Endsville

by Harlan Finchley

  “Wickham doesn’t deal with them in any ordinary way. These people butchered Yardleigh and Flynn and left them hanging from hooks in the smithy like animal carcasses. They even cooked up Marcel in a pot.”

  Wickham laughed and even the usually silent and still Hoyt moved from foot to foot. Jesmond gathered some satisfaction when Bodie’s revelation made Cresswell finger his chin and look worried for the first time since they’d found out that he’d double-crossed them. Cresswell looked even more uncomfortable when Rosemarie stood up clutching a huge pot, which she deposited on the bar.

  “Do I need to tell you again that I know all about what happens in Endsville?” Dobson said with a weary air.

  “How can you accept what these people do?” Bodie said, eyeing the pot.

  “Because they get rid of dangerous men. Even better, afterward they leave no trace of what they’ve done.” Dobson headed back to the bar and patted the side of the pot. “After all, they eat the evidence.”

  Chapter Twelve

  THE JOURNEY BACK UP the hill was even slower than the first time they had completed it. An hour earlier Jesmond and Bodie had been full of hope that they might complete their escape.

  Now their chances were even bleaker than when they had been chained together in the stable. The group headed for the clearing in the trees where they’d come across Cresswell. Marshal Dobson led the group while Wickham walked to their right with a raised torch and a gun aimed at them.

  Lagging behind them was Rosemarie, who was lugging the large pot, and Hoyt, who was wheeling a small cart. Several sacks had been placed on the back of the cart, but as Flynn’s and Yardleigh’s bodies were also on the cart, Jesmond had averted his eyes and he didn’t know what was in them.

  Instead, he tried to catch Cresswell’s eye. Cresswell was walking to their left, but he wasn’t guarding them with the same level of enthusiasm as Wickham was and he had even holstered his gun.

  Dobson’s final taunt had appeared to shock him. Clearly Cresswell had worked secretly to complete his orders and lead them into a trap in Endsville, but as he hadn’t known the full extent of the activities here, he had probably assumed they would only be arrested.

  Jesmond doubted that the revelation about their fate would shock him so much they would gain his support. His only hope was that Cresswell would be scared that he would be doubled-crossed and then killed, too.

  Even then, Cresswell would be sure to save his own skin first, but perhaps that might create a situation they could use to escape or, if the opportunity presented itself, fight back. Accordingly, when they reached the crest of the hill and faced the dark mass of the trees that surrounded the clearing, Jesmond tried to work out where they should flee if they got the chance.

  Wickham appeared to be aware of Jesmond’s thoughts, as he positioned them ten paces away from the blackened remnants of the fire, leaving them around twenty paces from the trees. Then he directed Jesmond and Bodie to move apart to the fullest extent that the chain would allow before moving on to position Cresswell on the other side of the fire and to Jesmond’s left.

  Wickham took care in getting the three of them into the positions he wanted, moving them all a foot to one side and then a foot in another direction until he was content. His activities suggested he was seeking to form them into a particular arrangement rather than that he was making sure they couldn’t talk and have the opportunity to plan deception.

  Dobson stood beyond the fire to Jesmond’s right confirming Jesmond’s theory, and he did so without Wickham’s aid, which showed the marshal was familiar with this process. Jesmond noted that the men were standing at four points that were an equal distance apart around the fire and although he couldn’t be sure, he reckoned they could be standing at the compass points.

  Wickham walked around the fire before moving past Dobson to stand with his gun drawn but held down. Then Rosemarie moved into their midst carrying the pot along with several logs, twigs and the second saddlebag.

  She walked once around the fire, and then placed the pot on the ground before she started work on building up a new fire and lighting it. Even though he now accepted the money was fake, Jesmond couldn’t help but shake his head when she used the remaining bills as kindling.

  When the flames had taken hold, she collected four brands, which she lit and then took away to the edge of the clearing. Jesmond noted that when she approached the fire and then left, she made the same precise movements that Wickham had, of walking once around the fire and then leaving it on a route that passed between Dobson and Bodie.

