by R. B. Tetro
“It’s not good, go around we should,” suggested Scout.
Daniel made a shushing motion with his index finger. “I know we should go around, but we can’t afford...” Pointing at Mr. Mean, he looked at Scout hard enough to make him want to crawl out of his skin. “Were did you get this, Scout?”
For a moment, Scout froze. Although he’d served with Daniel many years and through many battles, Daniel still scared the hell out of him.
Daniel reached out, quick as a snake, grabbing him by his favorite, tattered and torn, Bob Marley t-shirt, bringing him face to face with him. “I said…where did you get that?”
My friend at the Keep gave me Mr. Mean, said to give him back if we meet in between.”
Daniel walked over, gingerly picking up Mr. Mean, turning him upside down. “Here it is, right here… don’t you see, Scout? It’s my son’s toy!” Daniel was pointing to the letter D crudely carved into the bottom of Mr. Mean’s left foot. “My son gave you this. Darius is my son. You were being truthful about him helping you and Tinker, and Tom escape the Keep!”
“I told you my friend was a friend to the end.”
Daniel wasn’t listening… he was looking at Mr. Mean, remembering back to when he’d given the toy to his son before his last deployment. Alive, he was still alive! But wait, Scout and Tinker and Tom had escaped the Keep a long time ago. There was no guarantee that his son or his wife would still be alive when they got there, but still, deep inside of his heart Daniel felt a faint stirring of hope. He looked at Scout, who was looking longingly at his trusted, green friend.
Daniel tossed Mr. Mean to Scout suddenly. Scout caught him, putting him back in his back- pack before Daniel could change his mind. “What are we to do about- you know who?” asked Scout.
Daniel didn’t answer him. He was still thinking about his son, staring at several gigantic boulders balanced precariously over the edge above the rock demon packed trail. Scout’s gaze followed his and he smiled and clapped his hands and did a jig as he followed Daniel back to camp.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
I am in the calm before the storm
I journey with my battle-axe ready, and a watchful eye
Into the black forest I venture
each step taking me one step closer, to the precipice of hell…
- Poet
He knelt, parting the mountain clean water with his hands, not wanting to see his horribly disfigured face. The countless stars were his night light, casting everything around him in a faint silvery glow.
The camp slept, fitfully, but slept none the less. The first day of traveling had gone without incident. They’d been delightfully surprised to find that the land they were currently travelling through was dense, hardwood forest. Most of the people had been locked inside Over Watch for quite some time. They relished the opportunity to enjoy the time with nature. It was cathartic, except, of course, for the constant worry that someone or something would eat them.
Poet looked around, making sure no children were up and about before taking a small tin out of his pocket, opening it, and taking out a joint. He studied it momentarily before lighting it and taking a measured toke.
The joint was one of the last ones that he and the old lady had rolled together. Blinking back hot tears, he thought about his friend and how he missed her, and how he wished she was here so she could guide him as he helped guide the Over Watch survivors.
He’d come to rely on her calm demeanor and unflappable spirit, not to mention her irreplaceable friendship. Now, as they prepared to journey into the hottest place besides hell, he missed her with everything that he had.
He felt the ground stir behind him. It was Onyx. The wolf sat down beside him, looking at the joint in his hand expectantly.
“Oh no! The last time I got you high, Angel almost killed me. Go get your own weed, you pot-headed loco lobo!” Onyx nipped at his pant leg just hard enough to cause Poet concern, whining up at him like a kid wanting candy or ice cream.
Poet chuckled, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, smiling down at his ferocious friend. “Your timing is impeccable…as usual.” He took a long pull off the joint, knelt down and blew it directly into Onyx’s tooth- packed mouth. Onyx snorted and sneezed, leaning into Poet momentarily with thanks before trotting off to howl-which he did every night- far from their new sleeping friends.
Poet took one more small hit off the joint before going and finding a high place to keep watch from. Their escape, to him, had seemed almost too easy. Maybe he’d been through way too much and was now just being way too paranoid. Please God- just let it be it. I’ve been through too much and I’m just being paranoid. He took out a stub of a candle, lit it and set it down on a tall boulder.
Taking a detailed map out of his inner jacket pocket, he unfolded it and began to study. Scout might be crazy but he could sure draw a map, Poet thought. The map was done in different colors and symbols, as good as any Rand McNally map had ever seen. The path they would take was easy. They would simply head west until they either burned to death in the Griddle, were eaten or, miracle of all miracles, some of them actually made it to the Star Towers alive.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
By the time the sun cast its promising pink shadow on the eastern horizon, Daniel’s group of killers were ready to exact some much needed payback. Daniel looked over at Pops, who was literally salivating at the chance to kill some of the creatures that had killed his beloved, oldest son. His intense face was set for killing, his gaze unwavering on the vicious group of rock demons below them.
Daniel waited for the rest of the men to give him the thumbs up before giving the signal to Pops to start the party. Pops grunted, pushing with his back against the massive boulder balanced on the edge of the sheer, drop-off. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, just as Daniel was going to help him, the boulder started to shift, then move forward inch by excruciating inch until it dropped like a giant death bomb, smashing four rock demons underneath it.
