Authors: David B. Riley
With the cave now wide open, it seemed poorly concealed, though I'm sure I could've ridden right past it without knowing any of this was there.
I snooped around. The cases—most marked U. S. Army—mainly contained things like swords and canteens. Then I discovered an unassembled Gatling gun in a crate by the wall. It had never occurred to me that the guns had been stolen unassembled. The thieves had, apparently, only managed to prepare one of them.
I decided to take a closer look at the assembled one and climbed up onto the buckboard to inspect my find. It was certainly one of the missing Gatling guns, complete with a case of ammunition. It looked like it might never have been fired. The gun was quite massive. I wondered about the military value of a gun that was so big and heavy. Then, I realized the graduate fellow was tugging at my shirtsleeve. There was an odd look in his eyes. “What is it?” I asked.
He seemed unable to talk. Finally, he blurted out “There!” and pointed out into the center of the crater. “There!"
Something was crawling up the side of the crater. It had a rounded head that was pitted with strange marks. A comparison to the Man in the Moon would be my best approximation of what it looked like. There wasn't much of a body, save for eight or nine brown tentacles that stretched out from the base of its head for some ten feet each. This creature was nothing like Elbert.
I watched the creature for a minute, then I looked back at the graduate fellow, hoping he could offer some learned theory about how to proceed. I looked up just in time to see the bottom of his trousers disappear out the top entrance to the cave. I went outside through the new opening and watched him run away.
In about a minute, he had vanished into the woods.
I never saw him again. I'd never even gotten his name. But, there I was, by myself with this Martian creature heading right toward me. I did not like this. My quandary was simple. This thing had not actually harmed me. All it was doing was climbing out of a really big hole. Did that justify me opening fire? My quandary only lasted a few seconds.
The Martian looked right at me. Then it reared back with one of its tentacles and threw something that started out as a clear liquid, but had changed into orange fire by the time it reached the dirt right below my feet.
The ground sizzled on impact. Whether this stuff was acid or something else, I did not look forward to feeling it sear into my skin. I fired all six rounds from my revolver, wishing Paul hadn't run off with my rifle still in his saddlebags.
The creature rolled back to the bottom of the crater and splashed into the growing pool of water. I'd hit it. As I reloaded, I hoped that had done the trick. As the Martian creature again started to climb toward me, I realized it had not.
This time, it seemed even angrier as it climbed up and out of the crater.
The graduate fellow may have been right in his solution to the dilemma, but I didn't feel right about simply running away. Then I remembered, right behind me, was the latest military hardware of the United States government—all assembled and ready to go. I pushed the buckboard closer to the opening, set the wooden wedges that appeared to be the brakes, then hopped up on the buckboard as the Martian creature climbed out of the hole.
I didn't have time to figure out how to work the thing. I just swung it around and started turning the crank, hoping it was the trigger and hoping Mr. Gatling's invention was loaded. The weapon roared to life as bullets roared out of the rotating barrels.
As the first few rounds struck the creature, bits of its tentacles tore off. Then, I was able to train the gun on the moon-like head. Chunks of that began to fly off, then bigger chunks, then an orange colored material began to spew out of the wounds. In seconds, it was all over. The creature's body was again tumbling back down into the hole as the Gatling gun stopped firing, apparently from lack of ammunition.
I stood there for a minute, then climbed down from the buckboard. The creature had vanished inside the growing pool of water at the center of the crater. There was no movement or activity that I could tell. I climbed up the wooden ladder and out of the cave. I stood there, looking around, wondering where my horse had gone off to.
I'd told Paul to run. I figured he'd retreated to a safe distance, but I now wondered where he was. I did not have to wait very long for an answer. There was dust coming up down the road. The dust trail grew closer. In no time at all, a troop of some twenty cavalry soldiers rode up, led by the major. A corporal held the reins to my horse, who appeared none the worse for wear.
"Major,” I said.
