***
Chung Li shook his head in dismay. Paul Yao, more wounded than he had let on, had died during the night. He had pushed himself hard the day before, setting traps for the scum hunting them and had given his life in return. Chung turned to the cave's mouth waving Lian away. He knew Chien would not return from the battle he had heard during the night. That saddened him immensely. It was his fault. He should never have allowed Chien to go. Chien was his closest friend, had sailed with him for years. Before they had left port, they had stood together in the bow of the Dragonfly, talking of their good fortune, looking over the sea as the sun rose from its depths. Chung stared down into the cold forest below him and could faintly smell the tangy salt air coming from the sea.
"Prepare yourself Liao. The pirates will come."
***
Marcus Alby raged around the camp, kicking his men awake. Two of the scum had run into the night, deserting him in his sacred cause. They had, no doubt, returned to the ship hoping the few men left onboard could pilot the Stalker back to port. Well, that was just fine by him. He would dispatch the worthless smugglers hiding in their precious cave and would return to the ship victorious. Then he would have to make an example of the deserters. He would have discipline in this ragtag bunch of scoundrels if he had to kill them all to do it.
"Up, up, UP!" he screamed. "Today we do service for the Union Navy, and I will not have you shirking your duties lying here on the ground." The men grumbled, gathering their weapons and gear for the assault.
Twenty minutes later the remaining raiders, followed by their mad captain, broke the treeline around the cave. A shot rang out instantly, spraying gravel and dirt over the men. The raiders started to scream, blood and vengeance in their thoughts as they clambered up the steep rock face. One man went down, a bullet tearing away a piece of his face. A second screamed as he fell from the cliff, clutching his guts, his body landing at his captain's feet.
Chung Li threw the rifle down, drawing his saber with his good hand. Two raiders leapt into the cave. Pain exploded in his head as he knocked one man's pistol aside with his injured hand and blood poured over him as he ran him through. The other fired a shot from the cave's mouth, knocking Liao back against the cave wall. Chung screamed in rage, pain and loss welling up inside of him as he charged. The shooter stood his ground, firing a shot that creased Chung's ribs and another that slammed into his leg. Then Chung was on him, saber forgotten, hatred driving him onward. The two men struggled over the pistol, both fighting for their life. Chung slammed his head into the raider, feeling the man's diseased breath on his face. The man fell backward, slamming his knee into Chung's groin and driving his injured hand into the dirt. .
Pain flooded Chung's mind as he started to lose consciousness. Then rage filled his mind, driving away the darkness. The man's neck lay only inches away, and Chung dived into it. He tasted the sweat on the man's flesh, felt the skin give way before his teeth. Blood rushed into his mouth as he tore his head away from the man's throat. The pirate clutched at his throat, dropping his gun to the cave floor. He staggered out of the cave, into the cold light of dawn, desperately trying to stop his lifeblood from fleeing his body.
Chung scooped up his sword and stepped onto the ledge behind him. He could see the blue-suited captain from the raider's ship standing below him. He locked eyes with the man, staring into his soul as he ran the last pirate through and kicked his lifeless body from the ledge. Chung watched as the raider captain turned and ran into the wilderness.
***
Alby crashed through the woods, cursing loudly, careening from tree to tree. Blood dripped from a hundred cuts inflicted on him by the unforgiving forest. "Damn them," his mind screamed, "damn them all. Those lily-livered officers are to blame for this. Forcing me into this life, sailing with the dregs of humanity. Its all their fault! Worthless curs."
He headed for the ship. He knew he must be close, and then he would make them pay. The scum who had deserted him, the damnable smugglers, and especially the yellow officers, smirking behind their hands. All he had to do was make the Stalker and he would make them all pay. Blood dripped into his eyes, blinding him. Stopping to shake the blood from his eyes, he heard the sound of movement. Drawing his sidearm, he spun. "Who's there? Claude is that you? Come out, blast you! Do it." Alby turned slowly, waving his Colt in the air. "Come out, damn you. I know you're there!"
