“Oh…holy shit," Kyle muttered to himself.
The Scavenger’s heart skipped a beat. This was exactly his luck, he finally hits the motherlode, the find that’ll get him out of this crummy life hopefully for good. Then literally stumble into a killer that offers up an escort to take him back home, and it just leads him right into a raider ambush, on purpose. But maybe the worst part about it was that Coal seemed to think this was just business as usual, just another day at the offices of Wasteland Inc.
Sensing Kyle’s unease, Coal reached over and put a hand on the Scavenger’s shoulder as if they were old friends.
“Just relax, Kyle. The last thing anybody needs is for you to freak out and do something stupid. That’s how people get hurt, and by hurt, of course, I mean dead,” the Indian said, using the same hushed tones as he would on a startled animal or a very simple friend.
“I guess I should start with a bit of an explanation,” Coal said. “You see; this particular group is a little bit smarter than what I usually run across. They have been laying low for the most part. They pick their targets carefully, avoiding groups that look too big for them to handle. They also have avoided me when I come through this way alone. Seems they have heard about a certain Indian that has a reputation, as well, you know.”
Kyle cut in and offered, “As a stone-cold killer?”
“Yep, that’s the one,” Coal replied pointing a finger at Kyle before he continued on.
“So, when I came across you out there. Guided to you by a falling star and shit, I start to think maybe it’s a fucking sign. Just maybe two riders would be enough to tempt them. Not too big, not too small you see. Kinda like Goldilocks and those bears. They know me, but they have never seen me with another rider out here. Maybe they’ll figure that must make you somebody important, to be able to hire a guide like me, with horses and guns. Maybe you have got something worth a whole lot, and I’m along to protect it and you both. That and these fine examples of horseflesh, even my lucky mule back there. That’s a hell of a lot of temptation for folks out on the fringe like these.”
Kyle had unconsciously reached behind him and put a hand on his pack at the Indians mention of valuable cargo. He forced himself to take a breath and move his hand back to the useless reins, hoping the move seemed natural. This really wasn’t happening; this didn’t make any damn sense.
“But wait a minute, if you’re half as dangerous as everyone says you are then why don’t you just ride up there and gun them down? Why all this hide and seek bullshit?” an edge to Kyle’s words.
“Kyle, please. This isn’t some crappy late night T.V. western. Any damned fool that would rush alone upslope at a prepared enemy wouldn’t last long enough to earn a reputation. They wouldn’t even need guns, hell spears, pit traps, deadfalls, maybe even start a rock slide. They could kill you with a single lucky fucking thrown stone to the old melon if you got close enough. The truth is it’s just like hunting anything, the hunter chooses the ground. Now believe me when I say this particular stretch of desert is their ground. They know every bush and rock. That’s why tonight, we chose the ground, we set the ambush, and we let them walk into it and by we, I mean of course me and not you.”
With that Coal snickered to his horse and rode ahead again, leaving Kyle with just his thoughts of the bloodshed to come.
Ambush
Less than an hour later, with the sun beginning to set, Coal led them to what at one time would have been a dingy roadside motel. Now all the burned out ruins could boast was a brick wall 6 feet high at the back and drunkenly tapering off to just a foot at the building’s front. The footings and some broken baseboards were all that remained of the interior walls. A large mound of charcoal showed the site had been used by many different groups of people passing by. A badly cracked toilet bowl now resting on its side sat in one corner. A moldering, partially burned sofa rested against a wall. Half of a hot water heater tank was laying on its side and looked as if it had been used to water animals at some point.
Coal dismounted and began to methodically unpack the mounts. He moved quickly without as much as a glance in Kyle’s direction. The Scavenger, feeling a bit out of place, untied his ground cloth and much-used blanket and laid them out on one side of the fire pit. He looked up and watched Coal move the pack animals to the back of the structure where the wall was the highest. The Indian then examined all of the beasts, in turn, paying special attention to their hooves. Apparently content with what he had found he poured water into a collapsible canvas pail, taking care to allow each animal to drink its fair share.
