Those Poor, Poor Bastards (Dead West Book 1)

by Tim Marquitz

  A sudden crack split the ground with a vibration like thunder, fractures splicing beneath them. Without thinking, Nina grasped Pa's outstretched arms and yanked as a massive slab of floor bucked and collapsed completely, taking Red Thunder with it. Buck flipped and started to slide in, but at the last second latched hold of the edge and crawled from the brink.

  Pa covered Nina as they hunkered against the wavering wall. She was fearful it might collapse but was also afraid of being dumped into the darkness. She reached out and put her hand against the vibrating stone, as if she could hold the damn thing up. More of the roof fell in, sharp things nipping her exposed skin. Pa cursed and held her tight.

  Just as quickly as it started, the rumbling stopped, leaving nothing but silence and the leftover drone in her head.

  In the distance, shots rang out.

  Someone groaned nearby. A man called out, maybe Manning, she couldn’t be sure. For the second time, she and her pa unburied themselves, pushing off rotted wood. She pulled Pa to his knees and inspected the damage.

  They were on the precipice of a hole that had to be twelve or fifteen feet deep and about ten feet wide. The slab of floor that had fallen in was partially lit by the gray sky, but there was no sign of Red Thunder, and Nina felt sad about that, but there was no time to dwell.

  The fissure undercut the well walls, which had also collapsed inward, burying the water hole for good. Another crack had broken the floor of No Man's Land, and the priest and the marshal stood amidst the partially crumbled roof and walls. Oden’s hand covered the red stain on his abdomen where George had stabbed him and he grimaced.

  The man who’d been calling out to her was Manning. She turned her head to see him trying to work his way around the fissure to her left. Cuts lined his face, but she saw the urgency in his eyes. He held his hands out, palms up. “Stay there!”

  Nina nodded, but she didn’t think he could make it to her. There was only one or two feet between the wall and sinkhole, and much of that was blocked by debris. The front doors had collapsed in and lay across the rubble, and she could see the deaduns outside coming to life.

  Somewhere to her left, Jasmine was yelling as she dug around in the debris, trying to find Clara and Rachel.

  “My gun,” Nina said to Manning, her voice sounding loud in her head.

  “What?”

  Nina realized she’d hardly made a noise. “Throw my gun,” she shouted, her voice like a cannon in her head, adding to the splitting headache already there. She pointed at the weapon for good measure.

  Manning nodded and went over, picked it up, and blew the dust off. He turned it around, gripped it by the top, and tossed it over. Nina’s hands came to life, snatching it out of the air. She checked the caps and load. Everything looked okay. She just hoped the damn thing still fired.

  Pa put his hand on her shoulder, leaning on her some while balancing on one foot. “You okay?”

  “I think so. You?”

  “I’m going to have to be okay, girl. I’ll limp, crawl, or shuffle my way around. Just doesn’t look like there’s any place to go.”

  Nina glanced at Jasmine, who’d managed to get the debris off Clara Buell.

  The deaduns were riled up, gnashing with those trap jaws, flexing rotted fists. Yet, they didn’t come. Maybe Liao, or God, or who-the-fuck-ever, was indeed taking a nap.

  Jasmine made a fearful noise, her hand clamping over her mouth as she scooted away from Clara Buell.

  “What is it?”

  Jasmine shook her head, getting as far away as she could without falling into the hole.

  “Pa?”

  “Go on and help her. I can stand here until those boys find a way to get me across.”

  Nina left him leaning against the wall and picked her way over to Jasmine.

  “What is…”

  One look at Clara Buell and Nina understood. The woman sprawled atop a pile of wood where Jasmine had rolled her over, one bony leg dangling out over the precipice. At first glance, Clara looked dead. Nina hoped she was because a flat piece of rock had wedged itself horizontally into her eye socket. The ruined eyeball oozed around the stone, blood running out the sides in rivulets. The injury might not kill her right away, but it would hurt like hell. And who knew how a wound like that might fester without immediate attention? Nina gripped her Colt and thought about putting it to use on Clara, remembering Manning’s promise to the woman.

