Cowboy Necromancer: Infinite Dusk

by Harmon Cooper

  “I told him…” she said, biting her lip. “I told him not to go out there.”

  “Out where?”

  “Between here and Rincon, about two miles off the highway, there’s an amalgamation that has claimed that area as its territory. A big scorpion one. I heard it was fifteen feet long.”

  “And this amalgamation killed Judge?” Sterling asked.

  “It sure did, at least as far as I know. Judge went out with a couple of locals to hunt it; only one of the men came back. He died two days later from his wounds.”

  “Sounds like someone needs to do something about that amalgamation.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Sterling shrugged. “It’s either go that way, or head straight into the Killbilly supply camp down in Radium Springs. I think I’ll take my chances with the scorpion. I’ve handled an amalgamation or two before, and I’ll gladly do so again, especially in honor of my old friend Judge Toadvine.”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t you worry, Judge and I ain’t exactly alike when it comes to killing things. I’m not saying he wasn’t a tough old bastard, I’m just saying we ain’t exactly alike.”

  Her eyes dropped to the revolver at his waist and his sickle-sword. “If you say so.”

  “Yup, I say so. What’s your baby’s name anyway?” Sterling asked, nodding to the child. “Sure is a cute little fella.”

  “His name is Sterling,” she said as she showed him the baby’s face. “Judge said he was named after a friend of his.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

  “Do you know Sterling?”

  “Know him?” He gestured toward himself with both thumbs. “I am him.”

  The woman looked from her child up to the man wearing all black, a cowboy hat on his head and his dark hair long tucked behind his ears.

  “Is he one of the Adapted?” Sterling asked once she didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t know. He hasn’t exhibited any powers yet, except a mean bite,” she said as she brought her hand to her nipple.

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Welp, I guess, um, Sterling meet Sterling.” The woman lifted the baby to him, so the child could lay his soft black eyes on the cowboy necromancer.

  “Don’t you worry, little dude,” Sterling said as he placed a finger under the baby’s chin. “I’m going to avenge your daddy’s death, just you wait.”

  “Please be careful,” she said as she brought the baby back to her chest.

  “I’ll try to stop by again,” Sterling said, tipping his hat to her. “Have a nice rest of your day.” He was just about to turn away again when he stopped. “One last thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sort of a strange question, but is there a cemetery around here?”

  “Sure is, why?”

  “No reason. Just want to pay my respects to the dead.”

  “I already done told you, Judge ain’t buried there,” she said as her child started to act up again.

  “I’ll pay my respects anyway,” Sterling told her, not elaborating what he planned to do at the cemetery.

  It was time to summon some fresh recruits.

  .Chapter Five.

  Sterling rode south, keeping a mile or so off of the interstate, heading west of the Rio Grande River. He wasn’t excited about trying to sniff out the amalgamation that had killed Judge, but he knew that he could use the XP. Sterling was close to Level 60, and once he hit it, he would be granted a new title and a class proficiency bonus, which he could use to improve one of his abilities. With what he was about to go up against, considering he planned to take on the Godwalkers, he could use all the boosts he could get.

  As he traveled, Sterling took a quick look at what locals referred to as the Buy Store. In the same way that his stats floated before him when he wanted to see them, appearing as if he had pressed the button in his mind, the Buy Store took shape as well. It was here that he could spend his Technique Points, which was something Sterling hadn’t done since the incident three years ago. Three years of saving up points, and he only had a measly twenty-three Technique Points, which was something he hoped to address in the future by acquiring a charm.

  The two techniques he had spent some time on appeared before him.

  Sword Expert Level 4 - 30 Technique Points to Level 5

  Marksmanship Level 6 - 36 Technique Points to Level 7

  He wasn’t too far from leveling up his sword skills, and he certainly could continue to save points until he had thirty so he could bump himself up to Level 5, but he was in a spending mood. Sterling knew from the last time he had browsed the Buy Store, which admittedly had been a while ago, that there were plenty of other techniques available to him, classified by three main categories:

  Stealth

  Combat

  Perception

  Sterling figured, even if he was able to get around the Killbilly supply camp in Radium Springs, that stealth would be the best way forward. So he went for it, mentally selecting this option as a skill tree appeared.