Kyle turned back to his own pack. He had no idea what the Indian had planned, the two had ridden on in silence after spotting the raiders. He removed the magnum from his belt and a small pouch of tools and laid them side by side on the blanket. In his tool pouch he always carried a small squirt bottle of oil, picking up the magnum he opened the cylinder and let his four precious rounds fall into his hand. Each showed bits of discoloration on the brass, signs of corrosion, but he wiped the rounds down and slipped them into his pocket. He then moved on to the revolver, wiping down the gun and oiling all of the moving parts. He dared not take it apart from any further than that, he wasn’t sure he would be able to put it back together. He had fired it only twice in the last 15 years and was convinced it had saved his life both times. But he had never been forced to kill with it.
The Scavenger froze, feeling as if he was being watched, he lifted his head and Coal was standing over him watching him closely.
“Awfully nice shooting iron you got there pale face, mind if I have a look?” Coal asked. Kyle fought back the urge to refuse and then feeling foolish handed the Indian the magnum butt first.
The Indian hefted the revolver, opened the cylinder several times and worked the action. He then held the gun up and angled the last rays of the sun to try and look down the barrel. He smiled and handed it back, butt first to Kyle. As Kyle reached to take it, Coal held on to it.
“This piece hasn’t been fired in a long time, starting to get some rust in the barrel. Nothing serious, but you should run a brush down next time you get a chance. But it makes me wonder, how long has it been since you have had to shoot a man?” Coal asked his face smiling but his eyes serious.
Kyle looked up into the Indian’s dark eyes. “Never Coal, I’ve never had to kill before. I have kept myself alive this long, by being careful and doing my best to avoid trouble. I figure there is enough death already in this shitty world. I don’t go hunting it for pay or for pride,” Kyle was shouting by the end, and he almost added, “like you.” but he didn’t, and from the look on Coal’s face, he hadn’t needed too. The Indian’s smile was gone, his face blank. He let go of the end of Kyle’s revolver, stood and returned to the horses.
The Scavenger shook his head, wiping down the revolver one more time before reloading the four bullets. That was stupid, what was he thinking? Provoking the only man for miles that wouldn’t kill him on sight. Belittling the very skills, the Indian would need to see them both alive through the night. The truth was he was scared. He didn’t want to be here baiting killers. He wanted to be on his way home to Anna. He turned as Coal approached him again.
The Indian carried a double-barreled shotgun, low in one hand and walked toward the Scavenger with a pace that spoke of purpose. Kyle actually gulped, he didn’t think people actually did that when scared, but it was apparently true. The Scavenger stood the magnum still in his hand, he let it hang low by his side.
Coal stood in front of Kyle, his expression unreadable. The silence became awkward between them, and then the Indian spoke.
“Kyle, I was wrong to drag you into this. I just figured that with everything I had heard and as many times as I had crossed your back trail out here that you would be a good man to have along in a fight. I should have talked to you about it first," Coal was looking down at his boots as he spoke.
Kyle was a bit taken back. Everything he had heard about the scout led him to believe he
was more likely to kill a man than to apologize, these words had cost Coal something. Kyle couldn’t help himself, even though the Indian had purposefully dragged him into a fight he knew he was more scared than angry.
“Coal, I’m scared. I got a girl; she would be my wife if the world gave a shit about that type of thing anymore,” Kyle said.
Coal looked up at the Scavenger his grin returned. “Well, I guess you kinda dodged the bullet on that one now didn’t you? Believe me, I know what I’m talking about, I have been down the old aisle 4 times now.”
Kyle gave a forced laugh and Coal joined him. It was all they could do to break the tension.
“I’m going to make you a promise Tonto. You stick with me tonight, do exactly what I say, when I say it, and we will both come out of this thing. And maybe get a little bounty to boot,” the Indian said smiling.
“Ok Coal, I’ll follow your lead,” Kyle replied.
“First thing I want you to do is to forget the magnum. You’re going to take the shotty tonight,” Coal said, handing the shotgun to Kyle.
