Coilhunter - A Science Fiction Western Adventure (A Coilhunter Chronicles Novel) (The Coilhunter Chronicles Book 1)

by Dean F. Wilson

   “Give it hell,” Nox said, joining her on the levers. They took one each, putting all their strength into it. The wheels screeched and the track wailed. The monsters made lots of horrible noises of their own. And still the hail of objects came, striking the sides of the cart or sailing over it as Nox and Sally bowed low.

   They could see the scooper cart real close now, almost close enough to feel the edge of the shovel lift them off the tracks. But they gave it hell, and sped past by a matter of inches, while the scooper caught the side of the drill cart and hauled it up off the tracks, sending it over the edge.

   The parallel tracks split apart, and the monsters fell back into the darkness, still hungry. Dinner was never so much hard work.

   Nox and Sally didn't take their sudden solitude for granted. They kept working the levers for what felt like hours, taking turns, barely getting much rest at all before they had to take it up again. Eventually, they saw the pinprick of light from the outside world and headed towards it. It was strange to curse that skin-sweltering sun before, and yet pray for it here—but as soon as they came out into the glow and glare of it again, the old curses came back with a vengeance. The old Coilhunter came back with a vengeance too.

  18 – THAT UNFORGIVIN' SUN

  Nox never did like the sun, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. His skin was already creased and cracked, and the brim of his hat only helped a little. The light got in everywhere, and the heat did too. You couldn't run from it, and you couldn't hide from it for long. It would be there, waiting for you the next day.

   They were barely out of the mines when the Coilhunter slung a line of rope around Sally's wrists again, though this time she was allowed to keep them in front of her.

   “So much for teamwork,” she said.

   He made a noose with another line of rope and hooked it over her neck, before tightening it. She coughed in protest.

   “Get used to it,” he said. “This ring of yarn might be the last thing you feel.”

   “Some men buy a gal a ring for her finger, y'know.”

   He tipped his hat to her. “I wouldn't hold out hope.”

   “It ain't always a drug. There's some real good here, even in the Wild North, beneath the sand.”

   He scoffed. “It's always a drug, 'specially the dreamy stuff.”

   They'd gone so far in the mines that they weren't sure where they'd come out. His monowheel was nowhere to be seen. He hammered the tracking device on his left wrist, but it was busted up right and proper. The Sparrows had taken a lot of his tools off him, leaving his belt a lot lighter than he liked it. His spare tools were in the monowheel.

   “We'll have to walk,” he said.

   “I gathered that.”

   Nox started off, with Sally in tow. He could've trusted her, maybe, but he'd spent his trust like he'd spent those bullets. That was one way the bad guys won. They made you doubt the good.

   It was about midday, which was when the sun was fiercest. People usually went inside then, and for a brief moment—an hour or two—the Wild North didn't seem so wild. The criminals needed their siestas too.

   “What made you like this?” Sally asked as she stumbled through the desert after him.

   He said nothing.

   “You don't just become someone like you.”

   He kept silent, wishing she would too. Some slung their tongues as fast as he hit the trigger. The Coilhunter wasn't much of a talker. He liked to keep things short and sweet, just like the lives of criminals. Well, the short bit anyway. Out here in the desert, the air was hard to come by, so for the most part he kept his breath for breathing. Hell, he kept a whole drum of it strapped to his back.

   “I need … to rest,” she said.

   “No.” He pulled her up as she began to slip down. “We need to keep going.” His own breath was laboured now. He barely had enough energy to move his own limbs, let alone drag hers.

   The heat haze made everything shimmer. The grit of the ground seemed to blur into the glimmers of the sky, until they weren't sure where they were walking, nor in what direction.

   “There's water!” Sally cried, though it was a hoarse cry. She pointed her bound hands ahead.

   He didn't see it. The cynicism in him helped against the illusions of the sun, as did a lot of experience. He'd ran to many mirages in the past, and there were no oases out there. If you drowned in the Wild North, you drowned in the desert. You'd be lucky if you got a sup of water at all.

