Billie the Kid: The Sky Fire Chronicles Book 1

by Paul Summerhayes

  Carter paled. “You crazy bitch!” He spurred his horse forward, throwing dust into the air as he quickly caught up with Bartlett and the others. The drifter glanced back over his shoulder at Pat and she gave him a wave. He faced forward again.

  That was just too easy, she thought as she surveyed the surrounding land. Has Billie got a gift? It would explain how she survived against those monsters…

  Joseph had been motionless for hours on top of his bedroll and his pale face was covered in sweat. His eyes were closed as Billie gingerly touched his forehead and swore. He was burning up. She dampened a cloth from a canteen and laid it gently over his forehead.

  His leg bandage was dark with blood and she peeled back its edge carefully. The flesh beneath was swollen and inflamed and a clear liquid oozed from the ragged claw wounds which ran down his battered skin. She had never seen a wound like it and wasn’t sure what to do. As the youngest in her family, everyone had always looked after her, not the other way round.

  “Hold on, Joey,” she said softly as she looked in both directions of the gully. Come on, Pat. Please come back…

  She mopped his brow and cheeks with the damp cloth and felt his skin again. It made little difference. The midday heat was stifling and no doubt adding to his high temperature. How long he could endure these conditions, she didn’t know. But his time was clearly running out.

  “Billie Bonney,” she said to herself. “You have no choice, you have to do something now.” But what?

  Billie took a swig of water from a canteen, corked it and placed it beside her brother’s hand. She leaned down near Joseph’s face—his breathing didn’t sound good. His breaths were shallow and labored. Removing the cloth from his forehead, she laid it completely over his face. Hopefully, it would help keep the dust out of his lungs and cool the air he breathed. It was all she could do.

  Billie put on her father’s old tattered hat and grabbing her revolver, she scrambled out of the shelter and up the gully bank on all fours. Heat shimmered off the land as she surveyed the barren landscape in all directions. There were no signs of life.

  She was completely alone.

  The only thing that broke the flat, rubble-filled landscape was a small rocky mound, a hundred yards away. It must have been at least ten yards high and offered a better vantage point of the surrounding land.

  I might see something from up there.

  Billie glanced back at Joey under the blanket-tent. He hadn’t moved.

  Joey, I’ll be back soon.

  She turned from him, making way across the open land toward the mound. Unlike the sandy gully, the land here was rough going and consisted not of soil but of loose rocks, stacked on each other. Her progress was slow. The last thing she wanted was to twist an ankle.

  The mound loomed above her. It was actually a small hill made of large boulders of irregular shapes and sizes, all stacked on one other.

  Looks easy enough to climb.

  It took Billie only a minute or two to scale her way easily to the top, where she surveyed the land. There was nothing but an endless sea of rocks stretching out in all directions. In the north, the ground shimmered from the heat, looking like a large body of water. Out of this mirage, the wind stirred a column of dust into the air like a miniature twister.

  Riders!

  Helpless, Billie watched the dust cloud billowing behind several shapes as they sped across the open desert, before disappearing from sight into the dry gully. She shielded her eyes with a hand, hoping to catch another glimpse of them. Who are they? It didn’t matter. Out here, they would only be mutants or criminals.

  Joey!

  On their current path, the horsemen would travel directly past Joey. Without hesitation, Billie scrambled over the rocks and down the side of the mound as quickly as she could. Her heart pounded in her chest as she pumped her arms, sprinting across the loose rocks toward her brother as quickly as she could.

  Don’t fall.

  On the flat ground she couldn’t see the riders, but their dust cloud travelled south along the gully at a fast pace.

  Somehow Billie had reached the gully without tripping and slid down the bank, crashing onto the sandy floor. Without hesitating, she jumped up and sprinted through the remnants of the dust cloud left by the horsemen and headed toward where she left Joseph.

  Half blind, Billie tripped on something and crashed to a stop. Frantically she peered through the haze, trying to get her bearings. The dust filled her nose and mouth, causing her to cough. Ahead, she spotted a square outline that could only be the makeshift tent and she moved toward it.

