Everyone spun, Lewis was last. The rain came down with a blast
FP3 was a wet affair in Istanbul, with the rain starting to come down shortly before the session and continuing throughout. It worsened as time went on, and towards the end, the rain was harder than at the beginning. Combined with the lack of grip from the newly resurfaced track, that meant there was very little traction to be found anywhere. Almost every driver had a spin during the session, although incredibly, apart from Antonio Giovinazzi clipping the barrier on the inside of exit of Turn 7 and damaging his front wing endplate, the session was not interrupted. Some drivers like Valtteri Bottas and Kimi Räikkönen had to use their rallying experience to keep the temperatures on the tires with Pierre Gasly also getting in on the action. Sebastian Vettel, meanwhile, had to spin his wheels quite aggressively in a bid to gain some temperature after an off-track excursion. The weather was near 10C all day, and the intermittent showers and wind did not help matters. Most drivers started the session with intermediate tires on, but once McLaren pulled the plug on the wet tires 10 minutes into the session, everyone followed suit. Every driver completed some semblance of running in the torrential conditions, but Lewis Hamilton, George Russell and Nicolas Latifi fail to do any running. Most drivers chose not to run after the rain increased in intensity and with an extra set of intermediate tires for the day, most teams saved it for qualifying. Ultimately, Max Verstappen set the fastest lap of the session and there was talk of qualifying being red flagged if the rain did not go away, but Race Director Michael Masi ultimately decided that the show would go on.
Qualifying
A Boat Would Be a Better Option
As the session began, the rain came back in the form of a drizzle, with standing water in some parts of the track. Red Bull, McLaren, Racing Point, Ferrari, and Haas all gambled on the intermediate tires, while Renault, Mercedes, AlphaTauri, and the Alfa Romeo used the wet. All drivers had trouble finding grip in the early part of the session. Every driver was eventually shown drifting or spinning, but as the session progressed, the considerable amount of standing water at the start was beginning to clear up. Lando Norris completed the first timed lap with a 2:07, followed by Sergio Perez. Meanwhile, McLaren engineers hinted that the intermediates could be viable, but the Mercedes engineers begged to differ by calling more immediate rain on the forecast. Every driver kept struggling for grip as 10 minutes had gone by, Bottas holding P1 with 2:07:001s, while his teammate was 5th. Plenty of drivers had not set a time at that point and time was running out. Alexander Albon kept struggling for grip with less than a quarter of the throttle, showing how delicate the throttle application had to be. And then lightning struck. A red flag was called out on track with 6:56 left after a massive amount of water started to collect on track, causing multiple drivers to spin and aquaplane. With 6:56 left on the clock, it meant there would still be time for 2, maybe 3, laps once the track was cleared. At this point, Esteban Ocon was on top, with Bottas, Lance Stroll, Hamilton, and Perez behind him. Charles Leclerc, Romain Grosjean, Gasly, Russell, and Latifi were all in the bottom 5, under pressure to improve once qualifying resumed under penalty of not going through to Q2. Bottas was 0.886 behind Ocon in P2, while Räikkönen was 3.153 seconds off in P10, and Verstappen was a staggering 4.768 off the best time in P15, unable to improve his position after a spin on his outlap caused his fast lap to be interrupted by the red flag. Russell was in 19th 7 seconds off and his teammate had not even completed a timed lap yet. The Safety Car came out twice to judge the track conditions and after over 30 minutes and a sweeper truck wiping the water off the racing line, the track was deemed to be safe enough to run again. Albon was the first to leave the pits on wet tires, with all cars following him with the same compound. Räikkönen had a massive spin on the outlap, nearly collecting Leclerc upon re-entry. But before we go any further, has anyone in your life told you that lightning does not strike the same place twice? Well… A red flag was called out with 3:30 left in the session, to clear Grosjean’s car, beached just past Turn 1. He lost control of the car and failed to maintain enough momentum to get out of the gravel trap. The red flag only lasted about 5 minutes, but no driver could set a lap time, and 3 more minutes were off the clock now. Verstappen and Leclerc were under even more pressure now, as they were still stuck in P15 and P16. Track evolution would be quite fantastic, however. The Red Bull immediately went 8.6 seconds faster than before, Vettel and Leclerc improved massively and the two Alfa Romeos followed suit. Hamilton had his lap time deleted, which put him P14, one of the lowest results for him in his career in Q1. Bottas also failed to improve his time, but he survived in P9, 9.5 seconds off the pace. Grosjean was unable to set a lap time, and his teammate failed to clear the elimination zone as well. Russell did not make Q2 this time, but he still maintains his perfect qualifying record, now standing at 35-0. Daniil Kvyat had a very hard time on track, with multiple spins, and it meant he failed to clear Q1. During the frantic last laps, a couple of yellow flags were called out on track, but some drivers improved in those sectors. The stewards called a few drivers to debate the matter, as Kevin Magnussen alleged that some drivers did not lift off as they saw the flags. The stewards will have their say on these decisions after the qualifying session is over. Lance Stroll has been cleared, while others were not no lucky, starting with Q1 victim George Russell. Right as the session was ending and the cars were heading back into the pits, Latifi beached his Williams on the gravel.