   “Here's your oasis,” he said, tossing her his water canister. It was hot from the sun, and there wasn't much left in it, but she gulped it down all the same. She didn't have the energy to throw it back to him.

   “We're going to die out here,” she said. She might have cried if she could afford the tears.

   “Maybe your ghost can bury us somewhere no one'll find us.”

   She said nothing. Maybe she had a conscience after all. That was rarer than water out here.

   They staggered onwards, down the dip of dunes, struggling up others. The sun creaked along the tracks of the sky slowly, burning one side of them before moving on to the other, making sure they were nice and crisp all over. Maybe the monsters'd come back and find them cooked.

   When the day started to wane, and Sally stopped asking questions about his past, they could see a faint red glow on the horizon which wasn't the setting sun.

   “What's that?” Sally asked. “Can you see it? Is it another mirage?”

   “I can see it,” he said. “That ain't no mirage. That's the Ruby District.”

   “Well, I hope you kept your coils, Coilhunter, because that'll be as dried up to us as the desert is without 'em.”

   “Not to me, it won't,” he said. “But don't you worry, Handcart Sally.” He rattled his pocket, where the coils clinked together. “That's our real oasis ahead.”

  19 – THE RUBY DISTRICT

  The Ruby District was one of the more welcoming parts of the Wild North—if you had coils to spare. If you didn't, well, it just didn't exist. You'd see it like a red haze on the horizon, and you'd never get far enough to see the hue up close. If you were lucky, you'd overhear a tale or two in one of the saloons. If you were really lucky, you got to tell them too.

   It was run by Ruby Down, an enterprising woman who came out into the wild long before many others, and staked her claim to these parts. She promised other enterprising women a world of opportunity, though most of the opportunity was for herself. She advertised her little kingdom as a land of opportunity for everyone else, so long as you came loaded, and left empty. Some of those cowboys telling tales across bars were getting paid by her—though not always with money.

   The Ruby District was a paradise for many, with all the sin of Hell mixed with the ecstasies of Heaven. There was little you couldn't buy there, and no dream or pleasure Ruby Down wouldn't procure. She charged high and paid well, but while you were enjoying your own naughty pleasures, someone else was enjoying something you didn't quite like next door. But most people turned a blind eye to that. Both eyes were usually pretty busy staring at something else.

   Nox hauled Sally into the makeshift town, with all its red canopies and lampshades. He got a look or two from a few of the locals, who spotted Sally's bonds and smiled. Nox quickly realised that maybe that sent the wrong signal. Sally was having her bonds cut a lot lately. It wasn't like him. Then again, it wasn't every day he got a clue to his family's killer.

   He ushered Sally ahead of him now, watching for a quick move. She was so exhausted she could barely move at all, and he had to catch her once or twice. A group of scantily-clad women frolicked over with lemon water. That was ecstasy enough for the thirsty.

   Once they'd gained a bit of composure, Nox led Sally into the main building, where the District's proprietor could always be found, come rain or shine. Well, come shine anyway.

   Ruby Down. What could you say about her? Quite a bit, i
f she'd let you. She'd been around a while, long enough for the colour in her hair to fade. They might have been grey locks, but they were thick and bushy still, and the lace of jewels she wore over it gave it all the colour it needed. Her face was worn, like most faces, but it had gained a kind of authoritative definition, like the craggy outcrops of the desert canyons. They didn't just communicate age, but said: here we've stood the test of time, and will stand forever more. She was plump, having abandoned the hard labour and sweat of her youth for the luxury of life in the Ruby District. She smoked heavily, and drank heavily. There wasn't much she did in small measures. “Go big or go home” could have been her motto, if she had any time for mottoes.

   “Well, well, well,” she said, her voice equal parts allure and the hoarseness of age and cigarette.

   Nox tipped his hat to her. “Howdy.”

   “I've not seen you in quite a while.” She flicked through her desk calendar, but he wasn't on any of that year's dates.