"Mr. O'Malley,” the major said while he gazed at the crater. Then he noticed the cave with its wall ripped open. “When Judge Hastings proposed sending you off into the wilderness and that you would simply blunder upon the missing weapons, I was a bit skeptical. Once again, Judge Hastings has proven smarter that I."
A soldier handed me the reins to my horse. Paul was filthy, but appeared unharmed. “We found your horse down the road."
"Much obliged,” I said.
"Sergeant, secure the Gatling guns,” the major ordered.
"Uh, aren't you the least bit curious what happened here?” I asked.
"Not in the least. My orders were to recover the stolen weapons. I care about nothing else,” the major snapped. “Though the United States government is grateful for your assistance."
"Suit yourself.” I took one last look at the crater and was relieved there still was no sign of any tentacle-covered monster climbing out of the hole. “Then I guess we'll be off."
"Returning to San Francisco?"
"Yes,” I agreed. I hoped I still had a job waiting for me.
The major said, “Well, good luck then."
Then there was a roar of gunfire. Bullets were whizzing all around us. It was over seconds after it began. Every soldier, except for the major, was lying on the ground. They'd all taken more than enough bullets. They were all dead. I looked myself over. The major and I seemed unharmed.
"I think the people who stole the Gatling guns have returned,” I said, carefully looking around us, trying not to provoke another barrage of gunfire. We were completely surrounded by men on horses, dressed in gray uniforms and each pointing a rifle at us.
Five of them rode up to us. We were both quickly tied up. Then, we were taken about a mile inland from the river, to a large camp that was filled with men in gray uniforms. I figured there had to be at least a thousand of them. This was a much bigger operation than the last time I'd seen them.
I wish I had known they had a camp so close. I wish I'd known about the hidden Gatling guns. If I had, I'd have done like the graduate fellow and run away, leaving the Martian monster to fight with these guys. But I didn't. So, I was tied up and, once again, prisoner of the men in gray.
We were taken to the center of the camp. I was yanked off of Paul and dragged inside a large yellow canvas tent.
The major arrived a few seconds later. The bony guy looked up from his ledger book. He grinned at me with those ghastly teeth. “Ah, you have come back so we can kill you again,” General Creed said. Then he looked at the major. “And you're here. We can kill you for the first time. I have wanted
you
dead for quite some time."
"Why didn't your men just gun us down a few minutes ago? I don't believe Mr. O'Malley and I were missed by accident,” the major said.
I'd been wondering the same thing. “Not with that many guns pointed at us."
"Well, I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to, most badly,” General Creed replied. “But, I had other considerations."
"Considerations?” the major asked.
"You'll see,” Creed said. “Very soon, you'll see.” He grinned at us with those ghastly green teeth. “And, thank you, Mr. O'Malley for testing my new Gatling gun. It had never been fired before today. What did you think of it?"
"I was quite impressed.” And that was the truth.
"So was I. I only wish you hadn't shot up all of my ammunition,” Creed said. He looked at the major. “Did you know there is a shortage of ammunition for these guns? A serious shortage?"
"They're new,” the major said.
We were locked up inside a big iron cage, after being searched for weapons.
People were scurrying around. They were getting ready for something, I just didn't know what. The major sat himself in the corner of the cage and pretended not to pay attention to the goings on. I just watched them load their wagons because I had nothing else to do and thought it foolish to pretend I did.
After about an hour of this, I said, “Well, I wonder when they're going to kill me this time."
"Just after dusk,” the major instantly answered.
"Dusk never meant anything before.” I looked at him. “They just tried to kill me any old time in the past."
"We're not going to be killed, precisely, Mr. O'Malley. We're going to be sacrificed in some pagan ceremony.” The major stood. “And those happen just after dusk.” He looked at the sky. “And that is about half an hour away."
"Sacrifice? How do you know all this?"
"Mr. O'Malley, I'm with the Secret Service.” He sat himself back down in the corner of the cage. “We know everything."
I didn't know much about the Secret Service, though I'd been dealing with them. I figured he was right, though. “Any idea how to get out of this mess?"
"Nope."
"Figure anyone will come along and rescue us?"