  The tent was empty. Her brother was gone!

  “No!” Billie clenched her fists and dropped to her knees. “Why?” she pleaded, striking her leg in frustration. “No, no…”

  Moments later, Billie stood and wiped her tears from her dirty face with the back of her hand. I have to get him back. What choice did she have?

  Billie pulled the revolver and checked it was loaded. She tucked in back in her belt and ran along the gully after the horsemen, following their dust cloud which still hung in the air. But after only a short distance, she slowed and came to a stop.

  Water!

  Running back to the camp, Billie grabbed the hessian sack holding their supplies. There was no time to check what it contained. She needed to follow the horsemen’s trail while it was still fresh.

  Her vision blurred with unfallen tears as she sprinted along the gully.

  I’m coming, Joey!

  Chapter 12

  Tommy tracked the kidnappers across the desert from horseback. Their quarry’s trail was clear and undisturbed by the wind. In fact, the further they travelled into the wasteland, the stiller the air seemed to become. The tracker rode ahead of the rest, who followed in single file.

  Pat brought up the rear of their convoy, watching the passing landscape with only fleeting interest. It all looked the same to her and she knew nothing would escape Tommy’s attention. Besides, she was a city girl, what did she know about the wasteland? Only what she learned in the Agency’s recruit training—that nothing could live out here long and remain unchanged.

  The three marshals made an odd team and made her wonder how the Agency chose their people. By their gifts, or personalities, or the willingness to follow orders? Who knew? No doubt their superiors thought the three of them would work well together and by the results of their earlier mission, they were right.

  Roberts was a natural leader and one of the highest ranking active field agents. He was a retired officer—a forced retirement from what Tommy told her, but the Native wouldn’t say any more. The old man was a cunning tactician and at the Academy he had a reputation of always remaining two steps in front of his opponents—he was a hard man to catch flat-footed. His heightened hearing and sight were uncanny. She heard a rumor his gifts manifested late in life—most received their gifts as teenagers, but not all. Adults that mutated usually went mad.

  This was Pat’s second mission. Their first mission sounded simple and the Agency’s head, Senator Peterson, smiled during that briefing. Pat later understood that was his sign of having a private joke with Roberts.

  Agents often described Peterson as the Agency’s biggest asshole and in her experience, it seemed like an accurate assessment. During that first briefing, Peterson failed to mention that the local schoolmistress was the leader of a mutant cult. A fact they had to discover for themselves—but only after they found themselves trapped inside the schoolhouse surrounded by a mob of angry cultists. Then from nowhere, Roberts produced sticks of dynamite and started tossing them out windows, blowing up the school and the cult. What sane person carried dynamite on his person? Roberts apparently.

  As unpredictable as Roberts was, Tommy Red Hawk was unreadable. The big Native rarely spoke and showed little emotion. It was odd, the tracker always knew what Roberts wanted, seeming to have a nonverbal link with Roberts. He always knew what to do. I guess that’s what happens when you work with someone for
that long.

  Pat was the new person on the team and Roberts often referred to her as the ‘trainee.’ She didn’t mind as she had only known them both for a few weeks. Pat had hoped this case wouldn’t be as dangerous as investigating a school teacher but she didn’t hold much hope of that now. Chasing mutants into the wasteland was definitely going to be hazardous. What did Carter say? That Billie fired lightning from her eyes? She looked at the drifter’s back and shook her head. Billie’s just a kid, but she’s about the right age for a gift to manifest… Is that the only way she could have killed those bat-creatures by herself? There’s more to Billie’s story and I’m curious to find out what.

  Up ahead, Tommy reined in his horse and Roberts halted the convoy by raising his hand. Pat reined in beside Sheriff Bartlett and Carter as Roberts rode forward toward Tommy. She glanced around, resisting the temptation to pull her carbine from its saddle holster. She felt exposed in the open and a side glance at her two companions showed they did, too. Bartlett watched the land and Carter rested a hand lightly on a sword hilt—his eyes met hers.