  She placed the brands in the ditch at the compass points and their light shone through the trees ensuring that if they managed to escape they would have to cover some distance while still being in full light. When she’d finished, Hoyt bustled behind him, dragging the cart closer and then depositing its contents on the ground.

  Several minutes of dragging heavy objects and clattering followed. Then Rosemarie moved over to help him. Presently, Hoyt’s laughter rumbled interspersed with chopping sounds. Bodie turned around, but then flinched and turned back to the fire, so Jesmond followed his lead and faced forward.

  Cresswell and Dobson were both facing Hoyt. Dobson’s expression was impassive, but Cresswell’s eyes were wide open and he rubbed his jaw with a shaking hand. Hoping he might be having a change of heart about helping Dobson, Jesmond tried to catch his eye again, but when Cresswell didn’t react Jesmond shuffled around to face Bodie.

  Bodie followed Jesmond’s subtle eye-flick that indicated their former colleague and gave a brief nod. Then Rosemarie returned to the fire with a pitcher of water and vegetables, which she deposited in the pot.

  She placed the pot on the fire and moved away. After everything that had happened today, it was obvious what would happen next. Even so, Cresswell’s horrified expression warned Jesmond that Rosemarie was about to return.

  Clutched in both her hands were dripping hunks of flesh. Jesmond tried to avoid looking too closely, but he judged that they were carved-up thighs. She deposited the meat in the pot and then used a long spoon to swirl the contents before leaving and returning with another handful of meat.

  This time thin bones protruded and Jesmond thought they were probably ribs. She left again and returned presently, although this time Jesmond turned away. Nobody spoke through this process and each time, she used the same route and the same ritual movements.

  When she was content with the prepared meal, she threw more chopped vegetables on top and added another pitcher of water. Then she stood to the side of the fire and stirred the mixture.

  Hoyt came forward and stood to Jesmond’s left. This was on the opposite side of the fire to Wickham, a position that presumably had some significance. Then everyone stood in silence as Rosemarie tended the stew.

  Jesmond concentrated on noting how everyone else was reacting as he waited for a chance to flee. He was pleased that Wickham, Rosemarie and Hoyt all faced the pot with rapt attention, but Dobson remained taciturn while Cresswell had lowered his head.

  His perusal of the scene stopped him thinking about the fact that these people were planning to feast on meat that had been carved out of men who had been his friends. But he couldn’t avoid that fact when the smell of the cooking hit him.

  The odor was no different to any stew. Its ordinariness disgusted Jesmond more than anything else that had happened since he’d come to Endsville. Bodie coughed and Cresswell shuffled anxiously from foot to foot as the odor clearly reached them.

  A few moments later Hoyt raised his head and sniffed loudly, and that encouraged Wickham to walk forward. When he came close enough to smell the cooking Wickham breathed deeply and then smiled.

  “So now we’ll begin,” he declared.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ROSEMARIE MOVED AWAY from the fire. She returned with a ladle and a stacked pile of tin plates held to her chest. She placed the plates beside the fire and used the ladle to spoon out a helping.

  Jesmond turned hi
s head away when she slurped the thin broth and for the first time in a while he found that Cresswell was facing him. Cresswell mouthed something, but Jesmond couldn’t work out what he said.

  Then Cresswell nodded at the plates and he realized that he was pointing out that Rosemarie had brought seven plates, one for each person here. Bearing in mind Wickham’s attempt to make them eat earlier that day, Jesmond winced.

  “Escape?” he mouthed, figuring that Cresswell might not understand a more complicated question.

  Cresswell gulped, but Marshal Dobson then turned to them. In a moment Cresswell’s attitude changed and he gestured angrily at Jesmond. When Jesmond didn’t react, he narrowed his eyes and snarled, seemingly showing Dobson where his loyalties lay.

  Cresswell then drew his gun, which he aimed at Jesmond’s chest, but Jesmond gave a thin smile showing that he’d noted his disgust. Rosemarie and Wickham didn’t show any sign of having noticed the brief exchange.