"Nope."
About half an hour later, the sun was just a sliver of light on the horizon. A whole bunch of guys in gray came and took us up onto an elevated wooden platform. They made us sit in chairs. There was a flat table on the other side of the platform. There were stains on it that I didn't like the look of, reddish brown stains. A crowd formed around the platform. I noticed General Creed was at the base of the platform, peering at me. Then, everything grew really quiet.
Four guys in gray came up onto the platform, followed by some other guy in an orange and black robe. The guy in the robe unrolled a bundle and removed a bunch of gruesome knives, then lined them up in a neat row along the edge of the table. When he had everything arranged to his liking, he nodded at General Creed.
Somehow, everything got even quieter. The silence was broken as a wagon rolled up next to the platform. It sort of reminded me of the enclosed wagons used by flimflam men who sell potions and elixirs that never seem to do much good for folks. A door on the side opened and the most bizarre creature I'd ever seen stepped directly onto the platform from the wagon. I'd already been told what Ah Puch looked like, but this was an odd sight indeed.
He dressed like a man—a tall man in the latest city slicker gray suit—but, he had the head of an owl. He looked over the crowd, then raised his hands for an instant. “Welcome warriors, welcome all,” he said in a high pitched chirping sort of voice. Ah Puch looked at me, then at the major with wide, virtually unblinking eyes. He pointed at the major, who was immediately picked up and tossed onto the table. They had him strapped down in seconds.
"Many years ago, in the jungles of the Yucatan, it was customary for the ancient people to sacrifice a warrior before going into battle. This assured victory.” He held up one of the most crooked, gruesome knives I had ever seen. In one fierce motion, he plunged it down into the major's chest. Ah Puch made a few cuts, then he rose up, holding the major's still-beating heart in his hands for all to see.
After letting everyone see it, he quickly devoured it, shredding it with his beak.
"Citizens of the new republic, victory awaits you. Tomorrow, you will capture Sacramento. You will find little resistance. Then, you will take San Francisco. The insignificant towns to the south will fall to the wayside.” Ah Puch allowed the guy in the robe to wash the blood off his hands. “Our outposts will destroy the railroad. The Union army will discover just how hard it is to cross the Sierra Nevada, especially with our snipers in place."
He kind of made a little jump. “Yes, they will have to go around. Their ships will need a year to get here. A year for us to prepare for them. California—the new California—is ours. Citizens, ride—ride on into the night. Ride on to victory."
He went over to the edge of the platform and stepped back inside the wagon. The wagon immediately was pulled by its team of horses out of the area.
I was feeling really sick, as I thought about the gruesome travesty committed on the major. I asked one of the guys in gray, “How come I didn't get sacrificed?"
"You were the spare. There is always a spare.” Two of them picked me up, still bound, at my shoulders and began carrying me. “He wants to see you."
"General Creed?"
"No."
I was dragged about a hundred yards, to where the show wagon was now parked. They knocked on the door. Even though I never heard any type of reply, the door was opened and I was thrown inside. The wagon was elegantly furnished. Ah Puch sat on a leather sofa. I was allowed to lie on the floor, nicely carpeted though it was.
"Mr. O'Malley, when I send assassins, those people I send them after are expected to become dead,” Ah Puch chirped. “You are not dead. Judge Hastings is not dead.” He pointed a finger at me. “Do you know why?"
"Yes."
"I will tell you why. You both serve Satan. You are both servants of the evil one,” Ah Puch said.
It seemed ludicrous, him calling me a servant of evil, especially after what I had just witnessed. “Well, I'm not really."
"Silence! You think I do not know your master is behind my setbacks. He fears me, for I am the rightful ruler of the underworld."
This conversation had started strange. It was moving quickly to bizarre. “I don't know nothing about that. I'm just a barber from San Francisco."
He gently placed my revolver on a small table. “This was not manufactured by the good people at Colt, Mr. O'Malley. There is no brand on it of any kind. Where was it made?"
"I do not know.” And that was the truth, though I'd often wondered.