A foot came from nowhere, knocking the Colt from his hand, and the smuggler captain, the one who had murdered his men, stepped into view. "Damn you!" Alby snarled. He lowered his head and charged to the attack, only to find himself flying through the air. The Chinese was faster than he thought. He rolled over in time to catch the man's boot with his chin. Stars exploded in his eyes, and he felt his bones crack as the savage stomped on his hand. He almost blacked out when the man yanked his head back by the hair. Spittle flew from his lips as his attacker shoved him back against a tree and straddled him.
Chung Li slammed the raider's head against the tree, once, twice. Seeing the light fading from his enemy's eyes, he slapped him viciously across the mouth. "I should kill you, here and now," he hissed, face to face with the animal. "But I need you alive, for now. Do not trifle with me, dog, or I will not be so forgiving. Get up and take me to your ship, or I'll gut you like a fish."
The two men moved slowly through the forest. Chung pushed the pirate captain through, using his body to clear a path. The man moved like a puppet, all fight seemingly drained from him, but Chung new better. The man was a snake, waiting for the right moment to strike.
They came at sundown to the cove where the Stalker had anchored two days before. A skiff sat in the water, its bow held by the gravel. Alby spun away from his captor, spitting at him as he landed hard on the rocky beach. "Now, dog, we'll see who has captured who. My men will cut the skin from your bones for this indignity."
Chung just looked at him, shaking his head. "Shut up, you fool. Do you see your men? Do you see activity on your ship? Do you hear their words? No. Do you know why?"
Alby rolled to his knees, cradling his broken hand. Realization dawned in his eyes. "Where...where are they? They should be here." Turning, he screamed at Chung, "What have you done with them you devil!? Where are my men?"
Chung dropped to his haunches, shaking his head again. "I found the bodies of some of your men and one of mine in the forest. Something else is on this island, something very dangerous. A demon, coming for our souls."
Alby laughed, a short bark. "You take me for a fool, smuggler. There are no such things. Your man murdered my men, and you're trying to cover it up. You and your men are savages, and you try to lure me into some trap."
Chung looked up, pointing to the Stalker. "And did that same man, then come here, swim to your ship, and kill all aboard? No. Face it, dog. There is something else out there. I found bullet holes all around the bodies, as well as a few severed heads. Some of the bodies were stripped of flesh. Eaten, you fool. No, something else is out here. Something that can kill four grown men, soldiers, and walk away. Something that hungers for human flesh. And I think it's still hungry. And you and I are the last two humans on this island. It will come for us, as surely as you came after my men, as surely as I will kill you if you do not help me."
Alby looked at him in surprise. "Help you what? Escape here? We two cannot crew the Stalker. She requires at least eight hands."
Chung Li stood, raising his saber menacingly. "I do not want to escape it you fool. I want to kill it."
***
The two men sat quietly by the small fire in the cave. They had spent the previous evening and the whole of the day gathering weaponry. Five pounds of powder and ten sticks of dynamite from the Stalker and twenty pounds of ghost rock, nails, and cans from the Dragonflys wreckage. Alby had refused to help Chung, until he had seen the carnage on board the ship. His men had died horribly. On their way to the Dragonfly they had found the bodies of the two deserters. They had died as well, the flesh flayed from the
ir bones by hundreds of little teeth. One of the men had still been alive while the creature had eaten him from the toes up. He hadn't died until the creature ate through his stomach. Since then Alby had been very quiet. Chung knew that his mind had snapped, that he would be as dangerous as the dynamite.
Chung had explored the cave when they first found it. It turned about ten yards in, leading deeper into the mountain. Twenty yards further down, a deep crevasse formed a pit in the floor. Alby and Chung had packed the dynamite, powder, and ghost rock into the cans, surrounding it with nails. Then they had thrown the bombs into the pit, along with the body of Paul Yao. Chung hated to sacrifice the body of his friend, but they needed to bait the trap. A small fissure in the rock would serve to protect them from the blast. Chung hunkered by the fire, ripping cloth into swathes for bandages and ear plugs. He had seen what dynamite could do in close spaces, and did not prefer to be deafened for life.