Orange and Red: Shades of Disappointment
The second part of qualifying began with yellow flags still being flown as marshals were in the process of clearing Latifi’s stranded car - a strange and borderline dangerous decision that was immediately criticized by a number of drivers. Speaking of peculiar decisions, both McLaren drivers came out on the intermediate tire. As the racing line was still very wet, Lando Norris did manage to set the first timed lap of the session but had that time deleted for exceeding track limits. Both he and his teammate Carlos Sainz struggled throughout the session and complained that sustained running on inters caused their rear tires to burn too fast and rear grip to dissipate. With less than a third of the time remaining, the duo pitted for wets in a last-ditch attempt to reach the top 10 but, ultimately, lacked the pace to do so and ended up P11 and P13. The team's day would get even worse, as Sainz was deemed to have impeded Perez and handed a 3 place grid penalty, while Norris lost five places for falling to slow down for yellow flags. Meanwhile, in a demonstration of superb form, the Red Bull boys had a front-row lockout after the initial set of laps while Bottas was half a second down, with reigning Driver’s Champion Hamilton even further back. The Red Bull supremacy, however, was not set in stone. As the 15 cars on the track pushed more water off the racing line with every lap, the conditions were quickly improving and times tumbling. Stroll momentarily rose to P1 while Perez was 3rd fastest. Surprising many, Räikkönen extracted enviable pace from his Alfa Romeo, threatening those at the front during the entire session, and raising eyebrows as he outperformed both Ferrari drivers. Mercedes made progress as well but failed to usurp their rivals and did not appear to be the same F1 juggernaut that they almost always are. With the checkered flag shown, the session came to a close, and Verstappen still held P1, an incredible gap of over 2 seconds to his nearest rival. Fellow Red Bull-family driver Pierre Gasly had to settle for P15, and, as previously mentioned, McLaren failed to make Q3 after spending much of their session on the wrong compound. It was also a disappointing afternoon for Ferrari. The Scuderia had shown strength during the free practice sessions but, when push came to shove, wound up in P12 and P14. Interestingly, however, of the two Prancing Horse drivers, it was Leclerc who struggled with the car more. The Monégasque was 1.5 seconds slower than Vettel, thus ending his long-stretching streak of beating his 4-time WDC companion on Saturdays. Compared to Q1, the second part of qualifying was a quiet affair, as there were only a handful of yellow flags and the drivers seemed to have slowly begun to find the limits of their cars and of the track. Nevertheless, the implications from the session are profound, given that McLaren fell well short of the pace they need if they are to battle for P3 in the Constructor’s Championship. Racing Point, McLaren, and Renault are all separated by a grand total of just one point and a good performance by McLaren on Sunday will be needed if they are to hold on to the other teams, while continuing to lag will see them have to play catch-up in the last 3 rounds remaining after Istanbul. The pressure is on for the Woking squad and their drivers.
Max v Lance: Who Could’ve Guessed?
The weather for Q3 had greatly improved, a beautiful overcast sky showing over Istanbul, the Seven Hills visible in the background. A 4th consecutive pole position for Red Bull in Istanbul looked inevitable as Max Verstappen was seconds quicker than the nearest competitor. But conditions had changed and it remained to be seen if Q2 form would hold. Red Bull showed early on just how eager they were, coming out to complete their initial timed laps first, followed by both Alfa Romeos and both Mercedes. For the first set of laps, everyone was on the blue striped wet tire other than Ocon and Perez. It was a strange call as Verstappen’s onboard shots showed that there were still puddles on track. As he crossed the line, Verstappen set the benchmark at 1:52.3 but was quickly pipped by Perez, who went 2 tenths faster on intermediates, a rare opportunity to see the fabled “tire cross-over” in action. Red Bull was quick to respond as Verstappen set 2 purples sectors on his follow-up lap but ultimately abandoned his lap to come into the pits, instructed by his team to switch to the faster Intermediate tires, as the intermediate was now clearly the faster tire. Both sides of the Mercedes garage struggled today, Hamilton’s non-running in FP3 apparently hindering his progress, at one point the #44 being 7 seconds off the pace. The gap did shrink as qualifying went on, but the struggles still continued. Hamilton was not convinced the Intermediates were the right tire, eventually reluctantly coming into the pits for the green stripes at the behest of his engineer. It was all for naught as Lewis finished P6 with a 1:52.560, 5 seconds off the pole position time. Bottas struggled even more than Hamilton in the dynamic weather conditions, finishing P9 with a 1:53.358. Racing Point’s strategy call to place Sergio Perez on the intermediates turned out to be a master stroke. As other teams pitted to switch, Perez spent additional time on track, bringing in valuable information for the team. With the puddles draining away from the racing line, Perez improved his lap time by 2.7 seconds, Stroll behind him for an incredible Racing Point 1-2. But it was not over yet. Verstappen came out of the pits on a mission and after dominating the free practice sessions, and he looked determined to claim pole position on the wet Istanbul Park. Fate, however, had other plans, as he came out of the pits and immediately protested over the radio that his tires had neither grip nor temperature. It got even worse when he found himself behind Räikkönen on his outlap, the much slower car hampering Verstappen’s tire warming strategy. Verstappen could not pass initially and had to finish his first out lap still behind the Alfa Romeo, and as he had enough time for another outlap, he waited to set his final fast lap, eventually finishing the session in 2nd place. Lance Stroll continued on after setting his preliminary time and further improved on the treacherous track, he dropped his teammate to P2 and eventually claimed his maiden pole position with an impressive 1:47.765. Lance Stroll also became the first Canadian to start from pole since Jacques Villeneuve at the 1997 European GP. The final qualifying order, on which very few people would have bet on before the session started, was Stroll, Verstappen, Perez, Albon, Daniel Ricciardo, Hamilton, Ocon, Räikkönen, Bottas and Antonio Giovinazzi.
Looking Forward to the Race
Strategy was the name of the game today, it led to Racing Point and Lance Stroll’s historic pole position, but great strategy calls on Saturday will not guarantee success on Sunday, even more so in changing conditions. Racing Point has had its fair share of dubious strategy calls this year, most recently throwing away a podium for Perez at the Emilia Romagna GP in Imola. But hopefully they will again do well tomorrow and build on their Saturday glory. Verstappen has been electric all weekend and all odds pointed toward him getting pole until he came out in traffic and struggled with the temperatures on his intermediates. He was utterly dejected with the result, clearly feeling he could have done better, but tomorrow will be a different day, and while Lance Stroll is known on the paddock for his great starts, Verstappen is already considered one of the best drivers on the grid and should be in a great position to fight for the lead with Stroll. The weather forecast for tomorrow shows similar temperatures at 14C / 57F with a 50% chance of scattered showers, which heavily points to a wet track tomorrow. As both Mercedes struggled with the cold conditions, it is not inconceivable that they will not be able to challenge for the lead. But a wise Formula 1 fan does not discount the Black Arrows that easily, so we will watch them closely once the red lights are out tomorrow. If they do struggle, Verstappen could have a great shot at victory, provided the Racing Points fail to match their Saturday pace. Renault have shown potential to grab important points this weekend, as McLaren and Ferrari will be starting further behind them. A hot take to finish this preview before the race tomorrow: both Alfas are in the points, as tomorrow could see a replay of the battle of attrition and longevity we saw in the 2019 German GP. There remains a slim possibility that Alfa could snatch a podium and become the eighth different team to do so this season. All questions will be answered tomorrow on track.