  What are you looking at? Pat drew her carbine in a smooth action and rested its wooden stock on her hip. She returned the man’s stare. Come on then, your move.

  Carter got the message and took his hand off his sword, his gaze returning to the men up ahead. By now Roberts had levelled with Tommy and was speaking to him. The tracker didn’t respond that Pat could tell, but he pointed south. There was nothing but desert in the direction he indicated. Both men dismounted and hobbled their horses. Without drawing their weapons, they crept forward where they crouched behind a small outcrop of rocks.

  “What are they looking at?” asked Bartlett.

  “I hope it’s a saloon,” said Carter.

  “Shut it, fool.”

  “Relax, Sheriff, I was just joking.”

  “Look where we are. This is not a joke.”

  Carter grinned at Pat and shrugged.

  Yeah. He’s a moron.

  Roberts moved back to the hobbled horses and untied them, leading them in and out of the rocky terrain back to where Pat and the two Deepwell men waited. “The mutants’ tracks lead into a canyon over yonder,” said Roberts, pointing south. “There’s a cave at its center…and it’s my guess that’s their hideout.” A cave? The old marshal was holding something back. But what?

  “We’ll move further around the canyon to the west and wait for nightfall,” said Roberts. “It’s too open down there to approach in daylight.”

  “Lead on,” replied Bartlett. Roberts ordered everyone to dismount and they led their horses a few hundred yards to the west where they secured them behind a few large boulders. Drawing weapons, they followed the old marshal back across the rocky ground to the canyon’s edge, where they stopped beside Tommy.

  Bartlett let out a low whistle.

  “What the hell?” asked Carter, wide-eyed. Crouching on the canyon’s edge, they gazed out over a bowl-shaped depression in the ground. The canyon must have been a few miles wide and at least one hundred yards deep at its center. Its sides were gently sloped and both its sides and bottom were smooth—it wasn’t natural. It was as if a giant had spooned out a large chunk of ground and just thrown it away. The canyon, like the surrounding land, was devoid of any vegetation or signs of life. Pat suppressed a shudder as her sight wandered over the canyon. How is this possible? Roberts handed her his brass spyglass and she extended its tube and looked where he pointed. In the center of the canyon was a dark wound-like hole leading into the earth. It was a cave of sorts. If it was natural, she couldn’t tell. A scan of the surrounding land relieved nothing else of interest. There were no signs of the men they followed so she passed the spyglass to Bartlett.

  “There’s nothing there,” said Pat.

  “Their tracks lead down there,” replied Roberts. “They’re there all right. And I'm going down there for the Stein boy.”

  “N-no,” stammered Carter. “This…it ain’t natural.”

  “Yeah,” said Roberts, accepting his spyglass back, returning it back inside his coat. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  Just before sunset, three horsemen rode out of the north and along the trail leading into the canyon. The horsemen rode within a hundred yards of where Pat and the others were hiding. After they passed, Roberts followed the horsemen’s progress with his spyglass, watching them weave their way down the canyon’s side.

  “Shit.” Roberts handed Pat the spyglass. She looked into the eyepiece and focused on the horsemen. They were dressed as most that lived near the wasteland and carried both swords and guns. Pat held her breath. It wasn’t their weapons that drew her attention, the last man carried a limp person in front of him on the saddle. For a moment Pat thought it was Billie, but realized it was her brother, Joseph.

  “Darling, give me a look,” Carter said and Pat passed him the spyglass. “Shit, that boy’s in trouble,” said the scruffy man. “I reckon they’re gunna eat him.”

  “Shut your trap, Carter,” Bartlett snapped. “You’re not helping.”

  “Where’s Billie?” asked Pat. She looked the way horsemen had come.

