The hairs rose on the back of Pat’s neck and she shivered. Something was watching them. She could feel it. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked back the way they had come. There was nothing there, but she still felt uneasy. I don’t like this. Her gun constantly moved as she scanned the darkness.
After what seemed like forever, they finally arrived at the cave’s dark entrance. It was just over two yards high and several yards wide. The cave sloped gently into the ground and didn’t look like it would be too difficult to navigate.
Tommy bent down and examined the ground, feeling the dirt with his free hand. He stood, staring into the hole. “Bad spirits here.” He wouldn’t say any more.
“That’s great,” said Carter. “Our guide is yella—”
“Hold your tongue,” snapped Bartlett. “I…feel it, too.”
And so do I.
Something wasn’t right. The dark tunnel felt ominous—as though something bad was lurking there. It was like looking into a bear’s den—when you knew the bear was still at home.
Pat tightened her grip on the carbine.
“I’ll go first with Tommy,” said Roberts. “The rest of you follow.”
What’s down there? Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
The old marshal holstered his revolver and removed a small miner’s lamp from his bag. He struck a match along the side of his boot and lit the lamp. Roberts stepped into the tunnel holding his sword in one hand and the lamp in the other.
To Pat, the yellow lamplight seemed to struggle to push back the tunnel’s darkness. It’s just my imagination…
Drawing his long knife and his tomahawk, Tommy followed his boss into the tunnel. Bartlett was next with his repeating rifle, followed by Carter with his two swords. The drifter looked scared. Pat didn’t blame him, she could feel her dread building, too.
At the cave mouth Pat hesitated, looking back across the canyon. A chill ran up her spine and she shuddered. Reluctantly, she turned from the night and entered the tunnel, resting her finger on the carbine’s trigger.
The five travelled down the tunnel, their footsteps echoing off the tunnel’s walls. Their path angled ever downward. The tunnel’s surfaces were flat and smooth, evidence they were constructed and not natural. For what purpose, Pat couldn’t tell.
It would’ve taken many men to dig this, thought Pat. An army?
Not interested in the tunnel’s construction, Roberts set a steady pace. There was no denying the old marshal was a cold, hard man and Pat had wondered if this was due to his gifts or his experiences in the war. No doubt as an army officer and now a government agent hunting mutants and monsters, he had seen more than his fair share of horrors and bloodshed. The things Pat had witnessed in the last month were enough to give most sane people nightmares.
Pat couldn’t remember a full night’s sleep since the school house incident—shit! She stumbled into Carter’s back and almost discharged her weapon. The drifter and everyone else had stopped. “Watch it,” Carter said.
“Sorry.”
There was a light up ahead.
“Quiet,” said Roberts. “Is everyone ready?”
Pat’s mouth was dry and she could only nod. There was a murmur from the others. Pat wiped the sweat from her top lip, suddenly conscious of how warm it was in the tunnel. Just nerves, she told herself.
“Tommy and Carter, up front with me. We’ll look after the close in fighting,” said Roberts. “Bartlett and Garrett, keep us covered. Don’t shoot unless you have to. I don’t want you to telegraph our presence. And for Christ’s sake, don’t shoot me in the back.”
Roberts turned down and extinguished the lamp, returning it to his bag. They continued on, the three men in front were silhouetted against the light ahead. The tunnel was longer than it appeared, but eventually Pat could see the tunnel opening into what looked like a larger chamber.
With a raise of his hand, the old marshal stopped their advance. Tommy crept forward without being ordered to. He bent low, his weapons at ready for whatever he might meet. Roberts indicated that they would wait.
The lengthening silence grated on Pat’s nerves and she wiped her sweaty trigger hand on her trousers. She shouldered her carbine and leaned against the tunnel wall, slowing her breathing as she was taught in the academy. She aimed past her companions, waiting for something to appear in her sights.
Pat felt a slight tremor going through the wall. What’s that? It was faint, like the vibration from a distant train.
