“Well?” Tanner said, standing outside.
“Nada,” she said, dusting off her trousers.
Tanner started around the train, Samantha trailing behind him. There were plenty of footprints, but after several months, it was impossible to tell which way they led.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“We’ll search the area. Gold’s heavy. It couldn’t have gone far.”
When they returned to Major, they found him standing in the center of the tracks, eyeing the train with suspicion.
Tanner swung a leg over and motioned for her to climb aboard.
“Come on. Let’s go see what’s around here.”
She hesitated.
“What is it?”
Samantha glanced back at the first of the derailed carriages.
“I just wonder if that body might give us a clue about who took the gold. Maybe it has an ID or something.”
Tanner knew how much Samantha hated poking around dead bodies, so for her to offer was quite the gesture.
“Worth a look, I suppose.” He started to climb back down when Samantha held up a hand.
“It’s all right. I’ve got this.”
“You sure?”
“It’s not like he’s going to come alive.” She paused. “He’s not, right?”
“Dead is dead. You know that.”
“Yeah. Dead is dead,” she repeated, walking over and squatting near the hole. For some unexplainable reason, everything seemed darker this time around. “If I don’t come out by the count of sixty, it means he’s eaten me.”
Tanner grinned. “Duly noted.”
Samantha dropped to her belly and wriggled in through the hole. The huge carriage lay slightly canted to one side, leaving the opposite side perhaps two feet higher than where she had entered.
She trained her flashlight on the body curled up in the far left corner. It reminded her of a spider lying in wait under the eaves of a porch.
“You’re dead, right?” she said with a slight tremor to her voice.
Nothing.
Samantha took a deep breath, and it helped to calm her. She had seen all kinds of horrible things in the past year. Really, what was one more body?
“Nothing, that’s what,” she said, answering her own question.
She righted herself and duck walked across the uneven floor. Samantha thought about drawing her derringer but worried that she might accidentally trip and shoot herself. Tanner would never let her forget that. Besides, it was like he had said, the dead stayed dead. There were no exceptions to that rule—at least not yet.
She came to within a few feet of the body and stopped. No matter how hard Samantha tried, she couldn’t quite make sense of what she was seeing. Strips of torn clothing covered much of the man’s body, but they in no way hid his horrific disfigurement. His arms and legs appeared to have been put on facing backward, and where the head should have been hung a bloated sack of skin. That’s not to say it didn’t have a head. On the contrary, its head was sitting in the middle of its torso, strings of matted black hair dangling over its closed eyes, and the stubble of a beard dotting its ghost white cheeks and chin. The final abnormality, as if it needed anything more, was its skin, which seemed to be coated in a wet ochre-colored substance.
Samantha tipped her head to one side and then the other, thinking that perhaps the dark was causing her to look at things wrong.
It didn’t help.
“How could you have happened?” she whispered.
There was no obvious answer. It didn’t seem possible that the virus could mutate a person in such a way that his arms and legs would turn around and his head would move down to his belly. More likely, the poor man had been the victim of a mad scientist conducting secret experiments. They did that sort of thing.
“At least you’re dead. You are dead, right?” She used the flashlight to gently nudge it in the ribs.
The creature’s eyes flashed open, and it reflexively kicked one of its legs toward her.
Samantha let out a throaty cry as she scrambled back toward the open door.
The creature scrabbled after her, skittering across the metal floor like a crab as it tried to find its footing. As she dove for the hole, it reached out with one of its misaligned hands and snagged her foot. She kicked backward, her shoe striking against the fat-filled sack that was where its neck should have been. It bellowed in pain and released her foot.
Nearly hyperventilating, Samantha wriggled out through the narrow hole and stumbled toward Tanner.
“It’s after me!” she screamed.
Her sudden reappearance frightened Major, and he reared up on his hind legs, letting out a nervous whinny.
Leaning forward to keep from being thrown, Tanner shouted, “What’s after you?”
He didn’t have to wait for an answer. The misshapen creature leaned its head to one side and scuttled out through the open hole. At the sight of the horse, it let out a hiss, pointed teeth glistening in the sunlight.
Trying to calm Major with one hand, Tanner used the other to pull the Mare’s Leg from its holster.
“Sam, get clear!” he bellowed, bringing up the weapon.
Still panicked, she fell onto her side, her hand frantically searching for the derringer hanging at her waist.
The creature sprang through the air, landing directly in front of her. As it reached forward with its spiny fingers, a loud boom shook the air, and the top of the monster’s head exploded. It wobbled to one side and then collapsed to the ground, its lifeless eyes staring at her as an oversized tongue slowly slid from its mouth.
If it hadn’t been for their ammunition shortage, Tanner would have shot it again just to be sure. Instead, he kept the weapon trained on the creature as he carefully dismounted.
Samantha managed to get back to her feet and hurried over to him, unconsciously grabbing his arm.
“What was that thing?” she breathed.