Journal of Roy Wilson This journal was recovered from an unmarked grave in the mountains, near the border of Texas and Mexico. It is believed to belong to Roy Wilson, an American hunter who disappeared in the summer of 1887 along with US Marshal Harrison Cooper, whilst investigating a train robbery near Fort Worth. The text appears to be authentic, but further investigation is ongoing. June 6th, 1887 Had I never again set eyes upon Marshal Harrison Cooper, it would have been far too soon. Though I cannot rightly claim to have ever hated the man, for indeed all that I had was on account of his mercy, I had hoped that when we last had parted we would never cross paths again. Perhaps had fate been kinder, our reunion may have been a peaceful one. A chance encounter that brought with it no ghosts of the past. However, I learned long ago that fate is not kind, it is cruel and spiteful. That I ever forgot the simple truth of that is solely on myself. In my youth, I saw the world as something I could take for myself. I was a fool, a stupid boy with a gun and a steady hand. That was why I joined up with the likes of Blake Hayes. Blake saw himself as some guerilla in a war that had never quite ended. He’d been a confederate man a few years back, and most of those who’d followed him had served with him back in the day. Blake was the sort who talked of freedom. He saw himself as a folk hero, and I was young and stupid enough to buy into his bullshit. For five good years, he gave me what I wanted. Freedom. For five years, I lived outside of the law, thinking that I was invincible. Looking back now, I can say that it felt like fifty and I was sure it was never gonna end. Until it did. We’d hit a bank in some small, nowhere town. It was supposed to be easy money. Nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before. The hit score itself didn’t go bad at all. Hell, if it hadn’t been for one little hitch that life would never have ended as it did. But life’s full of little hitches, ain’t it? Little accidents can change everything in the blink of an eye. I still don’t quite know what happened. One minute I was on my horse, right behind Blake and some of the other boys. The next I was in the dirt, hurting all over. My horse was still running but I wasn’t. My shoulder was bleeding, and coming up on me were the folks my associates and I had just finished robbing. That was how Marshal Cooper found me, locked up in the jail of some shithole town, waiting on a trial that would almost certainly send me to the noose. I would’ve done anything to avoid that, and I reckon that Cooper knew that. He cut me a deal. My life for Blakes, and his men. The choice was obvious. I led Cooper to where I knew the boys had gone to lay low. I ain’t never been proud of turning traitor, but I know that had positions been reversed Blake would’ve sold me out just as quickly. Besides, that feeling of invincibility was gone. Having seen the inside of a cell and heard folks talk about stringing me up, that life outside of the law didn’t look so good anymore. For what little it is worth, Cooper had the good sense to find me out in the wilderness, away from any who might overhear the business we had to attend to. This morning I had set out to hunt for elk. I had tracked a small group of them, split off from the rest of the herd. I'd just shot one and was in the midst of skinning it when I heard movement in the brush behind me, I went for my rifle. I was greeted by the last face I wanted to see. Harrison Cooper. The ten years since I’d seen him had been kind. Pretty as a picture he was, blond hair and a heavy jawline, like a cowboy you might see in some dime book. "Hello Roy.” He said as if we’d last seen each other only yesterday. “Marshal,” I replied, lowering my rifle. Cooper wasn’t the sort to kill a man in cold blood, but I wasn’t fixing to provoke him either. “You’re awful far from San Antonio, ain’t you?” “Afraid I am.” He replied, “You’re looking good, Roy. Making an honest living, I hear.” “I am. And I’ve done so ever since you and I concluded our past business with Blake Hayes.” I spit in the dirt. “I’ve heard that too.” The Marshal said. “You can relax, Roy. I ain’t here for you.” “Then what are you here for? I don’t suppose you went and got lost now, did’ja?” “Afraid not.” He said. The smile he gave almost looked apologetic. Almost. He dismounted his horse and approached my kill. He looked down at the elk, before huffing. “Suppose I help you get this back to your place? Maybe you and I might have a chat on the way there.” I took him on that offer and it might’ve been the dumbest thing I ever did. “I don’t suppose you remember a fella by the name of Jones, Daniel Jones.” He asked as we rode back through the brush. Cooper rode beside me, leaving me uneasy. All the same, I answered his question. “Jonsey. I remember him. One of Blake's crew.” I said, “Crazy as a shithouse rat, if I recall. I would’ve figured he’d have hung with Blake.” “Now if it had been that simple, I wouldn’t have stopped by to visit.” Cooper replied. “That yellow bastard got out before the hanging. Ran off into the wind. Figured that was the last I'd hear of him but there was an… unusual incident, about two weeks back. A train robbery to put it simply. I’ve got a few folks that name Jones as the one behind it.” “Unusual?” I asked. “There were 76 souls on that train. Every single one of them was alive when the train made it into the station… Only three of them have said anything about the robbery. The rest don’t talk no more. Not a single word. The ones who are still alive are dead silent and pale as the grave.” “I thought you said they were all alive.” I said. “Well they were when the train came in. Over the next few days though, thirty of them just dropped. Not quite sure why. I’ve heard people whispering of plague, but I ain’t quite sure I buy that. Just what else it may be, I can’t tell you. But I’ve got a feeling in my gut that Jones is responsible.” I rode in silence, letting all that Cooper had said sink in before shaking my head. “Well there, Marshal. Looks to me like you’ve got quite a vexing situation on your hands… I don’t think your man is old Jonsey, though. If that old sonofabitch had the brains to plan a train heist I would be well and truly surprised.” I could see Cooper's expression darken from the corner of my eye. “I’m asking nicely, Roy.” He said, “Not begging. But I don’t know if I’ve got any other options.” Up ahead, I could see my cabin. I stopped my horse and stared at it in silence. “I ain’t a man I used to be, Cooper.” I said, “That man you cut a deal with ten years back, the one who helped you take down Blake? That was an outlaw with nothing left to lose, looking for a way out. Back then, I would’ve been alright going down trying to take out Blake. It ain’t the same now. I’m a hunter now. I’ve got a wife and a boy. If I don’t come home…” Cooper was silent. He stared at the cabin alongside me. “I ain’t asking you to fight him.” He finally said, “Just help me find him and I promise you, you’ll come home in one piece.” “You’re asking me to trust that shiny badge on your chest, Cooper?” “I’m asking you to trust the man who kept you from the noose.” That had a little more weight to it. I didn’t like it, but Cooper had a point I couldn’t deny. Without him, I’d have been judged a sinner before the Lord and my bones would be resting in the dirt. His reassurance wasn’t much. But I suppose it might’ve been enough. “I’ll talk to Sarah. Have her set up a place for you to sleep and put out some grain for your horse. We leave tomorrow, at first light.” I said, “I’d like a word with whoever named Jonsey. I wanna be damn sure it’s him before we start poking around old hideouts.” Cooper's eyes lit up with a more familiar smile. “So, you’re in?” “If it’s Jonsey, then yeah. I’m in. Otherwise, you’re on your own.” I warned before I nudged my horse homeward. That answer seemed good enough for Cooper. I don’t look forward to riding out with him, I pray I’m wasting