The Jessie James Archives

by Craig Gallant

  The bartender said something to the corpse, again with a sheepish glance at the newcomers, and then had to repeat it several times before the animation nodded once, turned ponderously around, and shuffled back out the door. The stench of the thing lingered for quite a while before it faded into the general background stink of the town outside.

  The outlaws stared at the door for a moment before they turned back towards each other, the younger men with faces pale with disbelief.

  “He weren’t that fast, though… “ Gage muttered. “Fightin’ ‘em can’t be that hard, can it?”

  Frank snorted and picked up his drink. “That was a laborer, boys. Not made for speed ‘r fightin’, just fer liftin’ and carryin’.” He nodded at the door. “The fighters the Doc makes, they’re sometimes even bigger than that boy, an’ fast as you can think, some of ‘em. An’ they have all sorts of ‘emselves cut off, replaced with blades ‘n guns ‘n other weapons. Doc’s a pretty odd stick, but he’s a cracker when it comes to makin’ up ways to kill folks from a distance.”

  “But… how come the thing was fetchin’ and carryin’ for a bottle o’ rotgut?” Harding muttered to Frank. “I ain’t never seen ‘em doin’ stuff like that before.”

  Frank smiled knowingly. “Well, boys, unless I miss my mark, I’m thinkin’ that poor galoot was sent traipsin’ through here strictly for our benefit.” He looked at each man in turn. “Well? Everyone feel special now?”

  Gage cleared his throat. “When you reckon Jesse’ll be comin’ back? I’m not eager to be here if that thing has to come back in lookin’ fer seconds.”

  *****

  The room to which Ursul had led Jesse was very comfortable, but he had already developed an itch to leave. The walls were darkly paneled, the furniture covered in luxurious supple leather, and the window looked out over the canyon behind Payson. The outlaw chief paced back and forth in the small room, occasionally stopping to puzzle out the titles on the spines of books in the various shelves, or to look out the window at the wide-spread mining and refining works built up all throughout the canyon.

  Jesse knew the Payson canyon works had been under development for decades. Nevertheless, he was surprised at how extensive they were. He knew originally the work had been for clay along the riverbed that meandered below. Since then, far more elaborate works had been sunk into the canyon walls. He thought most of it looked like gold or silver mining, but the massive silos of glowing crimson fluid at the far end were clear indications that whatever they were pulling out of the ground, it was being converted, somehow, within the long low brick buildings, into RJ-1027.

  Jesse knew that the secret of the mysterious Crimson Gold was one of the primary sources of Carpathian’s power. Speculation abounded throughout the territories on what the substance could possibly be. Theories ranged from some fetid, naturally occurring mixture like the oil bubbling up across the arid plains of Texas, to the captured souls of innocents, trapped by the doctor’s arcane machines. Jesse did not think they were souls, or spirits, or whatever, but he did not pretend to know what it was, either. He knew, however, that what he was watching through that high window was a good hint towards where the stuff came from.

  The outlaw stared out the window at the bustling industry rushing from one end of the canyon to the other. It sent a creeping sensation up his spine to realize that nearly all the figures moving around down there were the corpses of men and women who had once moved around just like him. He looked down at one mechanical hand, flexing the fingers, and realized that in one way, at least, he was even less human than most of the workers down below.

  “Zee Doctor vill see you now, Domnule James.” The large door had opened without a sound, and Ursul was standing there, glaring at Jesse as if he was convinced the outlaw had somehow managed to steal every coin in the doctor’s vaults while he had been waiting.

  “Thanks, Ursul.” Jesse tipped his hat with a jaunty metal finger towards the massive, hairy man, and walked past him into the hallway again.

  “Vee vill be moving up to zee Doctor’s receiving room. Vee vill be taking the lift. This way.” He moved smoothly in front of Jesse again and led the way down a side-hall and into a large chamber that featured several sets of double doors. Each set of doors had a fan-shaped arrangement above it, with elaborate, wrought iron arrows pointing to numbers or symbols arrayed across the top of the arch. The arrow over one set of doors was moving steadily downward from the far right-hand symbol, what looked like a very ornate ‘A’, to an equally elaborate ‘P’ at the far left.