  “That kid’s just too skinny to eat,” replied Carter. “They probably had their fun and killed her.” Without thinking, Pat drew her Peacemaker revolver in a fluid motion, pointing it at Carter’s forehead. The man paled and slowly raised his hands, trying to show bravado, but failing. Pat tensed her finger on the trigger.

  “I, was just, trying to…” said Carter hesitantly.

  “Stand down, Garrett,” said Roberts. “This fool ain’t your enemy today.”

  “Yes, sir.” Pat aimed her gun for a few more seconds before she uncocked it and re-holstered it. Carter looked relieved, but he didn’t look impressed with having a gun pulled on him, again. Pat’s attention returned to the three riders as they reached the canyon’s bottom. They were headed toward the cave at the center. The light was fading fast and by the time the riders reached the cave entrance, it was almost dark. They stopped at the cave mouth, which was not much higher than the horses’ heads. They dismounted and one man took the horses. A thick set man, who would have been much taller if it wasn’t for his curved posture, lifted Joseph down from the horse and threw him effortlessly over his shoulder. The big man carried Joseph into the cave and disappeared. He was followed by the man leading the horses. The last man stood in the cave mouth and surveyed the growing darkness before he, too, stepped inside the cave. The posse waited and watched in silence for some time before a deep voice spoke from the growing darkness. “What now, Boss?” asked Tommy.

  “We sit tight,” said Roberts. “And in a few hours, we’ll go in for a closer look.”

  Chapter 13

  The darkness surrounded Billie, her footsteps sounding loud as she skidded on the loose stones under her feet. Before nightfall, she had lined up a distant hill and headed toward it, praying it was south.

  She felt sure she was now lost.

  As she travelled, the night air felt heavy, as though it was waited for something bad to happen. At the corner of her vision, shapes moved in the darkness, but when she turned, there was nothing there. Just my imagination, she kept telling herself, but it didn’t stop her from twitching at the slightest sound. Just animals, she hoped. Then something heavy would crash in the distance, forcing her to draw her revolver. What exactly made the sounds she couldn’t guess, but nothing attacked her.

  Exhausted, Billie halted and dropped to the ground, slumping against an old tree stump. She removed her hat, feeling the night air cool the perspiration on her forehead and giving her some minor relief. She glared into the darkness, listening for the smallest sound. Time ticked by, but nothing revealed itself.

  She removed the lid from her canteen and gulped down a mouthful of water. The small amount barely satisfied her thirst, but she knew the water needed to last. After shaking the canteen, she returned it to the bag.

  Keep going, she thought. I must keep going.

 
; She willed herself to stand and plodded forward again, praying she was headed in the right direction.

  “It’s time,” Roberts said, standing and shouldering a canvas bag.

  There had been no movement at the cave entrance since the men entered several hours earlier. Pat could feel the surrounding restlessness. Everyone wanted this to end and she, too, would be happy to be moving again—although she felt a foreboding sense of what was to come.

  With his tomahawk in hand, Tommy moved down into the canyon. He slid a few feet on the loose gravel, but remained upright. Roberts drew his sword and revolver and followed his Native friend. He, too, sent small stones rolling down the gentle slope. The two marshals were closely followed by Bartlett who carried his repeating rifle. Carter was next, with a short sword in each hand. Pat was last, bringing up the rear with her carbine.

  If they have any sentries, they’ll hear us coming.

  Strung out so they weren’t easy targets, they made their way across the canyon floor toward the cave entrance. The canyon was devoid of any cover and they were reliant on the darkness to hide their approach. Still, Pat felt exposed crossing the flat ground and hoped the mutants didn’t have Roberts’ heightened senses.

  They had gone little more than a hundred yards when a loud screech broke the stillness of the night. The loud high-pitched sound came from the sky and it sounded like nothing she had ever heard before. All eyes turned skyward, but there was nothing except the stars.

  After several long moments, Roberts pointed at the sky. “There!” he said. Pat and the others looked, but she couldn’t see anything. “It flies south,” he said and resumed walking toward the cave. He didn’t seem too concerned.

  What was it? Flying monsters?