my time but my gut tells me I’m not. Cooper ain’t the sort of man to ride up into the Guadalupe Mountains on a whim. If he wasn’t damn sure it was Jonsey, then he wouldn’t have come to me. I know that old Jonsey ain’t gonna be too happy to see me. Most of me ain’t too happy at the prospect of seeing him either… But if I didn’t confess that some part of me wouldn’t relish watching him hang, I’d be a liar. That there’s still a piece of my old life that ain’t dead and buried doesn’t sit right with me. I wouldn’t mind rectifying that. June 10th, 1887 It’d been a long time since I’d left the mountains. San Antonio seemed a million miles away, and the ride was long. To say I enjoyed none of it though, would make me a liar. There’s a thrill I had long since forgotten about being on the road. Something about the emptiness in the desert calls to a man, beckons to him. For just a moment, I remembered that sense of the world belonging to me. It’d been a long time since I felt that, if nothing else it was good to feel it again. But for the first day or so, I couldn't help but glance back at the distant shape of the mountains, growing further and further away from me. My Sarah, my son, Jack… She told me she’d manage without me for a few weeks. I knew she would. But my boyish excitement for the open road ahead wasn’t enough to crush my doting worries. Cooper saw fit to tease me as we left the mountains. “Y’know I never would have pegged you the type to get homesick, Roy.” He’d said as we rode. I shot him the evil eye for that. “I’m used to keeping to myself.” I said, “Wasn’t too sure if the world had a place for my sort. Not many folks out there in the mountains. It’s quiet, peaceful.” “Your family doesn’t mind living that far away from the rest of the world?” “Sarah knows what I am and Jack don’t know nothing else. They manage.” I said, “We ain’t completely alone. There’s a small town a few miles west. They pay for fur and meat. It’s an honest living.” Cooper laughed, but I sensed no offense intended. “Shit, Roy. You really have straightened out. Gotta say, I’m glad to see it.” “And what about you, Marshal? Anyone waiting for you?” For just a moment, I could’ve sworn the humor had left him. His smile came back as quickly as it had left, albeit somewhat less genuine. “I tried marriage. It ain’t for me. I’m a hound dog. I like to chase.” “Ended up in another woman's bed, didja?” Now it was my turn to tease. “Not exactly. She wanted a man at home with her. But that ain’t where I belong.” He patted his horse on the neck, but his eyes were straight ahead, looking at the horizon. “Anyway. I meant no harm. I am happy for you. Truly I am. Truth be told, I figured I’d be seeing you again much sooner and under less pleasant circumstances.” “Well I am happy to disappoint you.” I replied. Cooper laughed again, a little more humor in it this time. “And I ain’t never been so happy to be disappointed in my life.” For the next few days, we rode together. Making our way into San Antonio. It had been years since I’d set foot there, and riding into town felt like trespassing on holy ground. I kept waiting for eyes to shift towards me to see my soul laid bare. But no one looked my way. No one knew who I was, why would they? The notion that they would was stupid and childish, but I could not quite shake it. Cooper seemed more at ease beside me. I suppose he would have been. He wasn’t a man with a burden. I thought I caught him watching me out of the corner of my eye, but if he was he never looked directly at me. Together we just rode through town and up to an unassuming little inn on a corner called the Lucky Pearl. The place was damn near empty, save for a few drunkards at the bar wallowing in the bottle. They didn’t pay us much mind as Cooper and I went inside. He nodded at the bartender, before gesturing for me to sit with him at the bar. “Afternoon Earl.” He said. “Couple of beers, please. And let Starkmann know we’re here.” The barman left us with a nod, and I gave Cooper the side-eye. “Starkmann?” I asked. “That the one who named Jonsey?” “His brother.” Cooper said, “Vladimir Starkmann. He’s a doctor up from Wisconsin. Came running as soon as he heard what happened to his kid brother. He’s been keeping an eye on him, helping me get information. The brother, Egor ain’t all there anymore…” The bartender returned with our beers and Cooper took a long pull on his. I could hear footsteps coming down the stairs behind us and looked over to see a well-dressed man approaching us. He was tall and almost too thin, with dark hair and a thick, groomed mustache. Starkmann, no doubt. “Marshal.” He said with a nod. I’d expected his voice to have an accent. It didn’t. Starkmanns eyes focused on me for a moment, inquisitive. Ultimately, he kept his questions to himself and spoke to the bartender. “Earl. A beer, please.” “Comin’ right up, Doctor Starkmann.” Cooper set his glass down and watched as the bartender left to fetch Starkman's drink. “So, Doc. How’s Egor holding up?” “No more coherent than he was a week ago.” Starkmann said, “I get more out of his drawings than I do the man himself…” His attention shifted to me, “I presume you’re Roy Wilson?” “The same,” I said and raised my glass in greeting. “Marshal says you might be able to find the man my brother drew. Can you?” “Well show me the drawing and I’ll tell you.” I replied, “Cooper didn’t say nothin’ about no drawing though.” “Egor hasn’t spoken a word since the robbery.” Cooper said, “Man was an artist by trade though… Whatever done messed with his head hasn’t quite taken that from him yet, and God willing he might soon make a full recovery. But for now, the best evidence I’ve got that it was Daniel Jones on that train is his drawing. Now I’m damn sure that it’s Jones. But you told me you wanted a word with whoever had named Jonsey. This is the next best thing.” “And this drawing is your only evidence?” I asked. “No, but it’s the most solid. A few of the more coherent folks who were on that train made mention of him. You can talk to ‘em, if you’d like. Assuming they didn’t skip town by now.” I scoffed and downed my beer. “Well. Let’s see this drawing then.” I said before getting up. Cooper quickly emptied his glass before following me and leading me up the stairs. “A drawing…” I said, “Shit, Marshal. You rode four days out to the Guadalupe mountains over a goddamn drawing?” “I rode four days out to the Guadalupe mountains for a man who might know where to find this sonofabitch.” Cooper corrected. He stopped in front of an unlocked door and knocked twice before opening it. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be sure. I already am. So. Go and take a look.” The conviction in his voice was hard to ignore. I traded a look with the Marshal before I stepped inside that room. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. Some frilly high society type, lounging on the bed by his watercolors, perhaps. That was what had come to mind when Cooper had said that Egor was an artist. What I hadn’t been anticipating was the half-naked, unwashed wretch staring vacantly out the dirty window, nor had I expected the scattered papers on the bed and the floor. A quick look confirmed that they were indeed pencil drawings, although exactly what they were drawings of wasn’t always clear. There were a few I recognized as landscapes. Trees, grass, brush, and mountains. There were portraits of folks. On the bed, I saw one of Cooper that might as well have been a photograph. Then there were countless drawings that just seemed… Odd. Most of them were of what looked to be some sort of horizon, and yet the sky looked to have been violently scribbled all over as if it were nighttime, save for one blank space in the center of the sky. A great big cross, like an X stretching across the horizon. So big it seemed to dominate the sky itself. There were countless variations of that same drawing, scattered amongst his more coherent work. Just what it meant, I couldn’t quite say for sure. Yet the sight of it sent a cold chill through me. It seemed… Wrong… Frightening, even. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at them. “On the desk.” Cooper said from behind me, and tore me away from my thoughts. I looked at the small wooden desk that Egor sat near and approached it. Sure enough, there was yet another pile of drawings. These looked to be of the inside of a train. There were folks standing over the passengers, guns drawn. Egor had perfectly captured the terrified expression of a woman in the midst of being robbed. He’d captured the little boy in her lap, crying and afraid. I pushed that picture aside to look at the next one. Like the last, it was also on a train. A man stood in a doorway, face cast in shadow and yet Egor had drawn features that I clearly recognized. My eyes narrowed as I moved to the next picture. That, and the next couple after it was of a man I hadn’t seen since the day I’d been shot off my horse. “He drew those after I tried to question him.” Cooper said, “Just… picked up his pencil and started drawing. Considering how the name Jonesy had already popped up, I just put two and two together.” I continued leafing through the drawings. There were more of the train robbery. I saw the shape of what I knew to be Jonsey standing in the aisle, gun drawn and staring at something coming through the door of the carriage. It was a figure of some sort, but I couldn’t make much if anything out on them. Egor had scratched out their face so violently he’d torn through the paper. “The hell happened to this one?” I asked, looking over at Cooper. “Hell if I know. He got to that point, and he got agitated. Started breathing all heavy and whatnot. Like he was scared or somethin’.” “You know anything about whoever else was on the train?” I asked. “Nope. Aside from Jonsey, I ain’t got no other names. Far as I know, he was one of the ones calling the shots. We find him, we find the rest of ‘em.” I could see Starkmann standing in the hall behind him, waiting for my verdict. “I presume you’re satisfied?” Cooper asked. “Yeah. Close as I can be.” I replied, “Where exactly did the train get hit? Could help us narrow down some possible hideouts.” Cooper took a folded map from his pocket and set it down on the desk. “Train was coming down from Oklahoma City. Now, from what we know they got hit southwest of Fort Worth. Just around here…” He gestured to a spot on the map and I leaned in for a better look. I racked my brain to dig up those old memories from ten years past. I studied the names of the smaller towns on the map before seeing one I recognized. Chestnut Springs. Back in the day, when I’d been running with Blake Hayes we’d heard about some wealthy something or other headed down that way. Some cattle baron, looking for land. We’d ambushed his coach just outside of Chestnut Springs. I remembered that the robbery had gone bad. The bastard had pulled a gun on Blake and he didn’t take kindly to that. The second he saw the iron in that poor bastard's hand, he blew him away and left him in the dirt. Then when his widow raised a fuss, she joined him, along with their driver. I still remember the pop of the gunshot and that uneasy silence as the wife's screams echoed through the night, before fading into oblivion. Blake had a friend in the area, a fella he’d served with during the war. He owned a ranch just a few miles northeast. We’d laid low there for a time, until Blake decided it was safe enough to move on. There was no immediate sign of that ranch on the map, but I remembered the name. “Stone Acres.” I said, “It’s a little ranch outside of Chestnut Springs, owned by a fella by the name of Dick Roberts. He’d served with Blake back in the day. I’m damn sure he’d served with Jonsey too. It’s in that area. If I were Jonsey, that’s where I’d go.” “Stone Acres…” Cooper repeated, “Well alright then. Anything else in that area?” “Not that I know of. Blake mainly stayed a little further south, closer to the border. Even if he ain’t there, Roberts might be able to tell us where he might be. That main wasn’t no honest rancher ten years ago and I’m willing to bet that ain’t changed.” “Safe bet.” Cooper said as he folded up his map again, “Don’t suppose you could find your way back there, could you?” “Get me to Chestnut Springs and I could.” I said, “I suppose we’re riding tomorrow?” “Damn right we are.” “I don’t suppose you boys could use another gun, could you?” Starkmann asked. His voice drew my attention. He’d been waiting patiently by the door, watching us in silence. “You offering?” Cooper asked. “As a matter of fact, I am.” “What about your brother?” “He doesn’t need me standing over him. I can arrange for his care here until I return. But if you’re going after the folks who left Egor in this state, then I’m in. I can handle a gun, and I know how to treat a gunshot wound.” Cooper chuckled, his boyish grin returning. “Well then, Doctor Starkmann, I must admit I like your spirit.” He said, “If you’re obliged to join us, please. Feel free to do so. However, just know that I aim to take Daniel Jones and his men alive and see them hang in San Antonio. That won’t be a problem, will it?” “Whether he hangs or we shoot him, he’ll find his way to hell one way or another.” Starkmann replied. He looked over at me, and I offered no argument. “Not a bad way of looking at it. Cooper said. Well then gentlemen, get your rest in. I’ll make arrangements to get us to Chestnut Springs tomorrow, and with luck we’ll have Mr. Jones in the ground within a few days. Just like old times, huh Roy?” I supposed it was. We’ll set out for Chestnut Springs soon. I don’t much mind the lack of respite. I truly do hope we find Jonsey at that ranch and if we do, if we bring him in I might just stay and watch him hang. Wouldn’t hurt to see the last link to my past die. If anything I’d say I might just sleep a little better at night. June 11th, 1887 We departed from San Antonio by train after a moderate breakfast this morning. Cooper had said he wanted to waste as little time making it to Chestnut Springs as possible. The train ride into Fort Worth took about half of the day, and we stopped only briefly there before making our way to Chestnut Springs. The ride was about three or four hours. The sun crept across the sky as Cooper, Starkmann and I drew closer to the town and when we got there, we barely even stayed to rest before setting out for Stone Acres. I knew my way back alright. While my memory of the landscape was not perfect, it was good enough. The sun was getting low on the horizon, giving it the purple color of a bruise. I looked at the sky and somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered those odd drawings in Egor Starkmanns room. Just thinking of them made my head feel numb like there was some distant droning and I could feel my heart race with anxiety that seemed out of place. I chalked it up to the anticipation. After all, Jonsey was not likely to go down easy. More than likely, if he was at the ranch this was going to end in gunfire. Even if we caught him off guard, he’d look for a way to fight. Of that much, I was certain. Dusk was upon us as we reached the old ranch. We hadn’t spoken much during the ride over. I suspected Cooper and Starkmann had that same heavy sensation in their guts as I did. Cooper especially had to have expected the same resistance I’d expected. His Winchester was slung up over his back and his characteristic boyish grin was absent. Starkmann was difficult to read already and the stoniness in his face didn’t make things much easier. “We’re getting real close,” I said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled in between the three of us. I gestured to a small cluster of trees nearby, with a farmhouse just barely visible past them. “I remember that place. Dick’s ranch wasn’t too far.” “Perfect. We’ll catch ‘em at nighttime then.” Cooper replied. It wasn’t long after that, that we spotted the distant shape of a building. A familiar ranch that had hardly changed in over a decade. “There