Tommy reached the chamber opening and pressed himself up against the tunnel’s wall. Carefully, he peered into the chamber. After a few seconds he pulled back against the wall, breathing hard.
Something is wrong.
Tommy crept back to the group and squatted down on his haunches, breathing heavily.
“W-what did you see?” asked Carter, his voice shaky. “W-what’s there?”
“Horses.”
“Horses? What does he mean?”
“I guess he means horses, dipshit,” said Roberts.
“He’s scared,” said Carter. “Why’s he scared? Horses ain’t scary.”
“Bad spirits here,” Tommy whispered. He met Roberts’ stare briefly before looking away. The old marshal rested a weather hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“What’s he mean?” asked Carter.
“Let’s go for a look and find out,” replied Roberts.
Carter and Tommy followed Roberts down the tunnel while Bartlett and Pat shadowed them. Pat shouldered her carbine as she walked, aiming past the men in front.
I wish we had an army with us.
Entering the large chamber, Tommy moved to the right and Carter to the left. Calmly, the sword-wielding Roberts walked into the center of the room where he stopped and surveyed the chamber. Pat and the sheriff stopped at the chamber’s entrance, their guns moving from shadow to shadow.
The chamber was over twenty yards in diameter and appeared to be a natural formation. A tunnel led into the darkness opposite where they entered. A strange yellow substance lined the high ceiling and seemed to glow by an unseen means, bathing the room in an amber hue. In a recess in one wall was a solid gate made of thick iron bars, behind which half a dozen horses were housed. These were the mutants’ mounts and they were locked in a stable of sorts.
Roberts waved Carter forward to investigate. The man looked like he was going to object, but he crept to the iron bars anyway. After a quick inspection, Carter turned to Roberts and silently mouthed ‘horses.’ As he stepped away from the bars, a dark shape dropped on him from above. He screamed, dropping one of his swords as the creature sank sharp teeth into his shoulder, drawing blood. Panicking, Carter struck at his attacker with his remaining sword, but was unable to dislodge it. He howled in pain as the creature’s claws dug into his flesh.
Pat swung her carbine and aimed at the dark creature on Carter’s back. The drifter moved wildly as he tried to dislodge the creature. Man and beast blurred as they fought hard to kill each other.
No shot!
“Garrett!” shouted Roberts. “Just take the shot!”
Pat breathed out, blocking out her surroundings. Her limbs tingled as her gift obeyed her will. Imagining her target, Pat squeezed the trigger without aiming down the weapon’s sights. The carbine recoiled sharply in her arms, the sound deafening in the confinements of the chamber, but she didn’t hear it—she was too focused. When her senses cleared, there was a faint wisp of gunpowder in the air and everyone was staring at her.
A small demon-like creature lay dead in a pool of its own black blood at Carter’s feet. Her bullet had passed through its eye and blown out the back of its head.
“You crazy bitch!” said Carter, flicking the creature’s brain matter off his neck and shoulder. “You could’ve killed me!”
“She never misses,” replied Roberts.
The horses stomped and whinnied in fear and then all hell broke loose as several more dark-skinned creatures leapt off the walls, dropping onto the u
nsuspecting posse. The imp-like creatures attacked silently, their teeth and claws slashing at the humans with a wild bloodlust.
One imp landed in front of Pat, it was no more than five foot tall and its lumpy skin was the color of natural rock. Its narrow face was dominated by large magenta-colored eyes and a mouthful of wickedly sharp teeth. The imp slashed at her with a clawed hand and hissed disappointedly when it missed. Pat leapt back, using her carbine to fend off the creature as it tried to slash her again.
They’re fast!
The imp latched onto Pat’s gun barrel with a powerful grip and twisting the weapon back and forth, she was unable to break its hold. Pat cycled the gun’s lever and pulled the trigger, blowing off the imp’s leg below its knee. It screamed, releasing its grip on her gun suddenly, causing her to stumble backward. She tripped, falling flat onto her back.
Oof!