  “Wait, lift?” Jesse’s eyes widened as his mind finally reshuffled the muffled syllables into an order that made sense. “We’re gonna get lifted all the way… up there?” He pointed at the ‘A’. “Wherever that is?”

  Ursul nodded without looking at the outlaw. The arrow finished its journey to the ‘P’, and there was a series of cracks and hisses behind the doors. They suddenly flashed open without warning or obvious assistance, revealing a chamber far smaller than Jesse would have guessed from the size of the doors themselves. The room was paneled in more dark wood, and Ursul moved quickly inside, gesturing for Jesse to follow.

  Jesse looked at the other sets of doors, down the hallway, and then back into the small chamber. Ursul looked at him with a snide grin and gestured for the outlaw to enter and stand beside him.

  After taking one more look around, Jesse stepped gingerly into the room, eyes roving over the paneling. A cluster of glowing red knobs was arranged in a double column to the right of the doors, and Jesse saw that one of the buttons, towards the bottom of the left-hand column, had the same ‘P’ symbol, while the bottom-most right-hand button was decorated with the same ‘A’ character. As soon as Jesse was completely in the room, Ursul reached out and pressed the ‘A’ button with one blunt finger.

  “Da.”Ursul’s voice rumbled with amusement as he straightened, shooting Jesse a look out of the corner of his eye.

  The doors to the tiny room slid closed, again without any apparent reason. The floor beneath Jesse jerked. A grinding sound seemed to reverberate all around him. The outlaw reached out with one mechanical arm, slapping the wall and digging metal fingers into the woodwork for stability as the room began to shake and rattle. Something within Jesse’s ears told him he was rising. Without windows, however, there was no way to tell what was going on outside the little room. Jesse’s stomach gave a lurch.

  “Zee Doctor vill not be pleased that you damaged the paneling.” Ursul gestured towards Jesse’s death grip with another nasty smirk.

  Almost before Jesse could process what was happening, the floor shuddered again, lurched once more, and then the doors slid open. The dark-paneled corridor was no longer there, replaced by what looked like the stone walls of an ancient castle or palace. The floor was polished wood, and Ursul gestured for the shaken outlaw to precede him out into the new hallway.

  Jesse was in no mood for further verbal knife fighting, so he just nodded and moved out. They soon reached an intersection and turned right. The hall was flooded with bright sunlight from windows along either side, showing a soaring view of the valley far below. Ahead of them stood another pair of double doors, this time thick, old wood, intricately carved, with an ornate ‘C’ in the middle of each.

  “He eez in there.”Ursul pointed at the door and then pivoted on one foot, moving back down the gleaming hall.

  Jesse rallied himself for a quick “Thanks a bunch, Ursul!” before the large man was gone around the corner and the outlaw leader was alone, staring at the elaborate doors at the end of the corridor.

  Jesse moved up to the doors and looked for a place that would be safe enough to knock. He had settled on a small flat area in the center of the left ‘C’ when the door creaked open without warning.

  “Come in, Mr James. “ The voice was cultured, with rich tones that hinted at a foreign land without drowning the ear in strange sounds that robbed the meaning from the words.

  Jesse stood by the open door
for a moment before walking in, leaving the brightly-lit hallway with its panoramic views behind.

  The room he entered was a large round chamber, with tall, wide windows stretching almost entirely around the circumference. A great fireplace dominated one side of the room, the only area that was not graced with the large, clear windows. The walls were the same stone as the rest of this level, and adorned with a staggering collection of weapons, old and new, as well as tattered flags and pennons that seemed to be ancient. The furniture, like in the parlor far below, was covered in supple leather, interspersed with dark wood tables. Opposite the fireplace was a long desk cluttered with a mess of mechanical bits and pieces, RJ-1027 cylinders, and a small collection of shapes covered with a shiny black cloth. The persistent sweet undertone of Payson hung over everything, as it always did. Although Jesse remembered, from his last visit, that the smell was usually less offensive in Carpathian’s castle.