The rest of the men strained behind their own boulders before pushing them off the edge, splattering the unsuspecting rock demons below. It was glorious. One after another the rock demons were smashed into a puddle of pulp while the men cheered from above. No less than twenty rock demons were dead, and two rendered helpless.
Daniel and the rest of the men couldn’t help but smile as they made their way down to the canyon floor to dispatch the rest of them. Before they attacked, Daniel gave them all a look that said, be careful, don’t get cocky. There were still dangerous rock demons milling about looking to get some payback of their own.
Daniel took on the first one that came at them, slashing and hacking at it while Scout darted behind it and cut its ankle tendons. The demon floundered on the ground in a puddle of its own blood before Daniel cut its head off. Juggernauts war hammer’s broke on the back of the demon he was tangling with. The demon looked at him, grinning, showing hundreds of pointy teeth. Then, Juggernaut took it by surprise, boxing it and hitting it several times in the face, driving it back against the blood-spattered rocks until it countered with a barrage of flesh ripping blows.
Back and forth, the two of them fought, fist to claw, tooth to tooth. Finally, after giving a loud roar, Juggernaut, stepped inside of the rock demons long reach, driving the edge of his knuckles hard into its throat. The demon went down, gasping and drowning on its own, blood. As it lay twitching and dying, Juggernaut stomped down on its head, popping it like a gourd full of rancid, black wine.
Ten feet to his left, Pops was screaming, his face a mask of rage as he stabbed and hacked the already dead bodies of two rock demons, over and over again, until Daniel finally got him to calm down and get control of his bloodlust. One by one, they killed the remaining rock demons together, until it was only them left standing in the pass.
After a moment of silence passed and the red fog of battle subsided, the men started looking at each other and smiling, then grinning, then laughing. “It feels good to finally win a bat
tle, am I right men?” shouted Daniel.
All of them raised their weapons and shouted, each of them drunk on violence and ready for more. “Who is ready to go to the Keep?” Daniel shouted.
As one, they bellowed their war-cries, each of them trying hard to believe in the unbelievable notion that they could actually succeed at their fools’ mission and return back to the ones they’d left behind, each of them sobering at the thought of just how tall the odds were stacked against them.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Dead Stone got its name because just about everyone that went near the town ended up stone dead. Anybody that lived in or around the territory, and considered themselves a badass, had to test themselves in Dead Stone. It was a rite of passage to every gun slinging wanderer in the territory. If you made it out of Dead Stone alive, people looked at you different.
After travelling for more than three days without water, the parched and dying Over Watch survivors were ready to take their chances. It was decided that a small group would go and try and bring back water. It was also decided that if they didn’t promptly return, the entire force of free Americans would descend on the cowboy town like Thor’s hammer.
Angel, Onyx, Jessie, Poet, Lucas, and Reverend said their goodbyes to the group and wandered into Dead Stone. When he was a child, Poet remembered seeing a movie called, West World. It was a movie about two men that paid to have the western/ cowboy experience. In the movie, the men get a lot more of a Western experience than they’d expected.
That was what the town of Dead Stone reminded him of, a place right out of history; frozen in time. The last time he remembered seeing that many guns and cowboy hats in one place at one time was before the bombs went off, when he’d went to Texas to visit his in-laws.
Dead Stone was busy that day with people going this way and that. They kept in single file, making their way to a metal building that said DRY GOODS on a wooden sign out front. As they weaved their way through the crowd, more than one person looked warily at them, especially at Onyx, who travelled close to Angel’s side.
She and the rest of them kept their heads down and tried to blend in, although they were obviously not locals. As they entered the store, the storekeep looked at them with a pissed off- what the hell do you want? -look on his face. Lucas was about to say something but Poet put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head no. Lucas nodded, relaxed and stepped over to look at a glass case full of gleaming pistols.
The storekeep made his way behind the counter to keep a close eye on them while Poet and Reverend gathered a few supplies. After shopping for a bit, Poet went to pay for his items.
“That’ll be thirty silvers,” the storekeep informed him.
Poet frowned and looked at the man hard enough to let him know that they both knew that he was charging almost double the value of the small amount of supplies they were buying. The storekeep almost looked guilty, but managed to keep smiling while he took the small fortune from Poet, trying hard not to look at his face. “Looks like rock demons been at you…is that what happened?” he pried.
Poet looked the crook straight in the eye to let him know that that subject was not, nor would it ever be, any business of his. “Were can we get some water?” he asked.
The storekeep visibly faltered and stepped further behind the counter-out of reach- before answering. “You have to go to the marshal to sign up for water. His office is across the street, down by the Saloon,” he answered.
Poet noticed that he still wasn’t making eye contact. “Don’t you have any water here?” asked Lucas.
The storekeep stopped smiling and looked up- way up- at Lucas and Jessie, who were towering over him. “You have to be on a list to get water. They give it out twice a day. You gotta stand in line and pay plenty,” the man mumbled.