Pat raised herself up on an elbow as the sounds of frightened horses, shouting men and unearthly screeching filled the air.
The imp grimaced as it slid itself along on its stomach toward her. Black blood pumped onto the ground as the imp latched on to her boot with a taloned hand—the severe wound didn’t stop it from trying to kill Pat.
“Eat this!”
Pat cycled her carbine and squeezed the trigger. At that close range, the imp’s head vaporized into a cloud of blood and brains, spraying her legs and splattering the wall with gore while filling the air with the smell of fresh demon meat and blood—
A dark shape leapt over the first imp’s corpse as it rolled off her legs and instinctively she raised her carbine just in time, shielding her face as another imp reached for her throat. This imp was strong and she struggled to hold it back. The demon-imp’s putrid breath filled her sensors as her strength slowly gave out—the carbine gradually descended until the creature’s hands were only inches from her skin.
No!
Suddenly, the creature’s unearthly eyes went wide and it spewed blood onto her. Several inches of steel had appeared in the center of its chest. Dark blood poured from its chest wound as the steel blade withdrew and the creature went limp. With a grunt, Pat threw the dead imp off.
A blood-splattered Roberts stood over her, gore dripping from his cavalry sword. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’ll live.”
He turned, walking away without offering to help her up.
I guess chivalry is dead…
Pat stood and leaned against the tunnel wall. Heedless of the demon blood that covered her shoulder and chest, she clenched the carbine tightly in her hands. Not far away, Roberts knelt beside Bartlett who lay up against the tunnel wall. The old marshal assisted Bartlett to bandage the sheriff’s leg with a strip of cloth. Bartlett glanced over at her and winced as Roberts tied off the makeshift bandage.
What are these things?
Stumbling past the two older men, Pat entered the main chamber. There were several dead imp bodies lying scattered about the ground. Carter still stood near the stables, mumbling to himself as he wiped black blood from his swords. His shirt was torn and his arms and right shoulder were bloody and scratched, but he was still standing.
Tommy was nearby and stooped to remove his tomahawk from an imp’s skull. With a flick of his wrist, he removed most of the blood off the weapon and tucked it back into his belt.
We’re all alive.
With no immediate threats, Pat wiped her hands on her pants and reloaded her carbine, then slung it on her back. She moved back to Roberts and Bartlett. “Bat-creatures and now these…what are these things?”
“They’re demons, I guess,” replied Roberts. “The servants of the dark gods.”
“What? Have you seen these things before?”
“Not these. But I’ve seen similar.” Roberts assisted Bartlett to stand and face her. “This is our job, Marshal.”
Our job?
Bartlett put his weight on Roberts and Pat grabbed the sheriff’s other arm. Together they helped the injured man into the main chamber, guiding Bartlett over to a hay bale. He winced as he dropped onto it.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” exploded Carter. The man eyes were wild. “I didn’t sign up for this shit! People dead. And now this.” He pointed the dead imps. “Find a boy and kill a few robbers…collect a reward. Easy money. This shit ain’t easy!”
“No one expected the mission to go down like this,” said Roberts. “But it has.”
“What are these things?”
“Everything out here changes constantly. It all started when the Sky Fires turned this land into this bloody wasteland. People mutated…and then the demons appeared. The human race is at war and most people don’t even know.”
“Are there more demons out there?” asked Carter.
“Out here in the wasteland? No doubt about it. The government worries that these demons are infiltrating our communities…they can look like us and that scares the shit out of the men at the top. The Agency’s job is to hunt down and execute anything that crawls out of the wasteland and threatens our way of life.”
Shit! thought Pat. They never told me this at basic training.
“How many monsters are out here?” asked Bartlett.
“The truth is, we don’t know. But the Agency wants every last one of them dead or alive.”
“Is this still a rescue?” asked Carter. “Or a suicide mission?”
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re here to get the Stein boy and nothing more.”
“Now what?”
“We get the boy and kill whatever gets in our way.”