“One ugly SOB, that’s what.”
Tanner stepped closer and nudged it with his boot. They had both seen their share of monstrosities since the pandemic, but this little beastie was a first. It wasn’t human, per say, more like parts of a human stitched together in the wrong order.
“Its head,” Samantha said, scrunching up her nose, “it’s in the middle of its stomach.”
“I see that.”
She pointed to the swollen sack where the neck should have been.
“What do you think’s in there?”
“Don’t wanna know.”
“This thing’s… unnatural.”
Tanner reached down and touched the wet yellow substance covering its flesh. When he pulled his fingers away, they were sticky with a snot-like substance.
“What is that?” she asked.
He stuck his fingers together and then pried them apart.
“Feels like Gorilla Glue.”
“Why would anyone be covered in glue?”
He wiped it off on his pants.
“Don’t know. Maybe he liked making crafts.”
Her brow wrinkled. “What?”
“Just saying it’s possible, that’s all.”
Samantha tried to force a smile.
“Yeah, maybe.” After a moment, she said, “I wonder if he… it… was part of the group that took the gold from Fort Knox?”
“More likely, it crawled up in there for a nice dark place to sleep.”
Samantha eyed the carriage. Even though she knew it to be empty, she couldn’t help but imagine more of the disfigured creatures hiding inside.
“Do you think there are more of them around?”
“If there are, we’ll show them the same hospitality we gave this fellow,” he said, patting the Mare’s Leg.
Apparently not appreciating his sentiment, the creature let out a gassy burp as trapped air left its lungs.
Samantha wrinkled her face. “Gross.”
“At least it came out of his mouth,” Tanner said, turning and starting ba
ck toward Major. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
As she followed after him, she said, “This world doesn’t make sense anymore. It’s like anything is possible now.”
“Bah,” Tanner said, pulling himself atop Major. “The world’s always had its fair share of weirdos.”
She came closer, and he extended an arm, pulling her up onto the saddle behind him.
“Not like this it hasn’t.”
“Clearly, you’ve never met Richard Simmons.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter. Point is there have always been people and creatures that don’t make sense. It’s what keeps things interesting.”
“So, you’re saying we shouldn’t be afraid of them.”
“Cautious, yes, afraid, never.”
She looked down at the misshapen creature.
“It’s hard not to be afraid of something like that. When I saw it, all I could think to do was run.”
“Running from death rarely works. Ask the Merchant of Samarra.”
“Who?”
“It’s an old Mesopotamian story.”
“Really? What’s it about?”
“You know I’m not good with stories.”
“Oh, come on. Please.”
“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “The way I remember it is there was this merchant who sends his servant to the market in Baghdad to fetch supplies. While there, he bumps into the Angel of Death. Naturally, he becomes frightened, especially when she seems to be particularly interested in him.”
“She? Death is a woman?”
Tanner nodded. “I suppose even back then they knew the power that women have over men.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“So anyway, he freaks out and races straight back to the merchant where he begs for him to surrender his fastest horse that he might escape.”
“And does the merchant give him the horse?”
“Reluctantly.”
“So, he gets away?”
Tanner nodded. “The frightened servant rides all the way to Samarra, nearly seventy-five miles to the north.”
She smiled. “Good for him.”
“Ah, but that’s not the end of the story.”
“Oh?”
“You see, the merchant is so puzzled by his servant’s encounter that he goes to the market to speak with Death himself.”
“Does he find her?”
“Not only does he find her, he asks why she made a threatening gesture toward his servant earlier in the day.”
“What does she say?”
“She answers that it wasn’t a threatening gesture at all, simply a start of surprise.”
Samantha’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it. Why was she surprised?”
“That’s exactly what the merchant wants to know.”
“And?”
“And Death answers that she was surprised to see his servant in Baghdad because she has an appointment with him in Samarra this very evening.”
Samantha’s eyes grew wide. “Spooky.” She paused. “Wait a minute, are you saying I shouldn’t run from bad things?”
“Not at all. Run like the wind every chance you get.”
“Then what’s the point of the story?”
“The point is that you can’t outrun Death. When your time’s up, it’s up.”
“But how do you know when your time is up.”
“Believe me, you’ll know.”
She thought about the story for a moment, finally saying, “If you saw Death, what would you do?”
“Simple, I’d give her someone else to take to the dance.”
“Would that work?”
“Why not? The way I see it Death has a quota to maintain. If I can help her balance the books, she should be fine leaving me around for a while longer.”
“But aren’t you making others take your place.”
“Oh yes,” he said with a note of pride. “I most certainly am.”
“Isn’t that wrong?”
“The man with the most to live for fights the hardest. Nothing wrong with that.”
“And you have a lot to live for, with Issa and the baby?”
“And you.”
She thought about Tanner’s words as he slowly wheeled Major about.
“I think I get it. You’re saying that if I see Death coming for me, I should fight, not turn and run. That way, my enemy can take my place. That was the real message, wasn’t it?”