“Less aiming, no safety, no hammers, just point and pull the trigger. I’ve only got the 2 shells, but if you need more than that were probably up shit creek anyway. If you have to use both barrels just drop it and then go to work with the magnum.”
Kyle turned the shotgun over in his hands. At one time it had been a fine gun, the stock was checkered and the metal work engraved. Probably the prize of some rich bastard’s bird gun collection. Then at some point reality had set in and the barrel had been sawed off at about 16” turning it into a nasty street weapon. It had weight and felt good when Kyle raised it to his shoulder. He felt a little better already.
“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Kyle asked still aiming down the twin barrels.
“Well I saw this thing once in an old late night Western,” Coal said through his perpetual grin, and Kyle couldn’t tell If he was joking or not.
Hours later Kyle hurt all over. Not only was the day in the saddle catching up with him, but lying awake on the hard rubble-strewn ground for hours was not helping. The fire now had burned down to just embers. Coal had insisted they build a large fire and proceeded to burn up every bit of rotten baseboard and flooring the Indian could tear out of the ruin. He then carried the mule deer in from where it had been hanging in the back and began to cut strips of meat from it. The Indian laid out the plan for Kyle as the two roasted the meat strips on the end of sticks. The smell had been amazing, he couldn’t remember the last time he had fresh meat, not salted, not jerked, but fresh and juicy. The Scavenger stuffed his face while Coal explained what his T.V. based plan consisted of. From where Kyle now lay he could make out the outline of the Indian’s bedroll. The scout’s .30-06 lay within easy reach.
A sudden rustling sound from the horses at the back of the ruin was the only warning Kyle got when the attack started. He was instantly alert, wondered for half a second if he had actually heard anything or if he had just dreamed it. Then a scuff of a boot on dirt answered from the darkness on his right. A large fast moving silhouette burst from the shadows; a man mostly clad in rags leaped the short wall and in 2 quick strides was swinging a pickaxe at the sleeping Indian’s bedroll. Kyle watched frozen for a moment, a spectator to his own murder. A faint swishing noise cut the air, and an arrow appeared, jutting from Kyle’s own bedroll. The sounds of heavy wet smacking filled the ruin as the Raider's pick slammed again and again into the Indian’s bedroll. Then the smacking stopped, and Kyle held his breath. The raider stood over his kill, his back to Kyle. He kicked the bloodied blankets off to reveal the mutilated deer.
This was it, the “Oh Shit.” moment they had planned for, that Kyle was waiting for. Simple now, shoot from cover and put them down before they knew he was even there. At this range, no one could miss. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. Coal had been certain at least one would rush the fire, and he had been right, but an archer? They had never discussed that. As if to highlight the point a second arrow appeared in Kyle’s bedroll. The pick welding giant turned in Kyle’s direction, taking a closer look at his arrow pierced bedroll now.
Kyle looked too. That could have been him, would have been him if he had been out here alone. Riddled with arrows from the darkness. Bleeding to death far from home, and this big bastard would have caved his head in just for the pure joy of it. They would have stripped him of everything he was worth and then maybe eaten him to boot. He pictured Anna then, she would go on with her work, not even his death would stop her. But she would always wonder what happened to him, why hadn’t he returned? Had he just gone on without her? She would cry herself to sleep at night wondering. He found tears in his own eyes then, tears for her, tears for himself, tears of anger.
Then from the corner of his eye, a suddent, and violent movement brought Kyle snapping back to the present. At the back of the ruin just at the edge of the light, a tangle of limbs fought in the darkness. Kyle saw the glint of a steel blade and heard a gurgling cry as Coal, and the third man went down thrashing. The large raider’s head snapped up, and he turned running for the back of the ruin. A new target found for his rage.
Kyle stood straight up overturning the remnants of the hot water heater from his hastily dug hiding place. The thin steel tank crashed into the outer wall, the sudden noise broke the silence, and the big man looked up at him. Kyle raised the shotgun to his shoulder, and the big man changed course, swerving his path for Kyle now. His raised the pickaxe high and bellowed out a terrifying cry. There was no hesitation this time, Kyle looked straight down the barrel at his screaming attacker and pulled the trigger. The blast lit the small space in a quick flash. In a split second Kyle knew he had hit his man, hit him high, but he was down. The force of the blast stopped the charging raider dead in his tracks, and he landed on his back. One of his arms landed in the glowing coals of the campfire, but he was in no position to care.