“I never signed on for this shit. I say we leave now and forget this boy. And that mutant girl and her dumbass brother. We’ll tell everyone we couldn’t find them. They’ll understand.”
“Carter, you fucking coward!” The sheriff tried to stand, but a sharp pain forced him down again.
“Coward? I just want to live. Don’t you?”
Chapter 14
Shielding her eyes against the first light of a new day, Billie surveyed her surroundings. She balanced on a rock two feet off the ground and looked out toward the southern horizon. The lifeless wasteland stretched as far as she could see. The extra height from her perch didn’t aid her in seeing much more than standing on the ground, but she was desperate to see sign of her brother again, or Pat and the others.
Nothing…
Deflated, Billie stepped down onto the ground, sending a small cloud of yellow dust into the air. She adjusted the hessian sack on her shoulders and trudged off across the barren land.
Her emotions tightened around her heart as she thought of Joey. Why him? He doesn’t deserve this! He wouldn’t hurt anyone. Billie unconsciously touched the revolver at her side. Hold on, Joey, I’m coming.
From high above, the sun beat down savagely on Billie, sapping her strength and her will to go on. Pausing against a rock, she stared at the ground for several minutes before she worked up the energy to remove the sack from her back and pull out the canteen. Her mouth filled with warm water and she savored its taste, feeling it in her cheeks before swallowing. It felt good, lubricating her dry throat.
Better save some for later. She secured its lid, double-checking it was tight. If there is a later.
She shook the canteen. It was almost empty. It seemed unlikely she could survive another day on what she had left. Water and shelter from the burning sun were her top priorities now or she wouldn’t survive much longer. In a daze-like state, she convinced her feet to move as she plodded forward again. Her mind was weary, no longer registering her desolate surroundings—the wasteland looked all the same anyway.
Except that.
Billie paused. In her path was an odd dark brown spot as large as her palm. It wasn’t dirt—it looked wet. Water? Billie’s mind snapped back into the present and she knelt to examine the damp soil. Water? Beyond all hope she prayed it was water and brought her muddy fingertips to her face, inhaling its scent. The moist earth smelled almost sweet, no, coppery…
>
Oh shit. It’s blood.
Billie flicked her fingers, wiping them manically on her pants.
This can’t be good.
Billie scanned the ground. There were a few more dark patches in the dirt further away—the blood trail led south. She hesitated and stared at the trail for some time before making up her mind. What choice did she have? She had to follow the trail, even though it went against her better judgment.
Cautiously, she trekked toward a group of tall standing boulders not too far away. She cursed as stones clanked under her feet as she stumbled forward. So much for sneaking…
Halfway to the boulders she froze mid-step. Something caught her eye. Several yards away, a piece of raw meat glistened in the sunlight. The lump of moist flesh lay in the yellow dust like a discarded possession.
Please, God, don’t let this be anyone I know.
Drawing her revolver, Billie surveyed the land, but all was ghostly quiet. She bent down and examined the flesh tentatively—she didn’t touch it. It’s not human, she thought. The hair was coarse, animal fur, but from what, she couldn’t tell.
Billie straightened and resumed following the grisly trail, glancing about as she travelled. Something felt wrong—with each step it felt like the wasteland was watching her, holding its breath, waiting for her...an ominous heaviness settled on her and her feet faltered but she willed herself onward.
Before she had rounded the boulders, a stench assailed her nostrils and she gagged—it was like being hit with a physical blow. She stopped, not wanting to go. I must look. Leading with the revolver, Billie stepped around the boulders, almost dropping her gun. Wide-eyed, she staggered back against the boulder’s warm surface.
The ground, boulders, everything were coated in blood.
Her mind screamed and she would have fallen if it wasn’t for the support of the boulder at her back. The contents of her stomach lurched up her throat as she stared wide-eyed at the scene in front of her. Large chunks of flesh, fur and bones—many of which had been picked clean and were spread over a wide area. Blood stained the ground crimson like a mad painter’s canvas.
Billie the Kid: The Sky Fire Chronicles Book 1 Page 10