Authors: Michael P. Spradlin
H
ollister found Chee in the armory. Since it was in between his bunk and the guest quarters, where Shaniah was supposed to be sleeping, he wondered how she had gotten past Chee without his seeing her. He guessed it didn’t matter though, because according to Shaniah, he already knew about them.
“Chee, we’ve only known each other a short time. And its become clear to me you know a lot of things about the world that I don’t,” Jonas said.
“I’m not sure I understand, sir,” Chee said.
“You know things. When Van Helsing was here, not a lot of what he told us surprised you. You knew about Deathwalkers, as you called them. And you’ve got that Chinese fighting style and . . .”
“Kung fu, sir,” he said.
“Yes . . . Kung fu. My point is that a lot of what we’ve learned about these Archaics and the other things we’ve seen hasn’t appeared to surprise you,”
“I suppose not, sir,” he said.
“Why is that?”
Chee shrugged. “Maybe it is just how I was raised,” he said. “I grew up in New Orleans. I am . . . my grandparents were . . . from many cultures. My grandmother Annabel was a former slave, born in Haiti. Her husband, my grandfather Lu Chi—it was misspelled on the deed of the first property he was allowed to buy—was from China; my mother’s father was half Cajun and half Mexican, and my other grandmother was a full-blooded Creek Indian.”
“So you’re saying . . .” Hollister said.
“I’ve learned from many cultures. What may seem strange to someone is not so strange to me,” he said. “Some believe when we die we are gone. Others say there are ways for the dead to return, as spirits, and through voodoo, which is a type of witchcraft my grandmother Annabel often spoke of. My grandfather Lu Chi believed death was a doorway. It could be opened and closed and walked through both ways. There are many ways of understanding and examining the other worlds we call heaven, hell, the afterlife. Some are different, some are the same, but it all depends on the culture and your point of view. But if the question you are asking me is if I believe in these things, my answer is yes. And hasn’t what we’ve seen given proof to it?”
Hollister smiled. Chee had talked to him about something personal for almost an entire minute. It might have been the longest conversation he had had with his sergeant. He looked at him with a rueful grin.
“Well, did all those grandparents teach you anything about understanding women?” Hollister said.
“No, sir, I don’t think any culture has an answer for that question, sir,” Chee said.
Hollister thought he might be joking, but the expression on Chee’s face was always the same so it was hard for Jonas to tell.
“Shaniah has told me some things, about other creatures, like these Archaics, witches, and what she called wolf people and—”
“Werewolves,” Chee interrupted.
“Yeah, werewolves. Bad enough I’ve got super-strong, nearly indestructible Archaics on my ass, now I got to go to sleep at night worrying if Monkey Pete or somebody else I know is going to turn into a wolf at the next full moon and come after me like I’m a walking pork chop.”
“I don’t believe Monkey Pete is a werewolf, sir.”
Hollister gave a derisive snort. “How can we be sure of anything?”
“Well for one, Dog would know, sir. And he likes Monkey Pete.”
“Dog would . . . of course. Dog would know. Damn dog is probably the smartest one of us on this damn train,” Hollister muttered. “Anyway, it’s past sunrise, I should have relieved you. I’m sorry about that, Chee.”
“No worries, Major. I don’t sleep much anyway,” Chee said, almost cheerfully. “Besides, I think Monkey Pete is ready to show us something.”
Hollister started toward the door of the car, but Chee stopped him.
“Major, since we are on the subject of witches and wolf people and whatnot, I feel there is something I must tell you,” Chee said.
“What is it?” Hollister asked, slightly surprised. This was the first time Hollister could remember Chee offering an opinion or a statement without being asked.
“The woman, Shaniah, you are with her now . . .” Chee hesitated. Hollister said nothing, realizing there was no sense in denying it. Shaniah had been right. Chee knew.
“Go on,” Hollister said hesitantly.
“She is different. Not just because she is an Archaic, but even among them, she . . . has power,” he said.
“What kind of power?” Hollister asked.
“I’m not sure I can explain it, sir. She could kill us easily if she wanted to, but she has not. In fact, she has gone out of her way to help us. At great personal risk. Yet she is holding something back. I do not yet determine what it is. She is dangerous. I wish I could tell you why this is, but I can’t. I simply know it. She is not like the Archaics in some important way. It may be the very reason she is here.”
“I’m sure she is holding something back, I don’t doubt it. But she doesn’t seem dangerous to me. I . . . she . . . when . . .” Hollister stumbled over the words.
Chee held up his hand. “Do not worry, and do not try to explain, I understand your confusion. But, Major . . . I will be watching her,” Chee said.
