by Tim Marquitz
“Just cut it short. Ain't gotta be perfect.”
Jasmine shrugged, taking the hilt and testing its weight. “You asked for it. Just don't come after me once you look in the mirror.”
Nina bent her head forward, and Jasmine leaned in, loosing Nina's hair. The woman went to work, pulling long sections and shredding them away, tossing the remnants on the floor. Nina was sad to see it go, but she had no particular love for her hair, anyhow. Got in the way more often than not. With the deaduns likely to tear it out, she figured it made sense to cut it short.
Jasmine's soft touches left Nina feeling strange but comforted, her brain buzzing from the attention. She shut her eyes and sunk further, her forehead coming to rest on Jasmine's soft chest as the woman made sense of the back.
“Knife's sharp. Maybe it won't be so bad.”
Nina breathed deep. By this time, only faint traces of Jasmine’s flowery perfume remained. All that was left was her strong, natural odor and leftover mingled scents of blood and grime. Weren’t none of them too pretty at the moment, but somehow Jasmine shone through the mess. The way she held herself. The way she moved. The way she touched. Nina couldn’t imagine what the woman must look like dressed to the nine’s.
Jasmine set the knife down and leaned back, tousling Nina's hair with both hands. She laughed. “Not too bad.”
Nina reached up and pushed Jasmine’s coat back, put her hands on the woman’s shoulders, feeling their solid form beneath her fingers, marveling at her light copper skin against Jasmine’s dark. Nina lowered her gaze, running her hands down the woman’s lean arms, tucking them beneath Jasmine’s elbows, and wrapping her in an embrace. Nina smiled when Jasmine shrugged off her coat and returned the squeeze. They pressed themselves together in unabashed affection, strangers just hours ago, worlds apart, now finding solace in one another.
As much as she loved Pa, he’d only taught her fear and mistrust of others. Rightfully so perhaps, but Pa’s occasional bear hugs couldn’t take the place of a friend’s embrace, a woman’s embrace. Like when she'd worked with her mother in the garden so long ago. Simple days with simple chores, her mother's soft hands on Nina's face, that reassuring feeling that Nina was loved—this was similar, but not exactly the same. Pleasant, either way.
The revelation left her feeling sad for her pa, sad for herself, and she missed Ma more than ever. Tears ran down Nina's face and wet Jasmine's shoulders.
Jasmine clenched harder. “Oh, Nina. You poor thing.”
“Nuthin’ poor about me,” Nina said, her lips pressed against Jasmine’s shoulder. “Just tired and worried, I guess.”
“And here I thought I was the frightened one.”
Nina laughed, her lips salty with her own tears and Jasmine’s sweat. “I’m scared shitless,” she whispered.
“Well, there’s two of us, then.”
A piece of broken crate crunched. A shadow moved over them. Nina jerked away, reaching for her knife.
“Easy, honey.” The figure’s hands went up in a defensive gesture. “It’s just me.”
Nina showed Strobridge the point of her knife, unsure if she was mad about the interruption, or if she simply didn’t like the man, then realized it was both. “Might want to announce yourself next time, asshole.”
“Hey, I’m visitin’ fair and square. Traded another bottle of whiskey for more water. Your people drive a hard bargain.” Strobridge’s eyes roamed over Jasmine’s body and switched to Nina, lingering on her open shirt. Nina wiped her wet eyes and resisted the urge to cover herself, unwilling to let the railroad boss know he made her uncomfortable.
Strobridge pressed his lips together, his eyes losing their relaxed joviality. “And while we’re on the subject of bargains.” He reached into his coat, pulling out a clip full of money. The boss counted out two bills and dropped them between the two women. “A hundred a piece if I can get both your asses up here side by side for a double screwing.”
Nina ground her teeth, a flush rising in her face. “Fuck you.”
“Aw, now. No need to be upset about it. Take it or leave it.”
“Leave it. C’mon.” Nina offered her hand to Jasmine.
Jasmine gave Nina an apologetic look and picked up both bills, stuffing them into a pocket. “It’s a lot of money.” She stood and began spreading her coat over the stone wall.
