Bodacious Creed: a Steampunk Zombie Western (The Adventures of Bodacious Creed Book 1)

by Jonathan Fesmire

  Creed's body lay in a middle drawer, at the level of Jonny’s belly, ideal for the work they had to do. Jonny passed Anna scalpel and forceps.

  Anna closed her eyes to let her anxiety pass. She never expected to have to cut into her own father. Something new to get used to.

  Anna pulled the sheet down further and examined the chest wound. The single red hole in his chest showed that Blake’s bullet must have penetrated Creed’s heart. If so, the organ would probably be irreparable. She sliced across the entrance, the skin splitting and peeling apart, then used the forceps to open the wound, and sliced along the striations of the pectoralis major. She had Jonny put on his gloves and pull the chest and ribs open.

  Among the pooled blood sat Creed’s tattered heart. Repair, if possible, would be like putting together a puzzle with dozens of pieces.

  “Think it will fit?” she asked Jonny.

  Her lover had a long look at the wound, then nodded. Anna opened a panel in the round healing unit, blood smearing across its surface, flipped a small lever, then pushed the rounded plate past Jonny’s straining fingers, into Creed’s chest.

  Jonny removed the gloves and put them in the pack he wore over his shoulder. He then handed Anna the bottle of vodka and a clean linen cloth from the pack. She cleaned the area, then Jonny stitched it carefully with silken thread, and draped the sheet back over Creed.

  Of course, she worried what Crowder would think, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t dare expose the bribe, lest he find himself in legal trouble.

  When they returned home, Anna looked over her shelves of books in the laboratory. The leather-bound volumes covered topics she loved, ranging from anatomy to mechanics to science. Not even Uncle Emilio had known her fascination with these subjects. She had feared that he, or her aunt, would discourage her interests.

  Aunt Loretta, who had once been a school teacher, knew reading, writing, history, arithmetic, and housekeeping. Grammar schools taught little in the way of science, so why would Anna need it? Of course, they had never actually learned of her passions. The few books she’d managed to acquire and hide, including Isaac Newton’s Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, in the original Latin, she had taken with her.

  Around noon, to give her mind a rest and to distract herself, she assisted in the saloon. Pounding came from the outside, so she went to have a look. A boy of perhaps sixteen was nailing a poster to the front wall.

  Rather than reprimand him, she nodded at the parchment. “Well, it's about damned time.”

  “We put up posters yesterday. With what happened to Creed, the reward has gone up.” He turned to her and his eyes widened for a second. “It's, um, they're gonna catch him. We are, I mean. The deputies and marshals. I was with the men helping Marshal Creed. We’re all working with Bateman now.”

  Anna enjoyed the flicker of a smile. Even when it was right in front of her, she forgot the effect she had on some men. Of course, this one was young and might not have been with a woman yet. Anna thought she looked dreadful after such a rough night, but apparently, this boy didn’t.

  “Hey, you don't, you know,” the young man stammered. “Bed men. I mean, take tokens, anymore, do you?”

  “Nineteen lovely women work upstairs,” Anna said. “You can buy tokens at the bar.”

  “Thanks.” With a sheepish smile, he tipped his head and trotted off.

  Anna looked over the wanted poster and the lifelike drawing of Blake’s face. Though the art was based on a still photograph, the artist had captured the criminal’s taunting gaze. Two thousand five hundred dollars was the reward, dead or alive. Anna thought for a moment, then walked to Smullen’s.

  She rode to the local marshal post and hitched Espiritu. She mused how the local post had two jail cells, too few by several. Bateman sprang from his seat when Anna entered.

  “I'm not here to yell at you, Marshal Bateman. I want you to double the bounty. I'm paying the second two thousand five hundred.”

  “The feds are handling that. You should talk to them.” Bateman sat back down and looked at the papers on his desk, but his hands shook.

  “I know you’re working with them,” Anna said. “That means telling you is just as good, so you pass that news along. I assume that’s part of your job.”

  Frowning as though he had just swallowed a tablespoon of vinegar, he looked her in the eye, then nodded.