“I guess that’s probably not a bad idea,” he said.
“And, Major, if I see she is . . . if she looks to be ready to betray us, to turn on one of us for any reason or to threaten you in any way, I will kill her.”
Hollister looked at his young sergeant, knowing the man had just told him something that had been hard for him to say. Hollister would not belittle him by arguing the point.
“I understand. Now, let’s go see what Monkey Pete has to show us.”
M
onkey Pete was proud of what he’d pieced together. As Chee had seen earlier, he had taken two of the spare flywheels for the gear assembly on the engine and created an axle out of a spare piece of pipe. The cart was about four feet wide, and he’d apparently stripped some planks of wood from inside the car and made a platform about six feet long.
The metal wheels were thin and weren’t likely to travel well in the soil, so Pete wrapped them in several layers of rope to thicken them so they would roll more easily over whatever surface they needed to travel.
He had bolted one of the Gatlings to the cart. The surface of the platform stood about three feet off the ground so the gun could swivel with a 360-degree field of fire.
A Fire Shooter was also strapped to the cart, along with several boxes of ammo, silver, and wooden and holy-water bullets. The cart itself looked lethal just sitting there, and for a second Hollister let himself feel encouraged. They were going in against an enemy more powerful than anything he’d ever faced. But they could be killed, and he might just have the firepower to do it. But then he pushed the thought from his head. No use getting cocky. It would only get them killed.
Jonas checked his pocket watch.
The information he had on the Clady mine was sketchy. Mostly some railroad documents and a one-page report Pinkerton had been able to scrounge up and telegraph to him.
It wouldn’t be like Absolution. The mine here had been closed for years. There were a few decrepit buildings left and then the mine shaft. The majority of the Archaics would probably be in the mine, until the sun went down. If he were Malachi, he would come at them again, once it was dark. But it would be a different approach. He would try something to draw them away from the train, maybe setting it on fire. Two problems with that approach: first, everything outside of the train was steel or iron and wouldn’t burn, and second, he wouldn’t know Hollister and his band would be in Clady already waiting for them.
Shaniah stepped out of the train and looked over Monkey Pete’s newest contraption. Hollister could tell she was still angry with him, ignoring him completely at first, and instead turning her attention to the cart. After studying his creation for a minute she shook her head in amazement, but smiled. “It pains me to say it, but I think what you have done here, Mr. Pete, is found a way to kill many Archaics.”
“Well, ma’am, no offense, but I hope so,” Monkey Pete said. “Major, I had these in the armory, and I thought they might come in handy.” He pointed to two wooden cases sitting on the cart. Stenciled on the side of each case was the word
DYNAMITE
.
Hollister smiled. “I think we might find a use for it.”
Hollister looked at his watch again. It was now after 10
A.M.
According to the map it was just over twelve miles to Clady. It was also mostly uphill. Hollister wanted to be in position well before late afternoon, when the sun went down behind the mountains, in case some Archaics might move about in the hours before the actual sunset.
“All right,” Hollister said. “Pete, you stay with the train. We’re going to off-load the horses and pull those trees off the track before we leave, in case you need to get out of here. After that, we’re leaving for Clady. You stay in the gunner’s bubble with that Gatling. If we don’t come back or if you see an Archaic, don’t fight ’em off. You get the hell out of here. Send a wire to Pinkerton as soon as you can, tell him we failed and he’s going to have to try something else to kill these things. Tell him he’ll need the biggest goddamn stick of dynamite that’s ever been made. Or something.”
He looked at each of them. All of them wore solemn expressions on their faces. They were ready.
“All right,” Hollister said. “Let’s get going.”
M
alachi sat on a chair in one of the large chambers of the mine. Around him dozens of Archaic initiates slept, hidden from the burning rays of the sun outside. Soon they would be able to go without sleep for weeks as their transformation from human to Archaic was completed. Their mood had changed completely since he had slaughtered the cowards earlier this morning. They had always had a healthy respect for his temper, but now they feared him. Since Shaniah had arrived in Absolution he had found it necessary to discipline his followers for their failures for the first time. If the world was to belong to his people, they would not be the last.
There had been no choice. Archaics could not be afraid. They could never be allowed to retreat, they must attack without hesitation and weakness would not be tolerated.
The mine was clear of bats and rodents, driven out by their preternatural fear of the Archaics, so the only sound was the occasional murmur from the disturbed sleep of his followers. He felt strong. He knew he was more powerful than he had been in centuries, since the Archaics had retreated to the high mountains of the homeland.
He would need his strength now more than ever.
Shaniah was coming. He could feel her presence growing closer. It had been so long since he had seen her. Years. And soon one of them would die.