Strobridge snickered. “You sure you don’t want in on this, Injun girl? I love me some squaw.”
Nina fumbled for something smart to say; a stinging insult would have been nice. “I like real men, you son of a bitch,” was all she could think of.
“Didn’t look like that a second ago. Must be true about your folk being free spirits, touching each other’s Injun titties...”
Nina’s hand went to her hip, but her gun was out there with Manning and Pa. And before Nina could get herself into real trouble with the railroad boss, Jasmine turned and held out a clump. “Here’s them clothes I promised.” Her eyes held a thousand apologies, but she wasn’t afraid. And again, Nina felt like an idiot for thinking Jasmine didn’t have to make her own way in this world. But what was so damn wrong about caring for someone?
Nina snatched the denims and shirt out of Jasmine’s hand, moved a pace or two away and turned to the side. If she stormed out now, Strobridge would have won, and she couldn’t very well get changed out there in front of all those other men. She wasn’t worried about Pa and Manning, but had no idea about Buck or anyone else out there, though she was beyond angry at them for letting Strobridge back here in the first-fucking-place. At least it was dark in the well room.
She moved the bucket to the side and unbuttoned her blood-crusted shirt while Jasmine pulled up her dress and bent over. Nina caught a glimpse of Jasmine's long dark legs and bare backside before averting her gaze. Strobridge unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. There was a rustle of clothing and a gasp from Jasmine.
Nina glanced up and caught the railroad boss’s bearded face pointed her way while he worked his thing into Jasmine. Nina hated being part of the display, but she wasn’t about to let Strobridge shake her. He kept his head turned her way in the dark as he moved his hips harder and harder, grunting as he worked. Jasmine let out soft gasps to the rhythm of Strobridge’s thrusts.
Nina used the rag real quick to wipe the blood caked in her waist area, getting out dried up scabs and other things she couldn't quite describe. She worked her shirt and overalls off, biting her lip as she got naked, then quickly pulled on the clean shirt and trousers hoping Strobridge hadn’t been able to see anything in the dim light.
Petty feelings of betrayal gnawed at her. What did it matter who Jasmine fucked? Why was Nina sore about her making two-hundred damn dollars? It wasn't that. What bothered her was that arrogant shit-stain who thought he owned everyone, waltzing in here and interrupting a much-needed quiet moment, trying to make the women feel embarrassed and flashing his paper and his pecker.
Nina pulled on her boots, tucked her pants in them, and snatched up her hat. By this time, Strobridge had worked himself into a frenzy, hands gripping Jasmine's hips, thighs slapping against her ass. Nina glared at his stupid, lustful grin—good thing she didn’t have her six-gun right now because she’d shoot that demonic grin off the bastard’s goddamn face.
Instead, she picked up the sopping, bloody rag, and tossed it at him. She’d only meant to get him a little wet, but her throw went high. The rag splattered against his face and rolled down between him and Jasmine and landed hanging from his cock.
“In case you need to clean up after,” she said.
“Goddamn it!” Strobridge sputtered as Nina strutted out of the well room with a scowl on her face.
Chapter Eleven
Nina figured Strobridge would be jacked up from the humiliation and come tearing out with his pants half down, ready to break her neck. She hoped he tried, too. Give her an excuse to shoot the sonofabitch dead, increasing her and Pa's chances of getting out of here alive. No doubt he had enough money to b
uy off the Daggetts, which would make it hard for them to turn him over to that Liao character. Hell, he could probably buy everyone here except for Father Mathias; maybe Manning, too.
The way Nina saw it, if someone didn't tip the scale right now, there'd be a reckoning soon...and it wouldn't be between the living and the dead.
She waited for Mister Strobridge to come out, only he didn't, not right away. So, she sidled up next to the fire, tossing in tiny sticks, watching Pa sleep while Manning, Red Thunder, and Buck conversed quietly nearby. She narrowed her eyes at them as she strapped her gun belt about her waist. She’d be giving Manning a talking-to at the very least.
Much to her dismay, the railroad boss exited the well chamber with a grin on his face, holding a full bucket of water. Other than a red stain around his collar and tie, he looked right as rain. Even gave Nina a wink as he went by.