she is.” I said under my breath and coaxed my horse to a stop. “Lights are all out over there.” Starkmann noted, “Looks to me like nobody’s home.” “Or they’re sleeping.” Cooper replied. He rode on ahead, closing the distance to the ranch. “Either way, I aim to be sure.” I followed him, with Starkmann at our rear. We moved slowly down the dirt road into the ranch. An unbecoming silence broken only by the sound of our own hoofbeats was what greeted us. No cattle, no sound at all. “A ranch with no animals…” Starkmann murmured, “Promising indeed. This place is abandoned, Marshal.” “Well, maybe they left us somethin’ good.” Cooper replied. He’d reached the door and dismounted his horse. He took his Winchester and went to go and knock. As he did, I dropped to the ground. Starkmann just shook his head and stayed up on his horse. “I’ll check the barn.” I said, “See if there ain’t anything worthwhile in there.” Cooper nodded, before glancing over at Starkmann. “Go and keep him company, doctor. You two holler if you see anything.” Without a word, Starkmann dismounted his horse and followed me. Together, we rounded the ranch and headed for the barn. I drew my iron just in case. My backup declined to do the same. “You expecting some kind of fight?” He asked, half-mocking. “There’s nothing out here.” “And you don’t find that suspicious?” I asked. “Roberts was a sonofabitch but he had a good thing going here. If there turns out to be absolutely nothin’ out here… I might find that a little strange, wouldn’t you?” Starkmann’s expression softened just a bit. “Lookit this place…” I said, “Lookit the paint on the walls. The windows. What do you see? Paint looks nice. No cracks in the windows. Hell, I can still smell the cattle. If this place is abandoned, it hasn’t been for very long.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Starkmann finally drawing his own iron as we closed in on the barn. It was as we got closer that the smell hit me. A stink that I knew all too well. Decay. Something was rotting in there, and judging by the look on Starkmann’s face he recognized that stink as well. “Jesus… The fuck is that?” I muttered to myself. Starkmann had no reply, and yet I think I caught his step slowing just a bit. There was an unease in his eyes that matched my own. The stench was heavy, almost to the point of being overpowering. I’d come across countless rotten carcasses in my time, yet this seemed like so much more. Trying not to breathe, I pushed the barn door open and looked into the yawning darkness. The overpowering rush of that godawful smell was powerful enough to make me retch. “Jesus Christ.” Starkmann growled, “I suppose we’ve found the cattle, then.” “Suppose we have…” I replied. In the dark, I could see an immobile shape of some sort, but just what it was I couldn’t clearly make out. In the low light, I spotted the shape of a lamp hung on the wall and grabbed it. “You got a light, doctor?” Starkmann produced a match without comment and lit the lantern for me. I almost found myself wishing he hadn’t. As the feeble orange light was cast over the inside of the barn, I felt something in my chest lurch. At last, we caught sight of the bodies that had produced that awful stench… although to give a name to what we saw wouldn’t be easy. There were… Parts of it, I recognized as distinctly animal. Cloven hooves, bent at the odd angles and jutting out of the mass of flesh that sat in the barn. Blood and pus seeped out from stitched together hides that looked to be from horses or cows. The empty eyes of what was left of a horse head were fixated on me, reflecting the glow of my lantern. Yet that ‘head’ seemed to only be most of the hide, which had been mounted onto some sort of mutilated bull's skull. The horns jutted through holes in the hide. An army of flies buzzed angrily around that horrific mass of flesh. It was as if some sick bastard had stitched together all that had been slaughtered on that ranch and I couldn’t bring myself to look at it for long. “Jesus Christ…” I spat before turning away. Starkmann just continued to stare at that monstrosity. “What the hell kind of person does a thing like this…” He murmured, “Jesus. There’s a dog too. Crucified. Strung up from the ceiling…” “Well, I’d rather not see that if it’s all the same to you.” I replied, “Goddamnit…” “Your friend Jonsey. I don’t suppose this was his work?” “His work?” I asked, before struggling to laugh. “My good sir, I am not aware of a single person on God's green earth capable of-" I was cut off by a loud exhale and the scrape of movement. From the corner of my eye, I saw that the twisted mass of flesh begin to move. The disjointed limbs seemed to stretch before finding purchase on the floor of the barn. The carcass seemed to pulsate, as I heard it breathe. Never before had I felt my blood run cold, but in that moment I did. Starkmann stood beside me, frozen in a silent horror that matched my own as the mutilated thing before us began to stand. Several legs supported its weight, and amongst them, I was sure I spotted human legs, stitched to the body like the rest. The mutilated head, horsehide sewn onto a bull's skull lifted upwards on a skinless neck. The naked flesh seemed to strain just by lifting it. The creature exhaled, and blood dribbled out of its bony nostrils. The eyes fixated on us, studying us as we remained rooted to the spot. Starkmann was the first to move, hastily raising his iron and squeezing off three shots. The creature only barely reacted, twitching as if annoyed. Its black eyes fixated on him before it let out a strained growl that sounded like countless creatures groaning in agony. Then, massive and spider-like it began to move. With speed that should not have been possible for a creature of its bulk, it lunged for Starkmann, lowering its head like a charging bull. He only barely stumbled out of the way before it reached him. In my panic, I’d forgotten the gun in my hand. My only instinct was to shoot, and that’s what I did. I squeezed off two shots towards that abomination. I could see its skin splitting as it turned to look at me. Rotten entrails spilled out of its new wounds as it bellowed at me. From the upper floor window of the house, I saw the flash of gunfire and briefly caught a glimpse of Cooper, poised in the window and unloading his Winchester on that damned thing. It hardly reacted at all. Its movements were sluggish and slow. Decaying meat trailed behind it as it moved. Its sights remained set on me before it charged once more, skittering like a massive bug. It slammed its head into the dirt where I had once been. One of its horns snapped and flew off. Part of its skull was shattered but the abomination did not relent. Waving its head like a goddamn flail it tried to pursue me again. I could hear the crack of Starkmann’s pistol and Cooper's rifle. The thing paid them no mind. As it reared for another charge, I launched the lantern at it. It shattered on the creature's body, and it went up like a candle. One moment, it was an abhorrent shape in the darkness but the next it was a towering inferno of flame. A twisted abomination screaming in the voices of a herd of cattle, screaming in the voices of dead horses and I swear in amongst those cries I heard the screams of a man. I stumbled backward, putting as much distance between myself and the flailing colossus of fire that struggled to put itself out. It blindly thrashed and squirmed, oily black smoke billowing off of its body. Then, its weight gave out beneath it. I saw it fall, legs splayed and twisted. Its body seemed to collapse in on itself as it broke apart with one final, dying scream that pierced my ears… And then, all was silent once more. Starkmann and I stood and watched the burning carcass, dumbstruck and pale as the grave. Cooper stood in the window, panting heavily as he looked down at the abomination we had just slain. This was not what we had anticipated, and in that moment a single thought occupied my mind. ‘Jonsey… What the hell did you do?’
