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

Page 14

by Dean F. Wilson


   The Coilhunter's silhouette drew in close, leaning down to him. Now he knew where the stories came from, why so many criminals woke in the black of night, pointing pistols at the shadows of the wall.

   “What do you want?” Blood Johnson yelped.

   The figure didn't move. It didn't say anything. It let the fear fester, the horror linger.

   “Please,” Blood Johnson begged. “Let me go. I'll … I'll pay you a fortune.”

   Still the black shape perched there in the vast whiteness of his blurred and burned vision. Maybe only the rising sun would scare away the shadow. He knew too well that the night had only started, that the nightmare had just begun.

   “I've come,” the Coilhunter rasped, “to pay a debt.” How many horrors had spoken with that voice in the restless sleep of the wrong? How many had heard that grit, like the voice of the desert itself, seeking retribution?

   The Coilhunter's gloved hand came in, holding something. Blood Johnson clenched every muscle in his body involuntarily. That something could've been anything. Knowing the rumours, it might even have been a clockwork butterfly.

   It wasn't.

   He felt the cold metal, the round edges.

   It was a bullet.

   “The debt was in iron,” the Coilhunter croaked, “but I'm payin' it in lead.”

   Blood Johnson trembled.

   “Well,” the Coilhunter said, “scram.”

   Blood Johnson rolled onto his belly and wormed away. The bullet rolled to the ground and span there for a moment.

   “Wait,” Nox said.

   Blood Johnson froze.

   “Don't forget your payment.”

   The ganglord shimmied over on his elbows, feeling around on the ground for the little nugget of lead. He scurried away on his hands and knees, out the front door into the safety of the night, where his men had already vanished. All the while as he fled, he tried not to look back, not to that towering shadow, not to the gunslinger, the lawmaker, the Coilhunter.

  44 – WHAT'LL YOU DO?

  “Thanks,” Handcart Sally said.

   She rubbed her reddened wrists as the bonds were cut, then pulled down the blackened goggles the Coilhunter had placed over her eyes before the light blast. He was still wearing his. He almost didn't look human with those and the mask on. Maybe that was the point. Maybe they weren't just practical.

   “Told ya you didn't need to worry.”

   “Well,” she said. “You were cuttin' it pretty close there.”

   He smirked. “Better to let them think they're almost gettin' away with it, then make 'em realise they never truly can.”

   “You let him go though.”

   “Did I?”

   “Sure looked like it.”

   “But now he's in a prison of the mind. He's had a hauntin'. He'll spread the word, make others like him afraid. When a big man trembles, all the little men take heed.”

   “I hope you're right.”

   “I'm just using their weapon against 'em. Fear.”

   “What about your own mission? Did you get 'em?”

   “I got 'em good.”

   He turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm.

   “Wait,” she said. “Why don't you … stay?”

   “I can't.”

   “Why not?”

   “I'm just a wanderer.” He thought of little Aaron, wild wanderer.

   “You don't have to be alone, y'know.”

   He sighed. “I do.”

   “It seems to me you're not just punishing criminals. You're punishing yourself.”

   “Well, there ain't no saints out here.”

   “We ain't all sinners either.”

   “Oh, we are, in one way or another. I think we have to be to live here.”

   “Now that you've completed your mission,” Sally said, “what'll you do?”

   “Oh, I've only completed part of it.”

   “The nasty part?”

   The Coilhunter smiled beneath his mask. “There's some nasty parts to come. Ya see, this here world's got a disease.”

   “And you're the cure?”

   “No,” Nox said, pulling out a pistol and cocking the trigger. “This is.”

   “You can't put them all out to pasture.”

   “There ain't no pastures to put 'em in. But there's ground. Plenty o' that.”

   “It won't fulfil you, y'know.”

   “It doesn't have to.”

   “It won't make you happy.”

   “Maybe not, but it'll make some people happy. It'll save some lives. It'll make this world a safer place.”

   Sally smiled. “With you in it?”

   “For the good people, yeah. For the conmen and the criminals, there ain't no such thing as 'safe' any more. Doesn't matter where they hide, or for how long. I'm comin' for 'em. Sooner or later. Sure as that damn sun rises, as there's dust in the desert.” He paused. “What'll you do? Now that you're free.”

   She rubbed her wrists again. “I dunno. Could do burial work for bounty hunters.”

   He said nothing, but his eyes said it all.

   “Sorry.” She paused. “I guess there's always the Ruby District.”

   “You ain't workin' there.”

   “What, you care?”

   “There's one too many o' the Hays sisters turnin' tricks already.”

   “It's a fallback.”

   “It's another prison.”

   “A prison that pays.”

   “You can aim higher than that.”

   She grabbed the buckle of her belt with both hands. “I guess I always wanted to look after horses.”

   Nox raised an eyebrow. “Horsetamer Sally.”

   “A girl can dream.”

   “A girl can do anything she wants.” He turned, halted, then looked back. “Just … you know, keep off those Wanted posters.”

   He walked off into the sunset, into that glaring red globe, as if he was coming for it too. His silhouette stood out starkly against the red aura, a black, intimidating shape. It was the same shape the criminals had grown to dread, that many saw in their nightmares, and many more saw in the terrors of the day.

  The Coilhunter Chronicles continue with Rustkiller, coming Autumn 2017.

  Pre-order your copy now.

  Join Dean F. Wilson's VIP mailing list to find out when this book releases, in addition to other new release details, special offers, and exclusive promotions. To join, visit:

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