Cowboy Necromancer: Infinite Dusk

by Harmon Cooper

  Sterling turned away, but the Sunflower Kid didn’t follow him.

  “You too?” He begrudgingly put his revolver away and returned his focus to Don Gasper. “Whatever this is,” he said, gesturing toward Magdalena and back to the shaman, “it’s going to get your crazy ass killed. Mark my words. And as for you,” he told the Sunflower Kid, “I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking. These people have tried to kill me multiple times. They tried to kill Raylan and Sierra, and…” He didn’t mention Maria by name, the native who Ram had delivered to them, her head in a block of ice. “I can’t in good conscience be part of whatever this is about to be.”

  “Just hear them out,” Don Gasper said, exasperation in his voice. “Sterling, that’s all I’m asking. You’ve trusted me up to this point, no? I led you to the Sunflower Kid, and now you’re here. We have a solution, a way to get Roxy and the technomancer. Think about that; think about what you need from the White Sands Militia. You can war with the Killbillies later. They will never be strong enough to take you on, not without an army of mancers.”

  “Shee-it,” Sterling said as he kicked a rock. He equipped his supplies and rolled up a cigarette. The two Killbillies on ATVs were stopped about a hundred feet away from them, waiting for the group to follow them. Once again, Sterling looked to the Sunflower Kid, the teenager expressionless. For some reason, he found comfort in how calm she was, and even though this went against his nature, Don Gasper had been right in the past. He had also been right three years ago when he warned Sterling against what he was trying to do; and he had been right in the ritual he performed that gave Sterling the location of the Sunflower Kid. Sterling placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. “I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this.”

  “Yes,” Gasper said with a big smile. “You are seeing reason.”

  “Gasper, if this shit turns sour, I’m shooting you first. Then you,” he said, pointing his cigarette at Magdalena.

  Magdalena swept some of her hair out of her face, her eyes flaring with indignation. “There’s no need for grandstanding. They have agreed to meet with you. Let’s see what they have to say.”

  Sterling finished his cigarette by the time they reached an escarpment, where he noticed a rocky trail that led down into a camp full of tents, about half the size of the supply camp back in Radium Springs. There were plenty of Killbillies out, maybe fifty or sixty in total, all armed and standing near the center of the camp. Sterling recognized the largest tent of the pack, one with an air conditioning unit.

  “Motherfucker,” he whispered as Don Gasper approached him, the shaman placing his hand on Sterling’s arm.

  “Be calm. You have to get Roxy and this technomancer. Magdalena set this up, and there will be no violence here today.”

  “No violence…” he grumbled in disgust. “If anyone thinks that I’m giving these pinche banditos my weapons…” Sterling pointed toward the middle of the camp. “That tent there belongs to Commodore Bones, or ‘Beto, as I like to call him. Do you actually realize what you have done here? You’ve set up a meeting between someone I want to kill, and someone who wants me dead. How is this going to end in anything but a shootout?” Sterling took a quick look around to find Magdalena standing a few steps away, the Sunflower Kid with her. He kicked at a stone. “I need me some animates. I ain’t going down there without some recruits.”

  “You need to be more nuanced,” Gasper told him. “Not every situation calls for you to bust down the door and start shooting people. The enemy of your enemy is your friend, no? You can go back to being at each other’s throats after, but—”

  “Stop all your bullshit, Gasper. I don’t think you’re hearing me correctly. I don’t care if the Killbillies and the White Sands Militia are enemies. I hope them suckers kill each other. I just want to get Roxy and this technomancer out of there. That’s it.”

  “Do you care about New Mexico?”

  “What’s there to care about? It’s no longer a state. It’s a landscape, part of a region.”

  “But you care, no?”

  “Dammit, Gasper, don’t be using my affinity for the state of New Mexico against me.”

  “And what about Texas?”

  “Texas? Texas can go to hell.”