   “I've been busy.”

   “So I heard. You're working up quite an enterprise at the Bounty Booth. Giving me a run for my money, even.” She paused, then tapped a giant signet ring off the table. “Killing off some of my customers too.”

   “If I killed 'em, they deserved to die,” Nox croaked.

   “You know me. I don't go in for moralising. One man's crime is another man's pleasure. That's how it works in the Ruby District. You know the rules, Nox. You leave those man-made laws at the door.”

   “I know the rules,” the Coilhunter said. “Those Ruby-made rules, little laws of their own.”

   She ignored him, turning her attention to Sally. “Now, you're a specimen! Lookin' for work, girl? You'd fetch a fair price in here.”

   “She's already got a job,” Nox said.

   “And someone to speak for her, it seems.”

   “I can speak fine for myself,” Sally said. “I'm just … passin' through.”

   Ruby laughed boisterously. “Everyone's just passing through, girl. Sure, isn't that the nature of life, itself? It's what you do while you're passing that's of interest here. Or maybe … maybe you're looking for a little something yourself? We've got all types for all types. You name it, we have it—or we'll find it for you.”

   Sally looked around awkwardly at some of the “walking merchandise” on display. There certainly were a mix of types there, though Ruby kept some of the more “exotic” interests in different rooms.

   “I'm good,” Sally said.

   Ruby chuckled. “There's nothing good about you. I can see that plain. I'd even peg you as one of Nox's poster girls if you weren't still standing. You've got the look of trouble about you. Well, girl, there won't be any trouble here, you mark my words.” She slapped her hand down on the table hard and it rocked from the force. “Or I'll mark something else.”

   “Don't you worry about her,” Nox said. “I'll take care of her.”

   Ruby raised an eyebrow. “You do what you want, but the only bangs I want to hear are the sounds of bedposts against the wall. You can leave the pistols with me.”

   Nox took a little pouch from his belt and placed it on the table. “One hundred coils. Well, it might be a few short, what with the road not being a road and all.”

   Ruby emptied the bag out and started sorting the pieces into wholes, halves, and quarters. She had an efficiency about her, like pistons pumping. The patrons came for all sorts, but counting coils was one of her little pleasures.

   “We need somewhere to sleep,” Nox said, “and I mean sleep.”

   “You could live here for a month on this.”

   “I only need a night. But I need supplies too. Stuff for the road.”

   “The Coilhunter with no supplies? Now, there's a sight. You must have left in a hurry. Why didn't you get them at the Burg? They'd be cheaper there, even with the tax.”

   Nox looked at Sally. “I was preoccupied.”

   Ruby scooped away each stack of coils. “Well, you'll need to tell me what you need. I've got limited supplies here too. The Dust Barons have upped the taxes, so I've been trying to get some from Blackout, but there are muggers on the road south, so I lose a lot there too.”

   “I'll see to the muggers in time,” Nox said. He took a piece of paper out and handed it to Ruby.

   “This is all you want? For a hundred coils?”

   “I ain't lookin' for much here. What I'm lookin' for is out there in the desert.”

   “Whatever you say, Nox.”

   “And the extra coils. Well, they're to let me keep my guns.”

   She rolled her eyes, as if she expected him to say that. “If you keep them holstered.”

   “If those are the rules,” he said.

   “They are.”

   “Then you know me.”

   “Yes,” she said, smiling. “Isn't that the problem?”

   “Depends who you are.”

   “Maybe keep them more than holstered. Wrap them up. Put a skirt on or something. Guns don't go down well here. They spook the guests. Then again, you spook them too.”

   Nox smiled behind his mask. “Good.”

   He turned to leave, but Sally loitered for a moment.

   “Ruby,” she said.

   “Yes, girl? You changed your mind about something?”

   “No. Well … yes. I'm looking for a woman.”