Poet and Reverend exchanged glances. They didn’t have a whole lot of silver left, and they needed quite a bit of water because of their numbers and the length of the journey they would have to travel. “How do you get on the list?” Poet asked.
Before the shifty store clerk could answer his question, the front door was flung open and a burly, bearded man came in wearing a badge with five men carrying rifles behind him.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
They were somber as they crested the ridge and looked down at the almost deserted campground. “We stay together. We get in, and get out. You can buy whiskey but we won’t drink it there. Chains… Basher, you guys stay here with Scout. No killing anyone unless I give the go ahead, then we kill and retreat. Is that clear?”
Everyone nodded and looked at Chains and Basher. “Why y’all looking at us? We ain’t gonna kill nobody… for no reason!” exclaimed Basher. Everyone looked at him doubtfully and he started to grin as he looked at Chains.
“I reckon if there aint gonna be no killing, we might as well not go. We’ll keep it locked down, Captain,” Chains said seriously. Basher looked longingly at the town. He wanted to party, but he knew his captain was right in his thinking. He nodded and left to follow Scout, mumbling to himself.
Daniel and Pops looked at each other and smiled, nodding their goodbyes before heading down toward the town. Juggernaut stood, watching them go and looking at Chains, with a confused look on his face.
“It’s okay, Jugger. You go with them. If you’re not back soon, we’ll come find you.”
Juggernaut thought about that for a moment and nodded, waving half-heartedly before heading after Daniel and Pops. Chains watched them for a moment, before turning and studying Basher. His brother was watching them leave with a seriously disappointed look on his face. Chains smiled, affectionately patting Basher on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. When we get to the Keep there’ll be more than enough killing.”
Basher scowled down at his big brother’s hand, resting on his shoulder. Chains removed it. “It’s not the killing, man. I done me plenty of killing. It’s the women… ain’t no women in the Keep, ‘ceptn for the ones that want to eat you…”
Chains laughed. “I hear tell they got civilized women… held captive on an island behind the Keep, maybe you could get one of those.”
Basher’s face brightened immediately. He squared his shoulders, turning to follow his brother. “One of ‘em hell… I’ll get em all…”
Chains shook his head, picking his way up the trail. “All of em? I’d settle for just one...”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
“The name’s Virgil… Virgil Stone. If you want water, you have to deal with me.”
Everyone froze, except for Reverend who continued to browse casually. “Okay. Say, we want some water. How much do you charge… for a gallon?”
Virgil guffawed, roughly jostling one of his deputies. The other deputies started nudging each other, laughing along with Virgil, and stopping abruptly when he did. “A gallon…did you just say a gallon? We don’t give out gallons. You get two cups, per day, if you work in the mines all day.”
All four deputies racked a shell into the chamber of their rifles.
Lucas wrapped his hand around the handle of a pick axe, tapping it against his other hand and gauging the distance between him and the so- called deputies. Jessie reached over, taking the pick axe handle away from him. “Not yet, little brother, not yet…”
Reverend stared casually at the deputies holding the rifles. If he was nervous, you couldn’t tell it. “We’re not here to work. We’re on our way to the Star Towers and we need water for the journey.”
Virgil hitched his gun belt up over his considerable belly, hooking his thick thumbs under the bullet-lined leather, jerking on it several times. “I don’t think you were listening, old timer. I said…” his voice trailed off as Angel came out from behind one of the shelfs. “Well, I’ll be…if she ain’t the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen!”
Angel looked at him like he was a walking boil and hurried over to stand beside Poet. Virgil stood staring at her with a thin line of spittle running down onto his shirt. “I tell you what, Scar-face.
You give me that there woman, I’ll give you all the water you need.”
“No deal!” Angel stated loudly.
Poet’s hand started inching toward the pistol behind his back.
The deputies weren’t paying attention to any of them, except for Reverend and his pearl handled Python’s. Everybody in the territory knew about Reverend and how fast he was with his pistols and how many men had found out that he was fast with his pistols- the hard way. They started looking at each other nervously.
“The woman is with me. No amount of nothing is going to change that. Now…about that water,” Poet responded.
Virgil was talking to Poet but his eyes never strayed from Angel. “That woman will be going with me, whether you want to trade her for water or not. This is my town, ugly boy, and what I say goes, you got it?”
“You touch her, I’ll kill you where you stand,” Poet warned.
Virgil was just about to say something when Onyx appeared suddenly, growling low in his throat and then, walking over to stand in front of Angel.
For a moment, Virgil was caught off guard. There were rarely wolf sightings and to suddenly have this freakishly large animal, which obviously wanted to eat him, in his town unnerved him. Much to his credit, though, he recovered quickly and pointed his handheld cannon at Onyx. “That giant wolf ain’t gonna make no difference. ‘Sides, there ain’t no wolves allowed inside city limits. Come on over here, young lady,” he growled.
He jerked his head at one of the deputies. The man walked over to Angel, keeping his rifle pointed at Onyx. Reaching up, he grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her away from Poet. Before anyone could react, Angel slashed out with a cruel looking, double bladed dagger, neatly amputating the deputy’s middle finger.