  Sterling hadn’t put any thought into stealth before. He’d always figured the best way forward was for him to strong-arm his way in any situation. But that hadn’t worked before, and over the last three years in Truth or Consequences, he’d had plenty of time to think about the mistakes he made on his last go-around.

  Sterling saw that there were three new options available to him, each accompanied by a description.

  Sneak Proficiency: Improve your ability to use your surroundings to stalk and perform other clandestine tasks. Higher levels allow for better understanding of the physical aspects of stealth.

  Cover of Night: Better understand the usage of shadow and light, as well as enhanced stamina when moving discreetly at night. Higher levels allow for night vision.

  Assassination: Discreetly kill enemies that are within your level range. Higher levels allow for stealthier kills.

  Sterling mentally selected Sneak Proficiency.

  Spend two Technique Points to learn Sneak Proficiency?

  Sterling agreed to this, and he also went ahead and learned the next two levels as well, so that he was now at Level Three, and down nine Technique Points overall. He still had fourteen points left, and he figured gaining a level in Cover of Night, and two levels in Assassination would come in handy. The prompt flashed again, asking him if he wanted to spend Technique Points to learn Assassination. He did so, and then doubled down, moving up to Level Two. He then moved to Cover of Night.

  Spend two Technique Points to learn Cover of Night?

  “Here we go,” Sterling said, which left him with seven Technique Points to use another time. A prompt told him that he had unlocked a new ability.

  You have unlocked Disguise. Spend three Technique Points to activate it?

  “Disguise, huh?” Sterling asked as he read the description.

  Disguise: Learn to better disguise yourself so you can fit in anywhere. Higher levels allow for greater perception of what will work, as well as voice modification.

  “Maybe not just yet,” Sterling said as he took a quick look at all of the techniques he now had. He really needed to get a charm that would give him a boost every time he gained a level.

  Combat:

  Sword Expert Level 4 - 30 Technique Points to Level 5

  Marksmanship Level 6 - 36 Technique Points to Level 7

  Stealth:

  Sneak Proficiency Level 3 - 14 Technique Points to Level 4

  Assassination Level 2 - 9 Technique Points to Level 3

  Cover of Night Level 1 - 3 Technique Points to Level 2

  Sterling started to pick up his pace, only to remember that he was being trailed by fifteen animates that he had picked up in the graveyard outside of Hatch. Some of the zombies were a bit more mangled than others, but they would serve as an army to take on the amalgamation. All fifteen of them shuffled behind him, mindless as always, Sterling leading his small army of the undead toward the location that the
young woman had told him about.

  It was a bit of a side quest, but Sterling wasn’t the type to let anyone, or in this case, anything, kill his friend. Not only that, Judge had named his child after Sterling, which only made him thirstier for revenge. That young girl is going to have to raise a child on her own, and in a world like this, Sterling thought as he shook his head. Shit ain’t right.

  He knew from past experience that it wouldn’t be too hard to spot the amalgamation, especially around a place like this. While there were mountains in the distance, and a mesa on the other side of the highway, the land surrounding Hatch was pretty flat. That’s what made it such a great place to grow peppers, and the Rio Grande River wasn’t too far off either, another boon with its runoffs and tributaries.

  It was warm now, Sterling glad that the brim of his cowboy hat was casting a shadow over his face. As he took a look around, he noticed a change, something modified about his perception. There was nothing unusual in his surroundings, but something about his perception had changed. He saw the colors in a different way, slightly more vibrant; he also naturally found himself looking for good places he could duck behind if some Killbillies rolled up on ATVs.