Alby had dropped to the ground, exhausted by the efforts, his will drained. Whatever demon was outside, Chung thought to himself, it was nothing compared with the demons that drove Alby. When they had dared sleep the night before, Alby heard him mutter about officers, deserters and much more. The things that this man had done in the name of warfare made Chung's blood run cold. He didn't know which evil was greater, the one outside, or the one inside.
***
Well into the night, Chung woke to the sound of sliding gravel. He prodded Alby awake, pointing outside. "It comes," he whispered. "Move back to the turn in the cave. It must be able to see us."
Alby clambered to his feet, causing Chung to grimace at the noise. Outside, the thing increased its pace up the path. Chung grabbed two limbs from the fire that they had prepared to give them light, and stoked the fire quickly. Then he slid into the darkness at the back of the cave. The two men could hear the thing outside pause, waiting. Then they heard it move again, coming closer to the cave. Sweat beaded on Chung's lip, and he could smell the fear coming from Alby. Then the demon rounded the corner, rearing back at the sudden light.
Chung's knees turned to water as he looked upon something his mind told him could not, should not, exist. He could hear Alby's breath explode in shock. The creature stood between four and five feet tall, with glistening, jet black skin.
Totally hairless, it's bulk filled the mouth of the cave. The thing's head sat lower than it's body, swinging deliberately back and forth. A wide, sloping brow crested a face with five eyes, each slitted and glowing. A triply forked tongue moistened its flat lips, licking over rows of sharp teeth. A mass of tentacles sprouted from its lower body, their serrated edges glittering wetly in the firelight, the blood of the men it had claimed tingeing the blackness red.
The two men began to slide slowly around the bend, Chung keeping the torches between them and the creature. It moved slowly, tongue tasting the air, eyes darting back and forth. Slowly it came into the cave, seeming to know there was no escape from it. As Chung started to disappear around the corner, one of its oily appendages shot out, slapping his side. Chung screamed in agony as the thing ripped through the leather vest he wore, stripping the flesh from his ribs. Throwing the makeshift torch to the ground, he turned and shoved Alby down the tunnel, running for his life. He could hear the thing's tentacles slap the floor as it pursued them.
As they reached the fissure, Alby turned suddenly, slamming Chung's head into the wall. The pirate captain kneed him hard in the guts, then threw him into the pit. Chung landed hard, face-to-face with the corpse of his crewman. Shaking his head, fighting off the exhaustion and pain that threatened to overwhelm him, Chung listened in shock. The pirate was above him, talking to the damned monstrosity!
"Oh dark lord, I know you have come forth from the pits to aid me. You killed those who would take what is mine from me, the deserters and cowards. I offer you the soul of this wretched smuggler to prove myself to you. Devour him as you will, then we will make our way to the mainland. There you can carry my vengeance to those who have wronged you, filling your gullet with their flesh and bones."
Chung shoved a loose stick of dynamite into his waistband, then jammed his hands into a crack at the top of the fissure, biting back the pain in his hand.
"Take the bodies of the fallen, dark lord. Take them as a gift from me, your loyal servant. We will sail the waters, inspiring fear and terror in all those who would oppose me."
"Keep talking," Chung thought as he pulled his weight up. He reached above him with his left hand, found the edge and pulled. As he swung his leg over the top, he could hear Alby's raspy breathing and a sound like purring coming from the creature. Chung rolled away from the edge, curling himself into a tight ball in the corner. His mind reeled at what he saw. Alby, standing firmly before the creature, running his broken hand along its face. The thing's appendages waving hypnotically around his body. Then it slowly encircled Alby, inching him closer.
"Take him lord, him and his friends. We will rule together..." Alby's voice became muffled as the creature pulled his body closer. Then a shower of blood and bone as it ripped its tentacles apart, shredding Alby's body as would a meat grinder. The thing moved forward, standing at the edge of the crevasse. Chung slipped off his vest, wrapping his bleeding hand in it. He laid the ember beside him and bellowed an ancient battle cry.
One of the thing's arms slid across the ground between them, tapping the ground. Chung realized he had underestimated the thing's intelligence. He could see the evil glow in its eyes. It somehow knew the pit was dangerous, and would just drag him to it with its tentacle. Gritting his teeth, he wedged one heel into a crack in the floor, and propped his other behind it. The creature moved a little closer, and the tip of the tentacle hovered inches from his head.