  Clara Buell gasped and woke up, her good eye working in a flurry of blinks. She glared at Jasmine, and then Nina. Her wounded eye tried to work but managed only to twitch and wiggle around the rock. “Where’s Rachel?” Her calm tone belied her condition.

  Nina went down on her knee next to Clara, the wound looking even worse close up. She tried not to stare. “Rachel’s okay. Right, Jasmine?”

  “She’s here.” That much was true. Jasmine had helped Rachel up and pulled the girl into her arms.

  Clara smiled, reaching toward her weeping daughter. “Oh, thank you so much.” She shook her head. “What happened? I remember that awful Daggett and then an explosion...oh, I don’t feel so well.”

  She looked much worse than not well, but they needed to get moving. Rachel tried to look at her mother, but Jasmine embraced her tight, pulling her head away.

  Clara’s face filled with confusion, her good eye darting around as if she just now sensed something wrong. She drew a sudden, sharp intake of breath and said, “Ow.”

  Nina took the woman’s arm, coaxing her up. “We need to get over to the other side of this hole, Clara. The deaduns will be coming soon…see the hole?”

  Clara jerked her hand away and put it over her eye socket. “What's this?” She felt the stone's sharp edge, then pressed her fingers lightly against her brow, touching her temple and cheek. “What…” A high, thin whine began in Clara's throat as the pain registered. A drawn out “nooo” joined the whine.

  Nina tried to touch her, to console her somehow, but Clara wouldn't have it. With each consecutive breath, the woman got louder, her whines swelling into full-breathed howls. She picked at the rock with a shaking hand, but it wouldn't budge, the gelatinous composition of her eye suctioned around it.

  Nina grabbed Clara's hand. “Clara…don't…you can't pull it out. Don't…” Nina fought with the woman, who slapped Nina back, her open hands turning into fists. Nina caught a shot to the head, but snagged Clara's wrist, grunting as she pulled it down.

  What Nina didn't anticipate was the woman's left cross to her jaw. The punch rattled her teeth and sent her brain spinning. A guttural snort burst from her lips, and she raised her pistol over her head and slammed it down.

  Clara fell limp on a pile of rot-musty wood.

  “Ma? Ma!” Rachel squirmed in Jasmine's arms, nearly knocking them both into the pit.

  Nina snatched Rachel’s arm, yanked her from Jasmine's grasp, and spun her around to face her. “Look here now...” She paused a sec, glanced to see that Manning and the priest had placed a large beam across the pit, Mathias balancing carefully across it.

  Rachel squirmed and screamed in a shuffle of rage and frustration. Nina squeezed the girl's arm, shook her some. “Rachel Buell, listen to me. Listen!”

  The girl stopped and stared at Nina.

  “Your mother is very ill, and she's sleeping. We're going to get her to a doctor as soon as we can, but we need you to grow the hell up quick. Can you do that for me?”

  This was rough treatment, Nina knew it. She reckoned Rachel was about the same age she was when she lost her ma. Pa had done the same for her when she’d caterwauled in hysterics on that terrible day.

  The girl squeezed her eyes shut, a stream of tears spilling out from the cracks, and nodded. “Is my mama going to die?”

  It was a fair question.

  “I won’t lie. She's hurt real bad...” Nina clutched Rachel’s shoulder. “There’s a real good possibility she might die. But if you calm down and help us, your Ma’s got a lot better chance. You just need to...” Rach
el had stopped paying attention, the girl’s eyes drifting up, tracing something behind her. The light from the dead gray sky reflected something there, something rising…something huge.

  She looked aside, saw Jasmine, Manning, and Mathias peering up behind her as well, all of them round-eyed and slack-jawed.

  “Christ…” Manning said in a drawn-out whisper.

  “Christ indeed,” echoed Father Mathias. “Saints help us.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nina shifted to face this new terror, her pistol raised.

  When she saw it, her knees nearly buckled, heart thumping in her chest. Only her hand against the wall kept her from collapsing. But what would keep her from going insane? What would keep her from losing her goddamn mind and ending up a gibbering mess?

  Two spindly, insect limbs as thick as tree branches hooked the top of the wall and pulled it down in a tumble of rock. A fat, bulbous torso fell upon the ruins, followed by two more legs tipped with hooked talons. Several long, wavering tentacles, the color of rancid meat, rolled from its thorax and probed the ground. Its hoary coat was the color of charcoal, plates of tin and steel sparsely woven into the hide.