  “Just a little detour,” he told his bone horse. “Don’t you fret, Pingo. We do this, and then we head to Las Cruces and find us a crazy old shaman named Don Gasper.”

  And Don Gasper was just the start. Sterling knew that there were others that he needed to find—three people in particular—especially if he wanted to try to deal with the Godwalkers once and for all. As much as he didn’t want to, and as much as he tried to stay away from superstitions, Sterling actually believed in Don Gasper’s unique shamanic powers. He’d seen them work firsthand, and if anyone knew where to start the search for the others, it would be Gasper.

  Some vultures caught his attention, and Sterling followed them to a carcass. It wasn’t human, but he could tell that something big had killed the gazelle, and whatever it was had snapped the creature in half. “Yup, should be around here,” Sterling told Manchester as he drew his revolver.

  The plan was to get his animates to flip the amalgamation over, exposing its soft belly, which worked best on both the scorpion and the armadillo amalgamations. Sterling hoped to make it a quick kill. The longer it took, the higher his chances of being injured were.

  Sterling came across more corpses, some of them human. He didn’t see anyone that looked like Judge Toadvine, but they were in pretty bad shape, parts of their bodies bulbous and swollen, the coyotes and other critters picking them apart. If any of them were still viable, he would have animated them, but they were all too far gone, too mangled and rotten.

  “Easy there,” Sterling told his horse once he noticed some tracks on the ground that looked like something had been dragged. He hopped off Manchester and began to creep toward an escarpment, his fifteen animates staying behind him. Once he reached the top of the ridge, Sterling tilted his head down to find exactly what he was looking for.

  The scorpion amalgamation was parked just outside a large hole in the ground. Sure enough, just like the young woman had said, it was about fifteen feet long, its body that of a scorpion, its head the skull of a cow. The amalgamation was dark brown bordering on black, not unlike certain kinds of peppers after they dried out. Its pincers were red, and there were sinister markings on its thorax.

  “Ugly bastard,” Sterling whispered. He licked his lips. It was going to be hell taking on the amalgamation, and he knew it.

  He slowly backed away from the ridge, his animates doing the same. He gestured for them to wait. Sterling equipped the tobacco and the papers he picked up at the old church in Hatch. He rolled up a cigarette and lit it. The man who had sold him the tobacco kept telling Sterling he had mota, which was Mexican slang for marijuana. Sterling had grabbed a quarter ounce of that as well, to be smoked later in celebration or traded. But first, he needed something to celebrate.

  Sterling puffed on the cigarette for a moment, working up a little courage to take on the amalgamation. He remembered the first amalgamation that he had seen, easily the length of several school buses. It was a serpent, its head that of a bird. The Godwalkers had a thing for making these kinds of creatures, these abominations. They had appeared right after the Reset, terrorizing an already terrorized populace. There weren’t that many of them, but the ones that were around were hard to kill, and worth a fair amount of XP.

  “Let’s roll,” Sterling told his animates as he tossed what was left of his cigarette to the ground. Before leading his animates forward, he equipped his water jug and took a swig. He took another swig, wiped his mouth, and went for his revolver again.

  Sterling waved his fifteen zombies forward and they took off down the ridge, heading straight toward the amalgamation. The shuffling undead kicked up a fair amount of dust, two of them falling over one another and quickly picking themselves back up. As predicted, their sudden appearance took the amalgamation by surprise. The giant scorpion with a cow skull for a head first retreated into its hole. It soon shot back out to engage them, using its pincers to snap through the legs of the first animate.

  The amalgamation’s enormous stinger came around and dug into the head of one of Sterling’s animates. Rather than scream or squirm, the living corpse shot its hands out and wrapped them around the monster’s long post-abdomen. The gigantic scorpion tried to whip the animate away, which only had the effect of ripping the man’s head off and sending his body flying the opposite direction. But the animate didn’t need his head to engage the scorpion. Back in the fight, the headless corpse leaped onto the amalgamation’s body and simply held on while the others tried to ram into it.