Nothing at all right about that.
Nina eyed the passage, waiting for Jasmine to come out. After a minute or two, Nina got worried and thought she might have to go in and fetch her. A dark feeling descended on her. Maybe she'd underestimated the railroad boss. Maybe he'd killed Jasmine, stabbed her, or pushed her down the well…
Nina sighed when the woman finally did come out, walking on wobbly legs, a whiskey bottle dangling from her hand. Jasmine sat down heavily, awkwardly, crossing her legs and lifting the bottle to her lips. A swath of her curlicue hair fell back, drawing an angry glare from Nina, a spark of red hot anger igniting behind her eyes. Jasmine had been hit. Hard, too. A bruise was already forming on her right cheek, her eye nearly swollen shut. A thin line of blood leaked from her mouth.
In what had become instinct, Nina’s hand fell to the curved grip of her Colt. Her jaws locked tight. “I’ll kill him.”
“No, you won’t,” Jasmine answered.
“He hit you because of me,” Nina tried to keep her voice down, but it threatened to rise. “Because I gave him a little of his own medicine.”
Nina started to get up but Jasmine grabbed her arm. “It wasn't because of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“He did it because I laughed at him.” Jasmine smiled, then grimaced. Nina noticed the tooth just behind her upper incisor had been knocked out, leaving a bloody gap. Jasmine touched her face. “Hurts like hell, but it was worth it.”
Nina held up her finger. “The only way it would be worth it is if we put a bullet in his pecker.”
Jasmine stared at Nina for a second, and then erupted in laughter. Nina wanted to laugh, too, but couldn’t get past Jasmine’s swollen, purple cheek.
“I spit my tooth in the bucket while he was pullin’ his pants up.” Jasmine grinned again, eyes filled with mirth.
This time Nina couldn’t resist. Thinking of Strobridge drinking several cups of water before discovering the bloody tooth bouncing around the bottom was too much for her to bear. They giggled together, Jasmine simultaneously snickering and crying while Nina’s insides wound as tight as a spring.
Jasmine pointed, and Nina followed her finger to find Manning, Buck, and Red Thunder staring at them with puzzled expressions, providing fuel for yet another bout of strained laughter. Just when Nina thought her face might get stuck, their joy subsided. Nina’s chest and stomach unclenched, and it seemed like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“You are a wicked thing,” she told Jasmine.
“Wicked is all I know.”
“If he lays another hand on either of us, I’m going to kill him.”
Jasmine nodded.
“I will,” she said.
“I don’t doubt you, hon.”
At that moment, Strobridge walked into No Man’s Land accompanied by the Daggetts. At first, Nina thought the tooth had been found and Strobridge wanted more blood, but he was calling amicably for everyone to come to the center, waving them in.
“Injuns welcome, too,” he said, smiling that shit-eating grin of his. “Injun women, as well.”
Pa shifted beside her. “What’s that?”
“They’re having a meeting.”
“I have a feeling…” Pa’s eyes became distant, as if looking at something very far away.
“What is it, Pa?” She helped him up. He was still unable to put much weight on his foot, but she had to admit it looked a little better.
Pa shook his head. “Oh, just a feeling like we’re nearing the end of something big.”
In No Man’s Land, Marshal Oden and the priest were already trying to placate Strobridge and the Daggetts.
“Now, James, you know it’s sure death if we go out there.”
“We don’t know that, Mathias. Don’t know that at all. Never got the whole story from that Injun girl.”
“Yeah, we were a little preoccupied with that talkin’ fuckin’ corpse,” George Daggett added, meaning Grover, much to the dismay of the Buell women.
“Her name is Nina,” Pa said, leaning into Nina a bit.
“Whatever. Nina,” George said. “You see anythin’ interesting from the roof? Any way through?”
Nina told them what she saw; silent deaduns packed inside the fort walls, completely surrounding the building. She related the part about Yellow Hood, how she’d tried to shoot him and what the shambling corpses had done to protect him.
Mathias nodded. “That would be Liao.”