  In the center of the room stood a man Jesse had not seen in several years. He was taller than the outlaw remembered, standing straighter. His face, a mask any grandfather would be happy to have, was still framed with billowing white hair, glorious muttonchops reaching down towards a smiling mouth. The entire effect was only slightly ruined by the ungainly metal prosthetic that clasped around his left cheek, housing a large glowing ruby of an artificial eye, and the flexible black tubing that entered a similar mechanical housing at his right jawline. Relics of the doctor’s first moments in the New World, Jesse knew that the facial augmentations were the mildest of the surgical scars the old man bore.

  Although Jesse was never sure how much of the Doctor was reconstructed or supported with metal parts or replaced completely, he knew that Carpathian’s legs and at least one of his arms were heavily modified. No one knew exactly how the doctor had come by his extensive injuries, but they must have been nearly fatal. Only one thing was known for sure throughout the territories: Carpathian blamed the famous Union general, Ulysses S. Grant, for all of them.

  “I trust my brother-in-law was more polite this time around, Mr. James?” Carpathian moved around the furniture and reached out with a hand that seemed equal parts flesh and metal reinforcement.

  James looked back to the doors, which had closed silently behind him, and then nodded. “Ursul? Yeah, I can stand Ursul’s gaff. In small doses, anyway.”

  The doctor nodded. “You have to forgive him, of course. Veronica’s death hit him hard, and he came all this way for vengeance, as is our cultural obligation. But he feels that I do not move fast enough, of course, and so, much like an over-eager thoroughbred, things appear to be moving far too slowly for his tastes.”

  Jesse walked around the room, looking at the various objects on the tables or hanging from the walls. “Yeah, I get it, Doc. If anyone ever tried to off Susan, you better believe Frank and I’d be out to beef ‘em by hook ‘r by crook!”

  “Please don’t’ call me that.” The older man’s voice was flat, his hands firmly grasping the back of one of the high chairs.

  Jesse looked around, his eyes slightly surprised. “Eh? Oh, sorry, D—… sorry, Doctor Carpathian. No disrespect intended.”

  The doctor nodded and gestured to one of the chairs by the cold fireplace. “Now, Mr. James. Care to have a seat? I’m sure you’ve got plenty you’d like to discuss?”

  Jesse looked at one of the wide windows, the desk with all of its technological clutter, and then the offered chair. A small table beside the chair had a dusty bottle of amber liquid and two glasses. With a smile he sat down and popped open the bottle. He looked at the faded label and his smile grew even wider.

  “Real Kentucky bourbon, sir! That’s not easy to come by!” He poured himself a healthy dose and then settled back in the seat, holding the glass up to the light.

  “It is not. I had that particular bottle brought up especially for you, however. I hope you enjoy it.” The doctor lowered himself into the large seat opposite. He sat stiffly, back rigid, hands folded on his knees, looking expectantly at the famous outlaw.

  Jessse crossed his legs, dangling one dirty boot off the beautifully carpeted floor, swinging it back and forth as if to some music only he could hear. “That’s a pretty fancy magic room you’ve got there, Doctor Carpathian, that ‘lift’ of Ursul’s? I can see how that’ll save you some walkin’, over time!”

  Carpathian smiled politely but did not speak.

  Jesse looked at the doctor for a few minutes, nodded, and then sat forward, both feet firmly on the carpet. “Okay, sir, I can see you’re busy, so we’ll jump straight to the point. I’ve got a notion of headin’ out into the badlands, an’ I’ve got an idea that we’re gonna be meetin’ up with some stiff resistance. Might be Injuns, might be Union, might be God knows all. But I’m thinkin’ we might need some more heavy firepower to copper our bets, just in case.”

  Carpathian nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Interesting, Mr. James. Tell me, before we spend too much time and energy on such discussion… do I perchance have an outstanding balance towards you and your energetic little band?”

  Jesse looked confused but tried to hide it behind a sip of bourbon. “Not sure I follow, Doctor.”

  Carpathian smiled thinly. “Well, it sounds to me as if you are asking for equipment, weapons, power, perhaps even upgrades? Such things do not come cheaply, Mr. James. Am I indebted to you in a way I was unaware? Do I owe you, say, enough to justify you coming to my home and asking for such dear gifts?”

  Jesse’s answering smile was as open as he could make it. “Well, no, Doctor, o’ course you don’t owe me nothin’. I was thinkin’ I’d pay you, maybe half now, half in services down the road, once we agreed to a figure?”