  Rosemarie stirred the pot while Wickham moved around Dobson to approach the fire in the usual circuitous way. When Wickham arrived she nodded at him. He picked up a plate and turned to Bodie.

  “You weren’t hungry earlier,” he said. “Have you changed your mind now?”

  “Bring it to me and if I have to eat, I will,” Bodie said.

  Wickham held out the plate to Rosemarie. She ladled out a helping of stew on to the plate and then Wickham took it to Bodie. Jesmond tensed, presuming that like before Bodie was complying with Wickham’s demand only so that he might get a chance to fight back, but Wickham took no chances. He stopped two paces away from Bodie, and then raised his gun and held out the plate with the other hand.

  “You do have to,” Wickham said. “Then we’ll find out if you’re one of the chosen few.”

  “I assume by chosen you mean someone who can stomach this barbaric concoction without vomiting?”

  “I do. Now stop stalling and eat.”

  Bodie regarded the steaming food on the plate and then gestured to either side at the others. Dobson smiled while Cresswell still held a gun on Jesmond.

  “All right,” Bodie said with a resigned shrug.

  Bodie reached out, his action making Wickham smile, but as his fingers closed on the plate, he jerked his hand down and then upward. His outstretched fingers clipped the edge of the plate and sent the contents flying up in the air toward Wickham.

  Bodie followed through with a lunge, aiming to seize Wickham’s gun, but even as Jesmond altered his balance as he prepared to join him in attacking Wickham, Bodie cried out. While Wickham backed away, Bodie came to a sudden halt with his hand closing on air.

  As Bodie hunched over clutching his injured side and breathing shallowly through his teeth, Jesmond settled his weight back down on his heels. He hoped that Bodie was trying another ruse, but Bodie took long moments to straighten up, by which time Wickham had moved away from him.

  Then Wickham joined Rosemarie. She ladled out another helping while Wickham batted a splash of the stew off his jacket. Wickham took the plate back to Bodie, although this time he didn’t hold it out and he stayed several paces away from him.

  “It doesn’t seem as if you want to join us,” he said.

  “It sure doesn’t,” Bodie grunted.

  “Even when the only choice is to eat, or to be eaten?”

  Bodie raised his chin. “I’d sooner die a man than live as an animal.”

  Wickham shrugged and then raised his gun hand. “As you wish.”

  Wickham twitched his trigger finger and a gunshot tore out, making Bodie take a short pace backward. Bodie then fingered a bloodied hole in his shirt that reddened quickly. He stumbled a pace to the side before righting himself and then raised a defiant finger to point at Wickham.

  “I hope you choke on your feast,” he said.

  Wickham fired again and this time Bodie toppled over to lie on the ground. Bodie tensed, his back arching before with an exhaled sigh his head lolled to the side. When he didn’t move again, Wickham turned away and moved on to face Jesmond. He held out the plate.

  “Now it’s your turn to choose,” Wickham said. “Do you want to eat, or will you be eaten?”

  Jesmond turned away from Bodie’s still form and noted that in the firelight and from several yards away the contents of the plate appeared to be no different to any stew. He wasn’t even sure there was anything that wasn’t a vegetable.

  “If I believed for even a moment that you might let me live, I’d consider doing it,” he said, raising his chin in defiance in the way that Bodie had done.

  “Then consider it,” Wickham said. “We need to confirm you’re one of the chosen.”

  Jesmond noted Wickham’s choice of words and then narrowed his eyes.

  “You wanted to find out if Bodie was one of the chosen, but you seem to think I already am.”

  “We know you are.” Wickham edged the plate forward in encouragement.

  “What about Marshal Dobson and Cresswell?” he asked, hoping to generate discontent in case Cresswell hadn’t accepted that he would be the next one to be given this unwelcome opportunity.

  “The marshal has already accepted what he is. You and Cresswell are still denying it.”

  Jesmond closed his eyes for a moment in open-mouthed surprise.

  “You’re saying that Dobson not only allows people to come here so you can kill them, but he joins you in eating them?”

  Wickham smiled and then turned to Dobson, inviting him to speak.