  When Anna arrived back at Amber Doves, she hurried to her room and fell backward into bed. The blankets puffed around her. After a moment, her tears returned and she closed her eyes, bracing herself against a new wave of grief.

  In her mind, she was a six-year-old again, sitting in her room with her dad. Lantern in hand, he bent down to kiss her cheek, his beard brushing her face.

  Tears running now, Anna sat up and reminded herself she had work to do. All was not lost, not even for him. Today, she and Jonny had set in motion a plan.

  At seven the next day, they would attend Creed’s funeral. She wanted to look her best and would take a good two and a half hours getting ready, but that was more than twenty-four hours away. Too upset to work at the bar, Anna went back down to the laboratory. She and Jonny had much to do, and she didn’t want to make a costly mistake. For the rest of the evening, she reread portions of several books, refreshing her knowledge of cell theory.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Santa Cruz Cemetery, a city burial ground shared by all local faiths, took up about sixteen acres. It had several dozen sycamore trees, nearly as many willows, and around four hundred grave stones. On July sixth, it gained three more.

  Though sad at the funerals for Nelsen and McClary, Anna shed few tears all day. Jonny came with her to each burial and held her hand. She wore her only black dress, drab and far simpler than any she wore in her parlor, and a dark brown spoon hat that shaded her face from the sun. Nelsen’s funeral had so far been the worst for her, with Heidi Nelsen and other members of her church shooting Anna critical looks.

  Creed’s service started at twilight, and Anna stood as close to the rectangular grave as allowed. To one side, diggers had dumped a huge pile of rich dirt. To the other sat Creed’s coffin, a white blanket displaying a burgundy cross draped over it. Ropes looped through the handles so the marshals from Monterey, along with Bateman and Stanley Ross, could lower it in.

  Anna set a bouquet of blood red dahlias at the foot of the grave, where many others had offered up roses, hydrangeas, and even dandelions. These last, tied in a bundle with a bit of twine, appeared as though a child had picked them.

  People from all over the city had gathered, from bankers to prostitutes, factory workers to vaqueros to elderly couples. Children stood by their parents in their best dresses and small suits, and while many fidgeted, some cried.

  James Creed had been a living legend. To some, he nearly reached the level of Johnny Appleseed, yet Creed stopped the most dangerous, evil outlaws.

  Shadows had grown long, stretching back from Anna as though light broke from just above the grave. She leaned her head against Jonny's shoulder. More tears came, trailing sideways down her face.

  Soon the preacher, who had been chatting off to the side with Mayor Cooper and his brother John, and the two U.S. marshals who had come for the funerals, patted the mayor on the shoulder and trudged to the casket. He went through the words Anna had heard twice already that day. The last death to greatly affect her had been her mother’s.

  Perhaps her uncle and aunt should have allowed her to attend her mother’s funeral. The fact she had missed it had started her wondering, even at age six, if religion was nonsense. What sort of god took a child’s parents away without allowing a farewell? A few years after they had moved, at the town library, she started to read about gravity, laws of motion, and biology. With the universe moving on its own, where did a god belong?

  So, Anna never prayed. If she wanted something to get done, she did it. Some of her accomplishments might look like miracles, but they all followed scientific principles. She p
lanned to perform another soon.

  Anna listened to the service, frowning.

  “This world, this Earth where we spend our mortal lives,” said the preacher, “is our testing ground. Are we, or are we not, worthy of Heaven? Marshal James Creed was a good man, a man who sought justice for all God's people, and a man of Christ.”

  She wondered how true that last part was. As a child, she had attended church with him and her mother on Sundays. Yet neither James nor Josefine talked much about Jesus, God, or the Holy Ghost, except when Anna would say, “God damn it!” Then, her mother would respond, “Don't take the Lord's name in vain.” She couldn't recall exactly, but it seemed that her father had ignored even that.

  As the preacher rambled, Anna looked around the crowd. Ott Smullen and Marjory were here. Anna had given the girl the evening off to attend this funeral with her father. A dozen of her doves had come, the rest having stayed back to mind the saloon. Heidi Nelsen stood at the other side of the casket, hair coming undone, sobbing exactly as she had at her husband’s funeral.