   “I knew it!” Ruby said, turning to Nox. “I can peg them from a mile away.” She hoisted herself up and ambled over to a chest of drawers, from which she pulled a giant folder full of drawings and black and white photographs, with names and attributes, and sexual likes and dislikes. She plopped it on the table. There wasn't a speck of dust that came from them. They had been well rifled through at this stage.

   “Now,” Ruby said. “You have a look through those and see if there's any who meet your fancy. That's not all of them, mind you, as we have a few new ones who aren't on the books yet. We're giving them a trial run.”

   Sally paused. “Can I see the new ones?”

   Ruby's eyes widened. “She knows what she wants, this one!”

   She hobbled off again, clapping her hands together, as if she considered herself the desert's matchmaker. In a way, she was—though the matches didn't last for long.

   “What are you doing?” Nox whispered to Sally.

   “Just … blending in. You should try it.”

   Nox raised his eyebrows. “I blend in fine.”

   Sally tapped her hand against either side of his mask. “You keep tellin' yourself that, hun.”

   “Here we go!” Ruby erupted. She led them through into another room, yelling for “Ulla!” repeatedly, until a very thin woman, almost the mirror image of Ruby, came down the stairs.

   “What's all this yellin' about?” she asked.

   “Get us the newbies, will you, love? The girls, that is.”

   “The women,” Sally interjected. “Only the women.”

   “Some of 'em are indisposed, so they are,” Ulla said, yawning mid-sentence.

   “Well, get the ones who aren't!” Ruby shouted. “We've got some special guests tonight.”

   Ulla went away, leaving the three of them standing in the room below. Nox looked awkwardly at the other two, while Sally feigned a smile. Ruby was the embodiment of excitement, pacing too and fro, rubbing her hands together briskly, periodically exclaiming “oooh!” and “wait till you see them!”

   Eventually, Ulla returned, leading a train of women behind her. There were eleven in total, some pale, others with dark skin, some tall, others short. If Sally had really been looking for a companion for the night, she had a good mix to choose from. But she was looking for someone specific. And there, second from the last, she was.

   “Her,” Sally said, pointing to one that went by the name of Amber, a brown-haired, blue-eyed woman, barely more than nineteen. She was a little shorter than Sal
ly, and a little slighter too, with a bunch of freckles on her nose and cheeks, but if you had put them side-by-side, you might've sworn they were sisters.

   “A fine choice,” Ruby said. “Though you're all fine choices.” She turned to Nox. “Are you sure you don't want one for yourself?”

   “No.”

   “Two?”

   “No.”

   “You can have the lot at a discount, if you want to make the most of it. One night and all.”

   Nox walked off.

   “Suit yourself.”

   If Nox had suited himself, he wouldn't even be there. He'd be digging up Waltman, and burying someone else in his place.

  20 – NOT EVERYONE WANTS A SAVIOUR

  Nox headed upstairs to his room, ignoring the moans and screams of ecstasy from the closed doors he passed. Then he heard a different kind of scream, the shrill sound of pain. He halted, the echoes of his footfalls drowned out by the cries of a woman, and the sound of striking flesh.

   “Move on,” Sally told him.

   When the woman screamed again, he could no longer ignore it. He burst through the door, charging in. Only his promise to Ruby made him keep his guns sheathed, and it was a battle of wills to fight the reflex of the draw. He hauled a large man off the screaming woman, whose face was bruised and bloodied, and soaked with tears. The man was taken aback, surprised that anyone would dare interfere in this sacred place of debauchery. He was even more surprised that he was faced with someone who would fight back.

   It took a single well-aimed blow to the chin to fell the man and leave him slumped on the floor. He'd have to finish his fantasies in his dreams.

   Nox extended a hand to the woman.

   “What've you done?” she asked, recoiling from him. “Why did you do that?”

   Nox hesitated. “I … was trying to save you.”

   Her bloodshot eyes widened. “Save me? Not everyone wants a saviour!” She got up, clutching the bedsheets around her naked body. “Oh God. Now he'll never pay!”