  “Ah, then you should know that the White Sands Militia is now working with the Texas Rangers. They’re planning to push further into the state, and the military base, where Roxy and the technomancer are being held, is going to be theirtheir… como se dice? Principal punto de entrada… main entry, the main point of entry into New Mexico.”

  “You better be right about this.”

  “Trust me, Sterling. I’ve been thinking for the last several days of a solution to this problem, and this is the best I have. The one who searches finds. ¿El que busca encuentra, no?”

  Sterling took another look at the Killbilly camp, watching as their leader emerged from the central tent. He spotted Commodore Bones’ smug grin and spat again. “Goddammit, Gasper.”

  Commodore Bones gestured for them to join him. The heavyset man was in better clothing than his followers, his reflective orange shades on his forehead, his white beard nicely trimmed, a holstered firearm at his side.

  The Sunflower Kid hopped down from her pronghorn and stepped up to Sterling. “You can do this,” she said so only he could hear.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”

  “At least hear them out.”

  Sterling snorted as Don Gasper took the lead, followed by Magdalena, the two of them heading down a pathway that was lined with armed Killbillies, all eyes on Sterling. “We’re making a big mistake,” he said under his breath as he took a step forward, the Sunflower Kid joining him.

  “Mr. Monedero,” Commodore Bones said as Sterling reached him. “Always a pleasure. I would extend my hand, but then both of our hands would be dirty.”

  “Cut the bull crap. The way I see it, this state ain’t big enough for the two of us, ‘Beto, and after what you have attempted to do to me, you should be thanking your lucky stars I haven’t shot you in the pecker just for the hell of it. I ain’t done,” Sterling said, stopping Commodore Bones before he could comment, “and I want all your little bitch ass foot soldiers to hear it too—”

  “—Come, I have something to show you,” Commodore Bones said, motioning toward his tent.

  “But I ain’t done yet.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Sterling spat. “I told you back in Radium Springs, and I’m telling you now, I ain’t never going to join you…”

  “That’s not what I remember you saying,” said the Commodore, still grinning at Sterling in a way that was really starting to get under his skin. “I remember you telling me that you’d thought things over, that you would help me. And here you are. It appears as if I’ve won.”

  “Won? Like hell you’ve won. I’m here because of my friends,” he said, barely able to get the words out. This was a trap, Sterling knew it. He didn’t know how yet, but Magdalena was involved, she had duped Don Gasper. The Sunflower Kid was too naïve to understand what was going on, she hadn’t seen the way these vandals behaved, nor had she seen the bounty hunter they sent after him. But what was the Commodore’s angle? What was he actually planning?

  “Please, join me in my tent. I believe you will come around once you see what we are working on.”

  “I should string every one of you up,” Sterling said as he gritted his teeth.

  “Before you do anything, you should probably hear what I have to say. Then you can make your own decision. We’re not going to force you to stay,” Commodore Bones said, once again gesturing toward his tent.

  A few of the Killbillies behind him seemed to step closer; Sterling whipped around, his revolver already in his hand. “Y’all trying to come up behind me?”

  “No one will do anything,” the Sunflower Kid said quietly. It was then that Sterling saw that there were a series of plant tendrils lifting just behind the Killbillies. He slowly l
owered his weapon.

  “Say what you need to say, ‘Beto,” he told the leader of the Killbillies. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Calm yourself,” Gasper told Sterling as he passed him.

  “Gasper, don’t you start in with me.”

  Upon entering the tent, Sterling found that several whiteboards had been erected with detailed schematics of the former Air Force Base sketched onto them.

  “The White Sands Militia is now working with the Texas Rangers,” the Commodore began to say.

  “Already heard that.”

  “Good, then you know what kind of threat this creates for all of us. I am a patriot, as you are well aware, one who wants to rebuild the state of New Mexico into something it has never been before, stronger than it was before the Reset, less impoverished, a proverbial powerhouse in the region. But if we are host to an invasion, especially one coming from Texas, it won’t be long before my vision, one of a Southwest union, is squashed.”