Journal of Roy Wilson June 6th, 1887 Had I never again set eyes upon Marshal Harrison Cooper, it would have been far too soon. Though I cannot rightly claim to have ever hated the man, for indeed all that I had was on account of his mercy, I had hoped that when we last had parted we would never cross paths again. Perhaps had fate been kinder, our reunion may have been a peaceful one. A chance encounter that brought with it no ghosts of the past. However, I learned long ago that fate is not kind, it is cruel and spiteful. That I ever forgot the simple truth of that is solely on myself. In my youth, I saw the world as something I could take for myself. I was a fool, a stupid boy with a gun and a steady hand. That was why I joined up with the likes of Blake Hayes. Blake saw himself as some guerilla in a war that had never quite ended. He’d been a confederate man a few years back, and most of those who’d followed him had served with him back in the day. Blake was the sort who talked of freedom. He saw himself as a folk hero, and I was young and stupid enough to buy into his bullshit. For five good years, he gave me what I wanted. Freedom. For five years, I lived outside of the law, thinking that I was invincible. Looking back now, I can say that it felt like fifty and I was sure it wasn’t never gonna end. Until it did. We’d hit a bank in some small, nowhere town. It was supposed to be easy money. Nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before. The hit score itself didn’t go bad at all. Hell, if it hadn’t been for one little hitch that life would never have ended as it did. But life’s full of little hitches, ain’t it? Little accidents that can change everything in the blink of an eye. I still don’t quite know what happened. One minute I was on my horse, right behind Blake and some of the other boys. The next I was in the dirt, hurting all over. My horse was still running but I wasn’t. My shoulder was bleeding, and coming up on me were the folks my associates and I had just finished robbing. That was how Marshal Cooper found me, locked up in the jail of some shithole town, waiting on a trial that would almost certainly send me to the noose. I would’ve done anything to avoid that, and I reckon that Cooper knew that. He cut me a deal. My life for Blakes, and his men. The choice was obvious. I led Cooper and a posse of lawmen to where I knew the boys had gone to lay low. Hell, I put a bullet in a few of my former ‘friends’ myself. I ain’t never been proud of turning traitor, but I know that had positions been reversed Blake would’ve sold me out just as quickly. Besides, that feeling of invincibility was gone. Having seen the inside of a cell and heard folks talk about stringing me up, that life outside of the law didn’t look so good anymore. Just about anyone who I’d run with had either died when the law came for them or sentenced to die when they’d been brought in. It was as close to a clean slate as I was likely to get. I took it, and I never looked back. For what little it is worth, Cooper had the good sense to find me out in the wilderness, away from any who might overhear the business we had to attend to. This morning I had set out to hunt for elk. I had tracked a small group of them, split off from the rest of the herd. My intent was only to kill one, for the sake of the meat and indeed I had chosen my target and had it well within my sights as I lined up my shot. It strode through the brush, head held high and proud. It stopped briefly to nip at the ground, leaving only its antlers visible. Once its head was up, I had my shot and I took it. My aim was true. The gunshot rang out through the mountains, startling the other elk in the group. They ran, mine could not. It fell and hit the ground hard. I rose from my spot amongst the brush and started towards the dead beast. From a distance, I could see its chest rising and falling violently as it tried to cling to life. By the time I reached it, its breathing had slowed. One eye was fixed on me as I took out my knife. Its hooves moved as if it wanted to run, but that elk was all but dead. I cut its throat to help it along, then started on taking it apart. That was the point where I realized I wasn’t alone. When I heard movement in the brush behind me, I went for my rifle. I was greeted by the last face I wanted to see. Harrison Cooper. The ten years since I’d seen him had been kind. Pretty as a picture he was, blond hair and a heavy jawline, like a cowboy you might see in some dime book. “Well hello to you too, Roy.” He said as if we’d last seen each other only yesterday. “Marshal,” I replied, lowering my rifle. Cooper wasn’t the sort to kill a man in cold blood, but I wasn’t fixing to provoke him either. “You’re awful far from San Antonio, ain’t you?” “Afraid I am.” He replied, “You’re looking good, Roy. Making an honest living, I hear.” “I am. And I’ve done so ever since you and I concluded our past business with Blake Hayes.” I spit in the dirt. “I’ve heard that too.” The Marshal said. “You can relax, Roy. I ain’t here for you.” “Then what are you here for? I don’t suppose you went and got lost now, did’ja?” “Afraid not.” He said. The smile he gave almost looked apologetic. Almost. He dismounted his horse and approached my kill. He looked down at the elk, before huffing. “Suppose I help you get this back to your place? Maybe you and I might have a chat on the way there.” I took him on that offer and it might’ve been the dumbest thing I ever did. “I don’t suppose you remember a fella by the name of Jones, Daniel Jones.” He asked as we rode back through the brush. Cooper rode beside me, leaving me uneasy. All the same, I answered his question. “Jonsey. I remember him. One of Blake's crew.” I said, “Crazy as a shithouse rat, if I recall. I would’ve figured he’d have hung with Blake.” “Now if it had been that simple, I wouldn’t have stopped by to visit.” Cooper replied. “That yellow bastard got out before the hanging. Ran off into the wind. Last I’d heard, he’d headed northeast, up around Massachusetts.” “If he was still up in Massachusetts, you wouldn’t be here.” Cooper laughed. “No, I suppose not.” He said, “There was an… unusual incident, about two weeks back. A train robbery to put it simply. I’ve got a few folks that name Jones as the one behind it.” “What exactly do you mean by unusual?” I asked. “There were 76 souls on that train. Every single one of them was alive when the train made it into the station… Only three of them have said anything about the robbery. The rest don’t talk no more. Not a single word. The ones who are still alive are dead silent and pale as the grave.” “I thought you said