It would end.
M
onkey Pete’s cart worked remarkably well and given the terrain and the elevation they were able to make excellent time toward the mine. Demeter had little trouble pulling the cart up the steep incline, and by noon they were more than halfway there.
There was very little talking as they rode. They were alert and a little nervous. Shaniah was cloaked, reminding them that other Archaics could be about and cloaked as she was, and that ambush was always possible. But Hollister didn’t think Malachi would risk a daylight attack after losing so many in the night attack on the train. Chee and Hollister rode with Fire Shooters on their backs. The third was bolted to the cart. Each of them carried a Henry across his saddle.
It was four o’clock when they reached the mine. They stayed back in the trees surrounding the clearing where the bulk of the mining camp had once stood. Hollister dismounted and scanned the area with his spyglass but there was no movement or sign of anyone nearby. There were two buildings, both of them nearly falling down, one with the roof already partially caved in, about sixty yards from the mine opening. The other building was to the right of the first, perhaps ten yards closer to the entrance and nothing more than a small shed. He would put Chee with the Gatling and his Fire Shooter there. He would take up a position in the first building with the Fire Shooter, the Ass-Kicker, his Henry, and some of the dynamite, just in case things got really interesting.
“Shaniah, I want Chee in the small building with the Gatling. I don’t suppose you’d reconsider using a Fire Shooter, would you?” Hollister asked.
“No,” she answered and he decided not to press the issue.
“All right then, if you can cover our flank. And . . .”
“I will be going in to kill Malachi,” she said.
“But if we need—” Hollister started to say.
“Malachi has eluded me for years. He may well bring about the end of my people still. I will do what I can to protect and support you in your efforts to destroy his followers. And I will kill all of them who get in my way. But I am here to kill Malachi, even if it means my own death.”
“I . . . you . . . Shaniah . . . listen to me . . . please . . .” Hollister pleaded.
“The matter is closed,” she said.
Hollister stood there, his mouth open, trying to think of something to say to change her mind, but he had nothing. He could tell she would not be swayed.
“All right then,” he said. “Let’s get in position.”
T
he horses were secluded in the woods to the south of the camp, the direction they would need to flee in the train if everything turned to shit. They had less than two hours before the sun fell behind the mountains to the west. It wouldn’t be sundown completely, but it wouldn’t be direct sunlight either, and there was a better than good chance Archaics would exit the mine when the sun set. Hollister wanted to be ready.
Carefully he and Chee pulled the cart toward the building. They went as quietly as possible, and Monkey Pete had thought of everything, even greasing the wheels so they wouldn’t squeak as they rolled over the rough terrain. Hollister studied the entrance to the mine shaft with the spyglass again for several minutes. He wasn’t sure how far down into the mine the Archaics might go during the day and he hoped like hell they didn’t stay close to the opening so any sentries might spot them. But he couldn’t tell. The entrance was too dark and shrouded in shadow. He toyed with the idea of just dynamiting the entrance and trapping them all inside.
But such a plan had flaws. It wasn’t likely to kill the Archaics and they could dig their way out. And if some were standing guard near the entrance Hollister and Chee would certainly be spotted, then all bets would be off.
“Shaniah,” he said. “Can you see anyone inside there? Is there any way for you to tell if there is someone near the entrance who might see us?”
She peered through the telescope for several seconds. Her eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell were superior to his. As near as she could tell, there was no one close to the entrance.
“I don’t see or hear anyone,” she said.
“All right, we’ve got to move it anyway,” Hollister said. “Let’s go, Chee.”
With as much stealth as they could muster, they rolled the cart toward the small building. There was no door left in the frame, so they pushed the cart right inside. Part of the wall facing the mine entrance had collapsed, an unbelievably lucky advantage as it gave the Gatling a wide and open field of fire yet a level of concealment. It would do the same for the Fire Shooters. Hollister took one of the cases of dynamite and a pouch full of ammo for the Henry and hefted them over his shoulder.
“This is it, Sergeant,” he said. “Make every shot count.”
“Yes, sir,” Chee said. Hollister scratched Dog on the ears. This time the giant beast didn’t growl or pull away.
“Well, look at that,” Hollister said. “I’m probably going to die in ten minutes and now he decides he likes me.”
“He’s very particular,” Chee said. “I think you’ve grown on him.”
Again, Hollister couldn’t tell if Chee was joking or not. And it was getting damned annoying.
“Sergeant, if we survive this, I swear to God, I’m going to figure you out. And your damn Dog too,” Hollister said.
“I doubt it, sir,” Chee said.
And then he smiled.