Mason Daggett scratched his head. “If that was him out there, then what was that with Grover?”
Manning heaved a sigh. “Haven’t you boys figured this out yet? The dead are walking. Devils are possessing people, you get it?”
“That’s right,” Father Mathias said. “It’s certainly a dark, dark time. Souls being purged, balances tilted.”
Nina’s thoughts lingered on Father Mathias’s words, while the rest of them argued some more. She barely caught any of the conversation, but the gist was that Strobridge wanted to leave and Mathias wanted to stay. She couldn’t blame Strobridge, not after Liao found out he had this Taiping Jing. All Nina could think about were the legions of dead, mindless, yet somehow still linked with friends and family, fellow workers, too. Whatever seemed familiar to them. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“They must know who they are,” she mumbled.
“What?”
Nina cleared her throat. “The deaduns out there. They’re families, friends, still together. People who look like they might have known one another before. It’s like they’re still people in those rotten skulls somewhere.”
“Dealing with damnation the only way they can,” her pa added.
Father Mathias raised his hands just a little. “While there may be a shadow of the person remaining, trust me when I say their souls are gone.”
“How do you know all this shit?” George Daggett seemed to be having real difficulty fully grasping what was happening.
Father Mathias sat down in a nearby chair. “Liao Xu possessed our unfortunate brother, Mister Buell, and spoke through him. Liao is very old. Older than you can imagine, and he’s been plotting what he calls the Great Peace since before I was born.”
“Some peace,” Marshal Oden said. “Why here? Why us?”
“Fair question, Marshal. The answer is ill luck.”
“Ill fuckin’ luck?” George Daggett scratched his head.
“Yes, you see, beneath the surface of everything around you lies a world of darkness and mystery…some might say magic. Life is comprised of good and evil and everything in between. So, the world has not suddenly gone bad. It has always had the potential to be so. And it has done so before, in olden times.”
“Olden…?” George looked damned near about to have another fit. “What the fuck does any of this have to do with us?”
Father Mathias shifted in his chair. “My order, among others, has kept the balance for centuries. Certainly, the scales have tipped back and forth from time to time. Lately, we’ve been trying to stop Liao Xu. We caught up to him in San Francisco where I was able to take from him the artifact we spoke of earlier.
Your Mister Strobridge returned the favor, stealing it from me, and so we’re forced to confront both parties here. So, my dear Mister Daggett, you being here is the only coincidence. The rest is quite planned. But I, for one, am glad to have you.”
“Glad to…? Well, this all fuckin’ figures,” George said.
“Indeed it does fucking figure, good George,” the priest said in an odd mockery of George’s wont to cuss. “And the truth is we’re not sure Liao Xu can control what he has unleashed. The soulless husks of humanity, mindless bodies ravenous for flesh.”
“Those poor, poor, bastards,” Pa said.
“What the fuck you talkin' about?” George looked at Nina’s father.
“They were people once, you fool. People with lives and families.”
“That’s what I’m sayin’.” Strobridge’s dark, serious eyes checked everyone in the group and settled on Mathias. “That’s why we got to make a break for it now, Thomas. So we don’t end up like them. Look, I know you hate me, and I’m not too fond of you neither, but you gotta see the sense in us hightailing it outta here.”
“Just how do you propose attacking hundreds of these things?” Marshal Oden crossed his massive arms, his bloody shirt ready to burst at the seams.
“My man Woodie’ll blast a path through. Everyone else can pick off the strays.”
Manning gestured toward Over There. “You mentioned not leaving anyone behind before. What about now? We've got a young girl and a man who can hardly walk. How do you propose to roll the wheelbarrow through all that mess?
Mister Strobridge clenched his jaw. “I was gonna ask you and the marshal to do body patrol. You can clear a path easy enough, at least until we get outside the fort.”
“Very well thought out, Mister Strobridge,” Mathias nodded, crossing his legs and running his hand over his chin. “But then where will you go? Down to the creek? Hop on a ferry?”
“For your information,” Strobridge turned on Mathias. “I’ve got a train prepped for a return east. It was scheduled to start its run today. If we can get to it, we can have it moving inside two hours.”