  Wings unfurled, a pattern of black and gray swirls to match the sky at its back.

  It wore a mask of bone, mouth a vertical slit filled with large, human-like teeth, eyes the same bulging black Grover Buell’s had been. Feathery antennae sprouted from its head.

  Liao’s voice poured out of that gnashing mouth, his tone a snide elegance that flowed in defiance of the creature’s deformed maw. “I dreamt I was a butterfly, but when I awoke, I wondered if it was the butterfly dreaming of me.” The thing laughed, its monstrous body quaking with the sound.

  The smell of dead flowers was overpowering. More like a garden of dead flowers; the sweet decay of leaf, stem, and withered root.

  Liao’s eyes locked on Jasmine where she’d fallen across a pile of rubble, paralyzed with fear. Two foul tentacles slithered along the ruins toward her. Nina holstered her weapon and drew her blade. Against all instincts, she picked her way over the debris, stepping across a panel of wooden shingles to stoop over her friend.

  “No!” Jasmine screamed, just before the tentacles leapt forward, wrapping around her legs with a moist hiss.

  Nina poised to strike, but a bright light flushed the air, a powdery luminescence that eased her fear. She looked over her shoulder to see Father Mathias still standing on the beam across the hole, holding up a small crucifix between his index finger and thumb.

  “Hold, beast!”

  The foul creature reared up, twisting, its spindly arms thrown up in a weak attempt to block Mathias’s holy light. The wings curled, quivering. The tentacles held Jasmine a moment more, then released her, slithering away with desperate insistence.

  “You’re wasting your time on us, Liao. Strobridge has what you want.”

  The thing that was Liao squinted and winced before keening at the light. “My heavenly subjects will bring Mister Strobridge to me. In the meantime, I thought I would take the opportunity to rid myself of some pests.”

  “Do pests fight back, Liao?” Mathias spat the words and raised his cross higher, pressing the beam of light against the creature’s skin, smoldering it in wisps of smoke.

  “Some pests bite but, in the end, they are easily stamped out.” Liao’s claws anchored him to the walls and earth. His massive wings spread, beating the air with frantic thrusts. The foul scent of dead flowers rose once more, riding on the tails of a buffeting wind. The scent filled Nina’s head, reminding her of death. Once again her spirits sank.

  The tentacles returned, yanking Jasmine off the pile of rubble.

  Nina leapt into action, her fears trounced by desperation. She clutched one tentacle, sawing at it with her knife. It was icy to the touch, strong and sinuous. It jerked Jasmine out of reach.

  Nina leapt and fell atop the woman to keep her from moving and started sawing again. One more cut and the horrid appendage was severed, waving around and shooting gouts of oily black ichor everywhere.

  The other tentacle released its hold and swatted Nina across the face. Her head rang, but she managed to shield herself with her arm long enough to crawl over Jasmine and get to her feet. Once up, Nina ducked a wild swipe, narrowly avoiding being knocked into the pit.

  She thought she heard Pa yelling for her just before gunshots rang out. Wings batted the air, stirring up a cloud of dust and darkness that battled Mathias’s white force. A fist-sized rock struck Liao in the face, bouncing harmlessly away. In return, two clawed legs ripped apart a section of crumbling wall and hurtled the mess across the pit.

  The tentacle stalked Nina, hovering before her, feinting. It was so fast she could barely track its movement. She held her blade point up, swinging at every movement. She might have nicked it once or twice.

  Nina switched her stance, one misplaced foot twisting on a rock. The tentacle dove in, the tip poking her in the stomach. Her counter slice just missed the retreating appendage. Before she could blink, it thrust again, this time drilling her in the left shoulder, sending her flying to the ground.

  Nina tried to move, but the thing was on her, beating her relentlessly while more tentacles slid past to get at the others. She heard Jasmine grunt and yell repeatedly, gutturally, as she attempted to fight off the invading swarm. Rachel Buell screamed a cry of terror that drove Nina on.

  She kicked and swung wildly, her own voice lending urgency to the fight.

