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When Ash's eyes were destroyed, the remaining damned shared her one way ticket to Hell.  These are the stories of the...
Last Day
Val Kilmer
'Doc' Douglas (1842 -1877)
Written by Phil Gee
The dusty Arizona highway stretched on for miles without end, leading to and coming from nowhere. A battered Chevy Silverado galloped along the asphalt at a slow pace, its driver in no particular hurry.

“This looks about right,” Doc said to himself. He pulled the pick-up to the shoulder, let the engine idle as he checked the immediate surroundings.

A sharp curve ahead. The path behind blocked by a large crop of rolling hills. He was pretty much isolated from either direction at this spot.

“Yeah,” Doc thought, “this’ll do just fine.”

He shut off the engine, pocketed the key ring -- but not before twirling it around his right index finger. Still quick on the draw, even quicker on the trigger. If anything, he’d gotten faster.

Doc Douglas sauntered lazily to the front of the Silverado, popped the hood. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, took the red scarf from his neck and tied it to the radio antennae.  It didn’t take much to make it appear as if he were stranded. Now, all that was left was the waiting. Doc reached down, touched the top of his boot. The loose fit was ideal for hiding his Colt. It was right where he left it.

From the rear, he heard a car approaching. Slow, deliberate; tourists admiring the view for sure. These were the easiest marks. Forcing a smile, he stood beside the grill, waving his hands in seeming distress. “You’re a daisy ready to be plucked.”


“Look, dear,” said the woman passenger. “I think I see a man beside that truck up ahead.”

Her husband peered through his bifocals. “I don’t see anybody. Your eyes must be playin’ tricks. They told us about mirages and stuff back at the hotel, remember?”

“I’m sure there’s a man there! Be a sweet thing and see if he needs help.”

The man groaned, but knew the path of least resistance had gotten him through more then one confrontation in almost thirty years of marriage. “Okay, I’ll pull over.”

They were still about a hundred yards away, when a crackle of blue electricity billowed around the front of the pick-up. It lasted a few seconds, then vanished.

“Did you see that?!” the woman asked.

“Yeah.” The man slowed to a crawl as their rental car approached the Silverado. There was no one in sight. Just a burn mark near the grill. It looked as if the dirt was still smoldering.

“Ya see? A mirage. Musta been the engine smokin’ or somethin’. Made ya see the outline of a man.”

The woman was forced to agree. “Guess you’re right. He couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air. Maybe we’ll spot him up ahead.”

He furrowed his brow. “Whatta place to break down at. I hope he had some water. It’s hot as hell out here.”