  “In the end of days,” said the preacher with a shake in his jowls, “Jesus will rise, and will raise the dead from their graves to give them new life.”

  At the end of the service, the marshals lowered the coffin with the ropes. Then they and Mayor Cooper each tossed a handful of dirt into the grave. The groundskeeper began to shovel in the rest. Much of the crowd dispersed, but some stayed back, either standing by the grave or talking.

  Mayor Cooper approached Anna and whispered in her ear, “I'm terribly sorry for your loss.” He shook her hand, and she held onto his for several moments before letting go.

  The full moon had risen over the horizon, lending the graveyard a ghostly glow. Anna squeezed Jonny’s hand. “We'd better get back.” They had left their horses behind and spent the day in the area. It would take about a half hour to walk back to Amber Doves.

  A hand pulled on Anna’s shoulder and she spun to face Heidi Nelsen. The widow’s eyes looked nearly crimson in the moonlight and beads of sweat shimmered on her forehead.

  “How dare you.” Heidi’s voice came out hoarse.

  Anna blinked. Did she hear that right? “How dare I come to a hero's funeral?”

  “Your display the other night was unseemly. It was wrong all around. How dare you run to James like that, like you knew him, like he was someone important to you.”

  “He was. Still is.” Anna said. “You were there?”

  “That’s none of your business!”

  Anna reached out to take her hand, but Heidi stepped away.

  “How did you know Marshal Creed?” Anna asked.

  Heidi's red eyes went wide. “He and Bennett, they worked together for two years in Dallas, where we used to live.” If that was it, then why the surprise? But Anna didn’t want to anger the woman further.

  “He saved me, a long time ago,” Anna lied. “When I was a child. No, I didn't know Marshal Creed as well as I would have wished, but yes, he was important to me.”

  Heidi’s shoulders lowered and her stare softened. Still, her face twitched, perhaps simply from anxiety, perhaps as thoughts did battle in her mind. Anna figured Heidi wanted to ask if she had serviced Creed in her brothel, a disgusting thought considering that he was her father, but Heidi didn't know that, nor did Anna want her to.

  “I don't know if it's important to you or not, but he never visited Amber Doves.”

  Heidi nodded curtly then strode away, across the grassy graveyard, without a goodbye.

  The full moon shined from above when Anna and Jonny returned to the cemetery at about one forty in the morning. A few years prior someone had stolen jewelry from the graves of several rich people, including a diamond necklace and gold watch. After that, Miles Morgan had paid for a wall to be built around the grounds with a high, spiked gate.

  Anna doubted the granite wall did much good. One man could easily stand on another's shoulders and drop to the other side. However, rumor had it that two giant schnauzers guarded the grounds.

  A breeze brought in a light mist and chill off the ocean, and the air smelled of salt and grass. The moonlight reflecting off the fog gave the impression of spirits set to rise. Jonny looked around nervously, and Anna patted his shoulder. “No such thing as ghosts. Don't you worry.”

  Jonny gave her a sardonic frown that communicated, “That’s not what worries me.”

  Anna turned and faced Zero. This steely, which she kept in the laboratory, resembled her two security automatons. However, Zero, while still part of the Auto Sapient line, stood a foot taller with a broader, more robust frame. Though not specifically built for security, it could protect them. Zero’s design was for blacksmithing, heavy lifting, assembling machinery, and simple medical procedures. Tonight, Zero carried a shovel, strapped to its back.

  At Amber Doves, they had changed into dark clothes, with Anna donning a black hat and serape. So dressed, she resembled the vaqueros that worked for some of the Santa Cruz ranches. Outside the cemetery, they hitched their horses, Espiritu and Cyclone, to a sycamore tree, and went to the wall where Zero waited, arms straight down at its sides.

  “All right. Up and over,” Anna said.

  Zero held a large hand low and Anna stepped onto it. The steely put its free hand around her hip to steady her, lifted her several feet higher. Anna sat on the wall while Zero helped Jonny up. The humans then dropped to the graveyard side.