The Scavenger was stunned, he stepped forward on shaky limbs and looked down at the man he had killed. Suddenly an arrow slipped from the darkness into the light and tugged at his right forearm. The sudden pain yanked him back to reality.
“Fuck you archer!” he shouted.
Raising the barrel, he fired his second shell blindly in the general direction from which arrow had appeared. The blast took him by surprise, and he fell backward over the dead man and landed on his back. Kyle may have hit his head, he wasn’t sure. Coal appeared over him. The Indian was shirtless, and his face and chest were covered in blood. The large hunting knife was still in his hand, likewise covered in crimson. But the most striking thing about him was his eyes, they were wild and impossibly large it seemed.
“How many more? Did you kill them?” the Indian demanded.
“Another, a third man in the brush,” Kyle raised a dazed hand and pointed to where he had fired in the darkness. The Indian took off at a dead run into the night. Not even bothering to take his rifle.
“He has a bow!” Kyle shouted as an afterthought and laid back down, his head spinning.
Coal was gone for over an hour. At some point, Kyle had sat up, rested the now useless shotgun across his lap and was simply staring at the headless corpse. Coal walked up and gingerly removed the dead man’s now blackened arm from the fire pit. The stink of burning hair and flesh filled the camp, but neither men mentioned it. Then retrieving a canteen sat down across the fire from Kyle.
Kyle spoke first, but his eyes were still on the dead man. “Did you kill the archer?”
“No, that one is hurt and running though. I found this up in the brush," Coal said holding up a piece of white plastic. “Piece of a bow riser, I think. Found some blood too. Your shot up there managed to wound him and take out his weapon. Pretty good shooting pale face.”
Kyle looked up at the Indian for the first time. The killer had run out of camp into the darkness, and the happy go lucky scout had returned. Coal was coated in a thick layer of dust. It had clung to the damp blood, only his mouth
and eyes were free of it. The mouth and eyes that grinned at him now. This was something to remember about Coal, a lesson about this man’s life. Underneath the dirt and the laughter, he was still covered in the blood of people he had killed. You just couldn’t always see it.
After a time, Coal stood, moved around the campfire and knelt next to Kyle. He handed over the canteen with a small smile. Kyle took it, mumbled his thanks and drank. The water was warm and flat. Kyle had no idea he was thirsty until the wetness touched his lips. He drank long and deep, far more than he should from a borrowed canteen. As has always been true, water in the desert is life. If Coal minded, he didn’t show it. The Indian was examining Kyle’s dead raider.
“Damn Tonto, didn’t I tell you to shoot low?” Coal asked a note of disgust in his voice.
Kyle thought for a moment. “No no, you didn’t.”
“Well damn it, I guess I should have then," Coal replied. “One of the key premises of bounty hunting is being able to prove that the contract is complete. If you blow off every fucking face you come up against out here that makes things rather difficult," Coal said in a mocking professor like tone.
“Does that mean no bounty?” Kyle asked, not really caring.
“Luckily for you, this one reads. Please kill the 3 unidentified assholes killing folks in the vicinity of such and such. I’m paraphrasing a bit, but you get the Idea. No description available,” the Indian said standing.
“How will the Council know you killed anyone at all and aren’t just lying? Let alone the right 3 assholes and not some innocents passing by?” asked Kyle standing as well.
Coal stared at Kyle as if shocked, his mouth shaped in an O of disbelief. “I’ll have you know sir, that I have a sterling reputation with our esteemed City Council. Together that distinguished body and I have worked hard for many years to keep these crumbling American highways and byways safe for travelers. They’ll take it upon my word alone that the task is complete, the contract is fulfilled, and a fair bounty will be negotiated from the city’s treasury,” Coal lectured in an indignant tone.
To Cross a Wasteland Page 5