  Carpathian’s smile widened. “Ah, now we are talking, as you say. Well, Mr. James, what exactly would you be looking for?”

  Jesse’s smile darkened slightly as he thought. “Well, we’re heading into the wastes, an’ our Iron Horses haven’t seen a repair dock in a good long while. Most of ‘em have developed some mighty queer habits lately. An’ of course, we always need RJ-1027.” He jerked a thumb towards one of the windows. “An’ I couldn’t help but notice you got plenty o’ that, just lyin’ around.”

  Carpathian’s eyes were flat as he responded. “Plenty is a subjective term, Mr. James. And I assure you, it is not merely ‘lying around,’ as you say. What else do you envision needing on this expedition?”

  Jesse pushed his feet out in front of him, cradling his glass in both hands on his belly and looking up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

  “Well, not knowin’ what we’re gettin’ ourselves into out there, I guess whatever you could spare that you’d think might be useful. RJ-1027 weapons, o’ course. And anything you think might be of help.” He raised one hand to look at the back of it, working the fingers and watching the pistons and wheels move beneath the armor. “Might be good for my piece o’ mind if you’d take a gander at my arms, actually, while I’m here. It’s been awhile.”

  Carpathian shifted his weight forward slightly, peering at Jesse’s arms from a distance. “Is there something wrong with the arms, Mr.James?”

  Jesse’s confidence slipped a little as he continued looking at the arm, then over at the doctor. “No, not really. Just curious. You’ve done a lot of work like this, rebuilding bodies and such… have any of the parts ever failed completely? Or begun to move on their own notions?”

  Carpathian sat back in his chair and gave the outlaw chief an appraising look. “Not that I know of, Mr. James. Why, have your arms begun to take on a… life of their own?”

  “No!” Jesse raised both hands up as if to prove their power. “Not at all.” The guilt rose in his chest as an image of Misty’s face peered at him from the back of his mind. “Nothing like that. Just curious, is all. Just wonderin’ if somethin’ like that could happen.”

  Carpathian’s smile was predatory. “Not that I know of, Mr. James, no.” Jesse nodded. “But would you still like me to look at the arms? It has been quit
e a while since I first replaced your own shattered limbs with these priceless augmetics, after all.”

  Jesse nodded, lowering the arms back into his lap. He could not forget the wrenching jar to his shoulder as the metal hand connected with the poor girl’s face. The other instances where his arms seemed to have failed him, or acted on their own, paraded past his inner eye. In a more subdue voice he muttered, “Yeah, I think maybe that’d be good.”

  “Excellent, then.” The doctor stood and gestured for Jesse to follow him over to the desk. As the outlaw moved towards the windows, he was shocked again to see how high they were. The workers down below seemed smaller than ants. A chair sat next to the desk, and the doctor pointed him towards it. Soon the armored shrouding of his left arm was lying on the table while the doctor tinkered with the intricate mechanical workings with long, silver tools.

  “So tell me, Mr. James, what is pulling you so inexorably out into the wastelands so precipitously?” The tool moved deftly from component to component, causing the fingers to jerk rhythmically in response.

  “Not much, Doc..tor.” Jesse looked quickly at the doctor out of the corner of his eye. He was not afraid of any man, including the mad European, but with the Doc up to his wrists into Jesse’s arms, it did not seem like the time to push the man. “Just felt like it was maybe time to see somethin’ new, push out into the unknown for a while. See if there weren’t some shots to take out that way.”

  The doctor nodded while continuing to work in the arm. “William Bonney chomping on your heels, is it, Mr. James?”

  Jesse’s head jerked around to look at the doctor, but the old man was entirely focused on the components of the mechanical arm. From the slight smile twinkling from between the imposing muttonchops, Jesse could see that he had noticed the outlaw’s reaction. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Doctor.”

  Carpathian chuckled. “That’s alright, Mr. James, nothing to worry about. Every now and then the leader of the pack must prove his dominance. It is nature’s way.” He tapped on the armored side of Jesse’s arm with a musical chiming sound, then gestured for him to spin the chair and present the other arm.