  The sound of drums sounded faintly in the back of her mind, a slow, steady rhythm in all the chaos. Time slowed, her focus narrowed, tired arms found strength. The crafty appendage stood out in vivid clarity.

  Nina let it come.

  When it struck, she caught the tendril with her left arm, wrapping it up in a tight grip. It yanked her from the ground, pulling her forward. She angled her feet, but missed the landing; instead, Nina struck the pile of wood-jagged debris chest first. The wind rushed from her lungs, yet she hung on.

  “Die, fucker, die!” Nina sawed the appendage until it snapped loose, trailing away in spouts of murky blood. She crawled to her knees, her body shaking, lungs so sore it almost wasn’t worth it to breathe. More shots rang out, but she hardly cared. Just a minute to rest, twenty seconds even.

  Rachel Buell slid by too fast for Nina to react, dragged by one of those things. She made a silent apology, her heart breaking, as the girl was lifted into the air, out of reach.

  Father Mathias saw it, too. “Unhand that servant of the Lord, foul beast. Creature of Hell! It is God who commands you!”

  But Liao’s dark power saturated the air, his foul reek permeating everything. Two of his clawed feet were busy with Manning and Marshal Oden while his eyes remained locked on the Father Mathias. “It’s over, Thomas!”

  Clara Buell felt otherwise.

  The woman charged over Nina, teeth bared as she hooked her arms around the thieving vine. Clara’s damaged eye leaked down the side of her face, unable to remain in her head any longer. The Liao beast lifted her, kicking and screaming, into the air. She opened her mouth and clamped down on the tough, fibrous appendage, head tearing back and forth like a vicious dog.

  The thing’s grasp on Rachel loosened, and Nina saw her chance, reaching over the emptiness to pull the girl in. Two more of the snaky tendrils wrapped themselves around Clara’s body. The three together slammed her to the jagged ground. Still, the mad woman clung. Her face was covered in gore as she gnawed, finally pulling the two pieces apart in a cry of victory.

  She held the squirming tendril over her head and whooped, only to be squeezed unmercifully and ripped apart. Everything inside her poured out; intestines, organs, and what seemed like buckets of blood. Liao Xu tossed Clara’s halves away.

  Rachel Buell let loose an anguished, shrill sound as Liao pulled his massive bulk over the pile of crushed stone, his wings moving lazily as he searched for his next victim.

  Nina hugged Rachel close and offered what she could in the
last minutes of their lives; the feel of a human embrace. She looked across at her pa, where he was slumped against a tumbled pile of timber and clay bricks. He looked back, eyes wet, and gave her a serene nod, reached up with a bloodied hand and blew his daughter a final kiss.

  “That’s it,” Nina whispered in Rachel’s ear. “But it’s okay…” She could hardly believe it. It was her time, everyone’s time, and she’d pass into the next world along with Pa, Manning, and Jasmine. Rachel, too. Fuck the rest. Maybe Pa was right. Maybe it was better to end it now than to keep on suffering in this shithole of a world.

  A war cry shook Nina to the core, the sharp sound sending chills up her spine. She’d heard similar calls when braves returned from a hunt or scouting mission, but this was different. Driven from the lungs of an enraged warrior, it sounded like a death knell to all within earshot.

  Red Thunder bounded from the pit and up the slanted slab. He’d stripped away his vest, exposing his coppery skin and muscled torso. His eyes flashed with hatred, his dark hair flying wild behind him. He’d colored the top half of his face with mud or coal, looking like a screaming demon risen from the dark to deal proper justice to his foe.

  Tomahawk held high, he charged up the pile of stone and wood and swiped at Liao’s masked face. The monstrous visage jerked back, barely avoiding being cleaved in two. Tendrils fell on the warrior, but Red Thunder hacked them to pieces. One found purchase, wrapping around his chest, holding him in place while a clawed leg poised to end the warrior.

  As it descended, Marshal Oden was suddenly there, stepping in and catching the dagger-like tip on his shoulder. The marshal wrapped his big arms over the top of the leg as the claw snapped in again, thunking into his back. The big man’s cry rang out as he was forced to his knees. Still, he bared his teeth and held on to the appendage for all his worth, bearing down with his prodigious strength and tethering Liao in place.