves? Look, the sheriff’s dead. Violet too. No one’s stopping us. Let’s put a bullet in each of these two, get Beatrice to put the whores back to work, and take over the village." He took another bite of his apple and continued, "Speaking of Owen’s wife, I’ve had my eye on her for a while. The kid did me a favor by killing her husband."


    "Keep your pants on, Wade," Bart replied. "You’re forgetting what Reed did for us. We’re men of honor. We owe it to him to help him now. Plus, I want to see his face when he sees Jake hanging from the gallows."


    "With that head wound, he’ll hardly believe we hanged him," Bart laughed.


    "By then, the birds will probably have pecked him clean. Troy," he turned to the kid, "how are the girls upstairs?"


    "Quiet. They started yelling a bit when I took this one, but when they see the barrel of the rifle, they shut up."


    "You trained him well, Bart," Wade said, standing off to the side, seeming to enjoy it more than help. "What do we do with these two?"


    "I heard there’ll be guests soon, Wade," Bart said, pulling a hand-rolled cigarette from his back pocket and putting it in his mouth. "The iron machine’s supposed to come tomorrow with more like them. Everything needs to be ready by then. Beatrice will make sure this place is clean and all the women feel good. It’s time to start making money."


    "Should I get Phil?"


    "The bartender? I completely forgot about him. Yeah, call him."


    Wade went into the room where he’d brought Violet from and returned with Phil. Daniel studied him. It was Phil, the same as before. There was fear in his eyes, but Daniel and Jasper knew Phil was human. They’d figured it out in one of their last days here. And yet, Hugo was supposed to have removed the humans this time.


    "Phil?" Jasper didn’t hold back. "What the hell are you doing here, you bastard? Did Barnes lie to us again?"


    Daniel tried to kick Jasper but couldn’t reach him. Jasper turned to him. He saw the fury in his eyes.


    "The old man screwed us again."


    "Who’s Barnes?" Bart asked, holding his revolver. "Little birds, should we expect someone else from your crew?"


    "Jasper got confused," Daniel said, trying to smooth things over.


    "Let’s hope so. Don’t forget, you’re going to die soon either way. So sing whatever you’ve got."


    Jasper didn’t say anything more. And that was for the best.


    Phil walked in slowly. He didn’t look as battered as Violet, but his expression was fearful. At first, it seemed he didn’t see Violet, but when his gaze fell on the bar’s owner lying in a pool of blood, he froze and his mouth dropped open.


    "What’s wrong, four-eyes, lost your mind?" Bart said.


    "V-Violet?"


    "Yeah. Nothing’s left of Violet. Too bad sweet Beatrice shot her. But that’s how it goes—when you’ve got big ambitions, sometimes it leads to killings like this. We can’t blame the poor girl."


    "Beatrice? Why?" Phil seemed to have more questions but only managed those.


    "I… I didn’t want to," Beatrice said, still crying.


    "She’s lying, lying," Bart cut in. "She begged me for a gun. Violet was pleading for mercy."


    Phil fainted.


    He played it perfectly.