  “The first time I was surprised as you are,” Dobson said. “I ate human flesh without knowing what I was doing, but when I found out what I’d done, I accepted the truth that there’s no going back. Once you’ve done the unspeakable, you’re changed forever and you have to do it again.”

  “You’ve gone loco.”

  “Then I’m as loco as you are.”

  Dobson’s lively grin made Jesmond turn away. In trying to ignore the stew, he noticed the stacked pile of plates. They were the same plates as the ones Wickham had used when he’d served everyone a meal in the saloon.

  Then he thought about Dobson’s comment that he’d first eaten human flesh by accident. He gulped as he willed himself to counter the terrible thought that had just hit him, but when he couldn’t, he faced Wickham.

  “What was in that stew you served in the saloon this afternoon?” he asked.

  Wickham licked his lips. “It was a generous helping of Marcel Renaud’s ribs.”

  Jesmond gulped. “You made us eat one of our own. That’s worse than you eating him.”

  “It isn’t. We have to find out if others share our pleasure, and I recall that you enjoyed your meal.”

  “That’s because I was so hungry I’d have eaten anything, but why would you have to find that out?”

  Wickham waggled the plate invitingly. “Because, as Dobson told you, once you’ve taken the first step and tasted the forbidden, there’s no going back. You have to go forward.”

  “To where?”

  “To a place where we can experience more than what this world can normally provide.” Wickham gestured in a circle taking in the whole clearing. “When we eat the dead, we can talk with them.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Jesmond gasped.

  “Nobody does until they hear their voices.” Wickham adopted a lecturing tone. “Once, I was a disbeliever, too, but then I had the misfortune to be the sole survivor of a bandit raid on a stage. I was lost in the wilderness with no food and little chance of survival. Without hope I set off back the way we’d come, but I—”

  “Spare me your tale of woe.”

  “You must hear it,” Wickham urged. “I stumbled around for days until I ended up back at the stage. I didn’t have the strength to try to walk to safety again, but then the dead spoke to me. They told me to eat them and I was so hungry I was prepared to eat anything. I survived and the experience changed me.”

  Jesmond mustered a sympathetic nod. “I can accept that sometimes we must do terrible
things to survive terrible situations, but that’s no excuse for what you’ve done since.”

  “It is, because they still talk to me. So now I must find others to join me so that they, too, can learn the secrets that are hidden from those who lack my courage.”

  Jesmond noted the positions everyone had adopted, all of which Wickham had carefully managed. Then he thought about the level of care everyone had shown in approaching the fire.

  “So this isn’t a gruesome feast and a chance for you to torment us with your twisted activities. This is some kind of ritual.”

  Wickham nodded. “It sure is. I always try to spare one or two, especially if they have promise, like you do. I can tell who’ll become one of us. It’s one of the special powers I’ve gained.”

  “I don’t see nobody else here, so you can’t have done much recruiting.”

  “You’re wrong. So far, I’ve found three more. Hoyt and Rosemarie aren’t my brother and sister by blood. They’re my relatives by flesh. Our mission has become easier now that Marshal Dobson is with us, and now you can join us.”

  Nothing in Wickham’s lively expression suggested he doubted that Jesmond would refuse his offer, but Wickham’s explanation was so bizarre he accepted that these people weren’t just killers who then ate their victims’ bodies. They were doing it for a reason that made no sense and that meant they had gone insane.

  On the other hand, that gave Jesmond some hope, as it meant Wickham might let him live if he could make him believe that he supported him. But the sight of the food made his stomach churn, the meal he’d eaten in the saloon now feeling heavy in his guts.

  Despite his discomfort, he gulped and forced himself to think about that earlier meal properly. If he ignored what he now knew, he had to admit that at the time it had tasted good and he concentrated on that fact.

  Then he thrust out a hand. “Give me the plate.”

  Wickham stepped forward and held out the plate using none of the caution he’d exhibited with Bodie. Acting quickly Jesmond snatched the plate from Wickham’s hand and using his fingers he shoveled a handful of the hot mixture into his mouth.