  Sterling stared at the bearded man incredulously. “Is this what déjà vu feels like? I swear to Christ I’ve already heard this bullshit before. You already told me your little life story, ‘Beto, and I wasn’t interested then, and I damn sure ain’t interested now. Get to your point.”

  The Commodore’s eyes narrowed on Sterling. “I don’t think you understand what would happen if the Texas Rangers moved into New Mexico. From the intelligence that we’ve gathered, they have reintroduced the slave trade to West Texas, and have spread east to San Antonio. And these aren’t the Rangers you may be thinking of from a history book; no, these are a new breed, made up of miscreants and prisoners, deplorables.”

  “So, they’re basically Killbillies,” Sterling said, pointing out the obvious. “You didn’t say anything about rapists, you could add that in there, kidnappers, too. Probably a few other words you could use. Extortionists?”

  “Killbillies—”

  “How about people too cowardly to pull the trigger themselves? The kind of assholes that would do something like, I don’t know, hire a sociopathic bounty hunter? You’re pretty book smart, is there a word for someone that would do something like that? Me, I’d use the word ‘chickenshit,’ but that’s just me.”

  “What are you insinuating?” Commodore Bones asked.

  “Do not make me spell it out for you in front of these good people, or good enough,” Sterling said, returning Magdalena’s icy glare. “We all know what you did. I already told them, and I’ve already seen the repercussions of your actions. Ram. Does that name ring a bell? If not, that’s the bounty hunter you sent after me.”

  “I didn’t send a bounty hunter,” the Commodore said smoothly. “It must have been one of the others who sent him, Del or Nina.”

  “I don’t care if it was your long-lost grandmother who lives in Tulsa and raises blind ferrets for a living. It relates directly to you, and the way that your people do business. So what I’m trying to say here is—and really try to think about the words that are coming out of my mouth this time—there ain’t no difference between you, the Texas Rangers, or the White Sands Militia in my book. You’re all a bunch of good-for-nothing opportunists that excel in terrorizing folks, and I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if the Rangers are coming here. So if you think that that is going to persuade me into taking part in your little military operation, then you thought wrong.”

  “You want Roxy. She is here,” Commodore Bones said as he pointed at one of the whiteboards, his voice starting to thin. Sterling had finally struck a nerve. “This is where they are holding prisoners, at an old middle school. That’s why you came here, right?”

  “I came here…” Sterling grunted. “Yes, and to help an old friend, who apparently doesn’t need help,” he said, gesturing toward Don Gasper. The shaman held Sterling’s gaze for a moment and then looked away, back to Magdalena.

  “That’s where she is. That’s where they are keeping all their prisoners, including some of ours. Before you storm out of here accusing my fine organization of terrorism, or puff your chest out in an attempt to intimidate me, you should understand something: we are ready to go. Del’s forces are here,” Commodore Bones said, tapping on a red X scrawled on the map. “Nina’s forces are here. Ours are here. You see what’s happening? We’re going to flank them, but what we don’t want is a siege. They have enough supplies in there to keep them nice and happy for a good while. We need someone who can help us get through their initial line of defense, especially their automatic weapons. Last I heard, you can animate the dead, and she can spawn plants for them to shoot at,” he said, gesturing toward the Sunflower Kid. “Think about what I’m saying here. We send in a wave of your plants and animates to piss away some of their bullets. As soon as they’re shot through, we send in another. We keep doing this until they are almost out. Then we move.”

  “Don’t you have mancers?”

  “We do, but they have them as well, and ours will likely be engaging theirs. That’s all we’re asking here. You send in waves of zombies to cut through their ammunition, then we do the heavy lifting.”

  “It sounds like we’re the ones doing the heavy lifting in this scenario.”

  “No, not at all. After a few rounds, you are good to go. Fight your way into the prison and rescue Roxy, and leave for all I care. We will handle everything from there.”

  “And then let me guess, the Killbillies are now in charge of the base, meaning you have a hold over this region as well, which means, for all intents and purposes, you would pretty much run the southern part of New Mexico. East to west. Sound about right?”