  His creations weren’t that smart, but they could perform simple tasks that were miraculously linked to Sterling in a telepathic way. He couldn’t even remember now if he had told them to try to knock the thing over or not, they just knew.

  His nerves coming to him all at once, Sterling took off down the ridge and began firing his revolver. One of the bullets smashed into the amalgamation’s skull, sending up bits of bone. There was no brain in there, so it didn’t neutralize so much as annoy the monster. An animate was tossed backward; Sterling stepped aside just in time to avoid the flying corpse. He fired another shot into the side of the amalgamation’s body. It actually broke through its armor, the creature scuttling a few steps back.

  “Come on!” Sterling called to his animates as he threw his arm forward, mentally encouraging them to tilt the beast over. “Knock that son of a bitch over!”

  They managed to almost tip it over as Sterling fired more shots. Two of his animates latched onto the scorpion’s tail and began holding it down, while the rest overpowered the giant scorpion and flipped it onto its back. They held the tail down, three others hopping onto one of the pincers. The amalgamation tried to flip itself back onto its feet, a high-pitched sound meeting Sterling’s ears as it struggled. He fired nine more shots. Before he fired his last and final shot, he lowered his head to his revolver and dedicated the bullet to his recently deceased friend. “This one’s for you, Judge. May you rest in peace, amigo.”

  Bam!

  The amalgamation stopped struggling.

  You have received 2,431 EXP!

  “Goddamn right,” Sterling said, the prompt slowly fading away. He dropped his hand, his animates all falling at once, Sterling feeling a surge of energy as the seventy-five Mana Points he had tapped to summon the zombies were returned to him.

  He let out a deep breath, holstered his revolver, and placed his hands on his hips, the adrenaline still racing through his system. Sterling was just about to take a few steps closer to the dead amalgamation when something struck him in the back of the head, everything going black.

  He came awake a few minutes later, his hands cuffed behind his back, a brown cotton bag over his head, making it impossible to see. He tried to struggle, but was kicked in the back, and landed on his knees.

  He whistled as loud as he could.


  “Shut the hell up!” a voice growled at him.

  He whistled two more times and paused, followed by a final long whistle. Manchester would know what to do. Sterling was struck once again in the back of the head by the butt of a rifle.

  Lala land.

  “Would you look at that…” a man said, his voice raspy and low. “I can’t believe it’s really him. Who would have thought? I’m sorry we don’t have a crown of thorns for you, Mr. Monedero, but I might have a flectomancer who can craft one out of barbed wire if you’d like.”

  Sterling’s vision blurred into existence. He was strung up on a wooden crucifix, just like the stained-glass images he’d seen back in the Spanish Church of God Filadelfia. There was a stinging pain from the stakes that had been hammered through his hands, his body tied to the wooden crucifix by rope, his legs roped off as well.

  He could feel the sun beating down on him, his throat parched, pain screaming through him. Sterling didn’t know what they had done to knock him out, but somehow, the Killbillies had kept him down long enough to crucify him. Judging by the faint smell at the tip of his nostrils, he wondered if they’d use some type of chemical to keep him down. Because of the sun’s current location, Sterling couldn’t see too far past the men standing in front of him, but what he could see was certainly a supply camp.

  “I’m going to kill you dead,” he growled.

  “So those are going to be the first words out of your mouth, huh?” the man asked as he peered up at Sterling. “They did say you were a tough son of a bitch, but tough sons of bitches aren’t that hard to come by these days.”

  Sterling wasn’t far off the ground, maybe a foot or so, and as he glared down at the man, he saw that he was an older fellow, with a stubbly white beard and reflective orange wraparound sunglasses, Sterling’s black cowboy hat in his hands. Heavyset, the man wore body armor and had a pistol with a silver grip holstered at his thigh. He had the same bandanna as the other Killbillies, but his clothing was nicer, the man decked out in desert camouflage without stains. No visible tattoos either.