Chung touched the dynamite's fuse to the torch and rolled it into the pit. Closing his eyes and muttering a prayer, he grabbed the tentacle. It wrapped itself around his arm, slicing his flesh. With an inhuman scream, Chung straightened his leg and arched his back, pulling on the tentacle with all the strength left in his body. The creature, surprised by the sudden move, teetered forward, then fell slowly into the pit. Chung curled up, the tentacle slicing deeper into his flesh.
The roar of the explosion sent him spiraling down into blackness.
***
Chung came to his senses sometime during the day. Bits of black flesh, rock and nails covered his body. He crawled to the edge of the pit, peering over the edge. Bile rose in his throat as he gazed down into the hole. The thing lay in pieces, studded with nails, and covered in rock. Chunks of ghost rock still burned, the smell of burnt flesh rising in the air. Chung rose unsteadily to his feet, swaying from the loss of blood. His chest was on fire, results of ribs broken or cracked by the falling stone. He staggered to the mouth of the cave, covering his eyes against the glare of the warm sun.
First he would find something to eat. Then, tomorrow, or maybe the next day, he would fashion a sail for the small skiff and set sail for home.
HELL BENT FOR LEATHER
By Don DeBrandt There were two things Parlor Calloway did well, and one of 'em was cook. After a hard day on the trail, the boys were always mighty glad to gather round Parlor's chuckwagon and eat whatever he dished out: from beans to biscuits, his food stuck to your ribs and stayed there.
The other thing he was good at serving up was a story. Whoppers, some of the hands called them, but even those who scoffed never got up in the middle of one to go water the bushes.
It was dusk now, the last few bloody fingers of sunset dragging down the desert sky. The trailhands were fed, the dishes washed, the campfire crackling. Parlor hunkered down with a tin cup of coffee between his bony hands, blowing on it to cool it off. He was skinny as a scarecrow, with wispy white hair and a face as wrinkled as a crumpled-up piece of paper.
Something howled, off in the distance, and one of the new trailhands-Andy, his name was-looked a little nervous.
"That didn't sound like no coyote," he said. "I've heard plenty, and that wasn't one
."
"Might be a dread wolf," one of the hands suggested.
"Or a night haunt," another added.
"T'ain't none of those things," Parlor said. "Not round these parts, not at this time of year. Why, I'd be surprised if there was an abomination within a hundred miles."
"Why's that, Parlor?" Quinton, the trailboss asked. He was a big, barrel-chested man with a mustache shaped like a longhorn's namesake.
'"Cause of the Rodeo, o' course," Parlor said.
The men settled in, got themselves comfortable; they knew when Parlor was about to spin a yarn.
***
I'm talking about the Great Abomination Rodeo, in case you didn't know. Don't feel like a greenhorn if you ain't never heard of it—few men this side of the grave have. It's held in a little town called Devil's Gullet, somewhere in the Nevada Badlands; I don't rightly know exactly where, and I wouldn't tell you if I did. Devil's Gullet is a ghost town, but once a year every unholy thing in the whole territory shows up there for three days of ropin', ridin' and wranglin', and for those three days there's a kind of truce among 'em. Critters that would normally be at each other's throats will walk side-by-side down the street, friendly as you please; nightmares and demons buy each other drinks in the saloon, and toast the Powers of Darkness.
The ones that come to compete are mostly the Harrowed. They come for a damn good reason, too: when one of 'em kills an Abomination, he gets to suck up some of its power. Those who do well in the Rodeo walk away a sight more fearsome than they were before.
Leastways, that's why most Harrowed compete in the Rodeo; some of 'em got more personal reasons. Like Slade Hardwell.
Slade was one tough sumbitch, that's for certain. He was sheriff of a little town called Serenity, near the Tex-Mex border, and he had to deal with outlaws and monsters of every stripe. He dealt with most of 'em with a six-gun, and the rest with a rope. Got to be so's the name of the town wasn't just a bad joke any more, and decent folks could feel safe.
Deadlands: For a Few Dead Guys More Page 17