  “Well, that is—”

  “—Why on God’s barren wasteland would I want to see your group of armed hoodlums and limp-dicked mouth-breathers with that much power? If anything, I want the Killbillies to have less power. I would love to see you splintered off because of your losses here; I’d love to never see a yellow bandana again.”

  “And let Texas move in?”

  “To hell with Texas, you already know my opinion on the Rangers. Same-same but different.”

  “It would destabilize everything, including your beloved peppers. You realize that, right?” the Commodore asked, his eyes angry black beads, his nose crinkled as he tried not to snarl.

  “In case you couldn’t tell, I ain’t in the pepper business no longer. So if you think you’re going to be able to hold peppers over me, well, sorry, pendejo.”

  Gasper came to Sterling’s side. “I think we should consider this. I have…” The old shaman nodded. “Yes, I’ve had a vision, and you need Roxy, and we need their help. Even with you and the Sunflower Kid, there may be too many militiamen and enemy mancers to rescue her. There are only two of you, and as strong as you are, we’re talking well over a thousand soldiers. Isn’t that right?” he asked Commodore Bones.

  “Somewhere between a thousand and fifteen hundred is our estimate, that’s right, Mr. Gasper.”

  Sterling shook his head. To imagine such a small group was able to hold court over such a large area was pathetic.

  “With backup a real possibility,” the Commodore added. “None of our scouts have seen them yet, but there are rumors that the Rangers are heading this way. If we can take the base, we will be able to hold them off.”

  “Gasper…” Sterling said, now ignoring Commodore Bones.

  The shaman stepped over to him. “This is the only way, Sterling.”

  Sterling spat, even though he was inside Commodore Bones’ tent, his spit landing on the carpet.

  “Think about Roxy. The militia must be powerful if they are able to keep her from escaping,” Don Gasper said in a low voice.

  “Yeah…” Sterling shook his head. “I just don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”

  “You don’t have to like it. Get Roxy, and then continue on toward Albuquerque. Focus on your mission.”

  “My mission?”

  “The Godwalkers.”

  Sterling clenched his fists together. “Shee-it…”


  .Chapter Six.

  Sterling spent most of the day pacing back and forth, smoking, sitting in the shade, and glaring at the camp, the cowboy necromancer putting on quite the show. Aside from the occasional thought of vengeance, Sterling was mostly mad at himself for having let things get to this point. There were a couple times that he started walking back toward Alamogordo only to be stopped by the Sunflower Kid, who had been tasked with watching him.

  “You’ve already agreed to go along with this,” she reminded him the third time she caught up with him.

  “I know, and I know I’m making a damn fool of myself right now, but I’ve seen first-hand what these people are capable of. And now we’re teaming up with them? I can’t…” Sterling took off his hat and looked up at the sky for a moment, squinting at the sun. It was late afternoon now, and it would be night soon, their plan arranged to take place in the early morning.

  “Look at it differently,” the Sunflower Kid suggested. “There are over a thousand militiamen there. There’s a chance we could handle an amount like that, but one small error, or if one of us went down, and it would be all over.”

  “But…” Sterling knew she was right. He also knew that he had put his most recent Technique Points in his sneak abilities, that were more ways to skin a cat. He’d explained this to the Sunflower Kid the last time she’d stopped him.

  “We need them.”

  “Need them? Like hell we need the Killbillies. As much as I like Don Gasper, he’s wrong here. We’re going to get screwed. Mark my words, Kid.”

  “You have been saying that, and I haven’t disagreed with you yet. That’s why we get Roxy and the technomancer, and we leave. We don’t have to stick around.”

  Sterling looked back over to the Killbilly camp. There were still a few of the bandits watching him, but most were trying to get some rest before the night’s events, and Commodore Bones was in his tent entertaining Magdalena and Don Gasper. Gasper wasn’t normally a negotiator; usually, the old shaman was the one that needed to be negotiated with, which was throwing Sterling off guard. In the last twenty-four hours, everything had been turned on its head, it was all wrong.