“It was just a story, Sam. Nothing more.”
Samantha knew better. Some parents give their children pearls of wisdom. Tanner tended to hand down broken shards of glass.
“Thanks,” she said, gently patting his back.
“For?”
“Teaching me.”
He glanced back. “Of course. That’s my job.”
“I know, but at first I don’t think I appreciated it the way I should have.”
“But now you do?”
“Most of the time.”
He smiled. “That’s good enough.”
Tanner guided Major onto a small mound of dirt to one side of the tracks and then rose up off the saddle to get a better look around. A plume of cloudy gray smoke could be seen off to the west.
“There,” he said, pointing.
Samantha turned and looked, straining to see over the trees.
“What do you think they’re burning?”
“Probably just a campfire. If we’re lucky, they’ll have some hot chow waiting for us.”
“You’re awfully optimistic.”
“Hey, we found the train. That was the hard part. The gold’s not far. I’m sure of it.”
“Even if we find who took the gold, it doesn’t mean they’ll give it to us.”
“You know my motto, one problem at a time.”
“I thought your motto was ‘when in doubt, put a boot to his head.’”
“I’d call that more of a mantra.”
She rolled her eyes. “You really are nuts.”
He gave Major a little nudge. “Of course, I am. It’s why we get along so well.”
She smiled and settled against his back. As the horse slowly cantered away from the derailed train, Samantha attempted to smother a giggle.
“Something funny?”
“I was just thinking of a joke I once heard. But given what we just saw back there, it’s what my mother might call inappropriate.”
“Perfect. Let’s hear it.”
“You sure?”
“Darlin’, you ever known me not to like inappropriate?”
“Okay,” she said with a shrug. “What do you call a man with no body and no nose.”
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
“Nobody knows.” She giggled. “Get it… no body nose.”
Chapter 6
Beebie had Mason dead to rights. All he had to do was pull the trigger on his AK-47, and justice would finally be his. Even as quick as Mason was with a gun, he knew he would never get the Supergrade up in time. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try if given the opportunity. For now, though, he thought his best chance at survival was to keep a cool head.
“Hello Beebie,” he said, doing his best to sound as if he had been expecting their encounter. As he spoke, the wave of rain finally arrived, pelting them like a summer monsoon.
Raising his voice to be heard over the deluge, Beebie motioned toward Mason’s sidearm and said, “Real easy now.”
Using two fingers, Mason gently lifted the weapon from its holster. As he did, Beebie inched the trigger on his rifle to within a hair of breaking.
“Careful,” said Mason. “You don’t want to kill me by accident.”
“Shit happens.”
Mason didn’t like the sound of that.
“Drop the magazine and rack the slide,” he ordered.
Mason let the magazine fall to the ground and racked the slide to clear the chamber.
“Now toss it away.”
He lobbed the Supergrade into the wet gr
ass. Without having to be asked, he repeated the process for his M4.
“Better?” he said, raising his hands.
“The knife too. My knife.”
Mason slid the Fällkniven from its sheath and tossed it over near the firearms.
“Do a full three-sixty,” he commanded.
Mason turned in a slow circle, giving the big man a chance to see that he was unarmed.
Beebie slid his finger off the trigger and smiled.
“I bet you didn’t think you’d see me again, did you, Marshal?” He gently touched his wounded shoulder, the shoulder that Mason had stabbed him through with his very own knife. “Not after what you did to me.”
“You had that coming.”
“The hell I did!”
“You and the others brought the fight to me. What would you have had me do, let you kill me?”
“You needed to be punished for what you did to that young lady. Ain’t nobody above the law. Not even the law itself.”
Mason shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong, Beebie.”
“Oh, do I now?”
“That same woman isn’t two miles from here, waiting for me to come back.”
“Bullshit.”
Mason shrugged. “Believe what you want. The whole thing was a setup. She’ll tell you as much, if you give her the chance.”
Beebie studied him for a moment, and when he spoke there was a cold bite to his voice.
“Lies come as easy as the truth for you, don’t they, Marshal?”
Mason said nothing more. Despite his hopes to the contrary, this was not a situation that was going to be resolved by talking.
Beebie patted the stock of his rifle. “On account of all we’ve been through, I can offer you something quick and easy, one shot to the back of the head.”
“I see, and is there an Option B?”
“Option B is I beat you to death.”
Even with Beebie wounded, Mason put his chances at besting the big man in hand-to-hand combat only slightly better than that of being eaten by a shark in a kid’s swimming pool. Still, it beat trying to dodge a bullet.
“Okay then,” he said, shaking his arms to help loosen them after the long climb. “I suppose we’ve had this coming for a while.”
“You got that right.”
Beebie removed the magazine from his AK-47 and pulled the charging handle back to eject the final cartridge. He turned and set it along with his backpack on the ground behind him.
The Survivalist (Solemn Duty) Page 6