  Zero climbed over, its wood and steel clinking and clanging. It pulled itself up, swung its legs over, and landed beside Anna.

  The madam cringed at the noise then waited, expecting the dogs to bark and attack them any second. Yet after a good twenty seconds, she heard no threats. The wind whistled through branches and the willows swayed like sleepy guardians.

  “Come on,” she said, and Jonny followed. Zero's parts banged, so Anna turned to the automaton. “Zero, quiet.”

  Its head turned to the left, then forward again. Anna continued, glad for the technology that dulled any noise Zero made.

  They marched up the hill to Creed’s grave and Anna removed a hand torch from under her serape, in case they needed the extra light. Jonny drew a specialized gun, armed with a tranquilizing formula should the rumored dogs approach. Anna smiled at this. She wore an identical gun on her hip.

  Anna felt no compunction about robbing her father’s grave. Fear, yes. How many people exhumed their parents? She knelt and placed her hand on the fresh dirt and smelled the mulch and minerals in the soil. How would he look? It had been about fifty-four hours since his passing. If the unit in his chest worked as well as she hoped, he may still seem close to lifelike.

  “Zero, dig here and take out the coffin when you get to it. Dig fast. Extract carefully.” She stood back as the automaton unstrapped the shovel and thrust the blade into the soil. Zero moved so quickly that after a minute, it had already dug a foot down.

  They had so much to do once they returned Creed’s body to the laboratory. Anna crossed her arms tightly and watched Zero work. In her mind, she went over the various parts they had set aside, how they may need to make modifications, and what could go wrong.

  Jonny dashed around the grave and pushed her to the ground. She hit the earth and he knelt beside her, arm around her, holding her to the earth.

  Zero dropped the shovel and leaped out of the grave to step past them.

  To the side, two dogs rushed toward her mechanical servant. It took a half second to realize these were not giant schnauzers at all, but skeletal canine steelies, as large as the dogs she had expected. They came from a line of Morgan’s Automatons guard dogs. She should have guessed. They, too, were nearly silent. If Jonny and Zero hadn't been there, they would have at least subdued Anna, and possibly mauled her to death.

  They leaped for the couple but Zero swooped in, fast for a model not specifically built for protection. Anna kept her gaze on the melee, where Zero held the dogs’ steel necks as they clawed at its arms and chest.

  The canine stee
lies screamed, a blend of screeching metal and a human wail. With a solid hit worthy of any master blacksmith or circus strongman, Zero crunched their heads together and dropped them.

  Next, Zero toppled, its head hitting the dirt pile. Jonny went to the steely and fished in his tool pouch. Anna stood. The dogs had damaged a panel on Zero's chest and severed internal wires. Jonny began separating and twisting together the various strands.

  “Someone will be coming, steelies or an armed guard.” Anna wished Jonny would nod, but he seemed too focused on repairing Zero. “Wait here.”

  Anna patted her tranquilizer gun. She wondered if she should have brought Lucky or Dixie, whose inner wires and switches were better protected, and which had been built for security, yet she wanted to keep this as secret as possible. Either of those two missing from the bar may have raised questions.

  Anna headed toward the grounds keeper's building near the back end of the cemetery. As a child, she had played hide-and-seek with her father. She moved from tree to tree, wishing she had a portable silencing device like the one Zero had built in, but no such technology existed for people.

  As she edged closer to the cabin a rustling came from her right, then, the syncopated cocking of a rifle. Anna knelt and looked toward the sounds. The grounds keeper, a broad-shouldered man, crept among the graves. As he passed a mausoleum, gripping his noisy firearm, Anna sprung up and dashed to its near side, a good fifty yards away.

  There she waited, her heart pounding in her ears, forcing herself to breathe slowly and quietly. She stepped toward the side, figuring he would be about twenty feet beyond, close enough for her to hit him with a dart. She stepped around the corner. Spotting him, she raised the pistol.

  The groundskeeper spun, rifle pointed toward her, and for an instant, Anna froze. She then thought of her father and pulled the trigger.