they were all alive.” I said. “Well they were when the train came in. Over the next few days though, thirty of them just dropped. Not quite sure why. I’ve heard people whispering of plague, but I ain’t quite sure I buy that. Just what else it may be, I can’t tell you. But I’ve got a feeling in my gut that Jones is responsible.” I rode in silence, letting all that Cooper had said sink in before shaking my head. “Well there, Marshal. Looks to me like you’ve got quite a vexing situation on your hands… I don’t think your man is old Jonsey, though. If that old sonofabitch had the brains to plan a train heist I would be well and truly surprised.” I could see Cooper's expression darken from the corner of my eye. “Daniel Jones is the only name I’ve got. If he wasn’t the one behind it, I’m sure he was involved. You both ran with Blake back in the day. You might know where he’s holed up. I ain’t asking for much, Roy. But I ain’t got no idea what I’m looking at right now besides Jones and you’re the only man I know who might help me find him.” There was a desperation in Cooper's voice that gave me pause. I noticed his friendly cowboy act drop. Just for long enough for me to see that the man was genuinely unnerved. Something about that sent a chill through me as well. “I’m asking nicely, Roy.” He said, “I don’t know if I’ve got any other options.” Up ahead, I could see my cabin. I stopped my horse and stared at it in silence. “I ain’t a man I used to be, Cooper.” I said, “That man you cut a deal with ten years back, the one who helped you take down Blake? That was an outlaw with nothing left to lose, looking for a way out. Back then, I would’ve been alright going down trying to take out Blake. It ain’t the same now. I’m a hunter now. I’ve got a wife and a boy. If I don’t come home…” Cooper was silent. He stared at the cabin alongside me. “I ain’t asking you to fight him.” He finally said, “Just help me find him and I promise you, you’ll come home in one piece.” “You’re asking me to trust that shiny badge on your chest, Cooper?” “I’m asking you to trust the man who kept you from the noose.” That had a little more weight to it. I didn’t like it, but Cooper had a point I couldn’t deny. Without him, I’d have been judged a sinner before the Lord and my bones would be resting in the dirt. His reassurance wasn’t much. But I suppose it might’ve been enough. “I’ll talk to Sarah. Have her set up a place for you to sleep and put out some grain for your horse. We leave tomorrow, at first light.” I said, “I’d like a word with whoever named Jonsey. I wanna be damn sure it’s him before we start poking around old hideouts.” Cooper's eyes lit up with a more familiar smile. “So, you’re in?” “If it’s Jonsey, then yeah. I’m in. Otherwise, you’re on your own.” I warned before I nudged my horse homeward. That answer seemed good enough for Cooper. I don’t look forward to riding out with him, I pray I’m wasting my time but my gut tells me I’m not. Cooper ain’t the sort of man to ride up into the Guadalupe Mountains on a whim. If he wasn’t damn sure it was Jonsey, then he wouldn’t have come to me. I know that old Jonsey ain’t gonna be too happy to see me. Most of me ain’t too happy at the prospect of seeing him either… But if I didn’t confess that some part of me wouldn’t relish watching him hang, I’d be a liar. That there’s still a piece of my old life that ain’t dead and buried doesn’t sit right with me. I wouldn’t mind rectifying that. June 10th, 1887 It’d been a long time since I’d left the mountains. San Antonio seemed a million miles away, and the ride was long. To say I enjoyed none of it though, would make me a liar. There’s a thrill I had long since forgotten about being on the road. Something about the emptiness in the desert calls to a man, beckons to him. For just a moment, I remembered that sense of the world belonging to me. It’d been a long time since I felt that, if nothing else it was good to feel it again. But for the first day or so, I couldn't help but glance back at the distant shape of the mountains, growing further and further away from me. My Sarah, my son, Jack… She told me she’d manage without me for a few weeks. I knew she would. But my boyish excitement for the open road ahead wasn’t enough to crush my doting worries. Cooper saw fit to tease me as we left the mountains. “Y’know I never would have pegged you the type to get homesick, Roy.” He’d said as we rode. I shot him the evil eye for that. “I’m used to keeping to myself.” I said, “Wasn’t too sure if the world had a place for my sort. Not many folks out there in the mountains. It’s quiet, peaceful.” “Your family doesn’t mind living that far away from the rest of the world?” “Sarah knows what I am and Jack don’t know nothing else. They manage.” I said, “We ain’t completely alone. There’s a small town a few miles west. They pay for fur and meat. It’s an honest living.” Cooper laughed, but I sensed no offense intended. “Shit, Roy. You really have straightened out. Gotta say, I’m glad to see it.” “And what about you, Marshal? Anyone waiting for you?” For just a moment, I could’ve sworn the humor had left him. His smile came back as quickly as it had left, albeit somewhat less genuine. “I tried marriage. It ain’t for me. I’m a hound dog. I like to chase.” “Ended up in another woman's bed, didja?” Now it was my turn to tease. “Not exactly. She wanted a man at home with her. But that ain’t where I belong.” He patted his horse on the neck, but his eyes were straight ahead, looking at the horizon. “Anyway. I meant no harm. I am happy for you. Truly I am. Truth be told, I figured I’d be seeing you again much sooner and under less pleasant circumstances.” “Well I am happy to disappoint you.” I replied. Cooper laughed again, a little more humor in it this time. “And I ain’t never been so happy to be disappointed in my life.” For the next few days, we rode together. Making our way into San Antonio. It had been years since I’d set foot there, and riding into town felt like trespassing on holy ground. I kept waiting for eyes to shift towards me to see my soul laid bare. But no one looked my way. No one knew who I was, why would they? The notion that they would was stupid and childish, but I could not quite shake it. Cooper seemed more at ease beside me. I suppose he would have been. He wasn’t a man with a burden. I thought I caught him watching me out of the corner of my eye, but if he was he never looked directly at me. Together we just rode through town and up to an unassuming little inn on a corner called the Lucky Pearl. The place was damn near empty, save for a few drunkards at the bar wallowing in the bottle. They didn’t pay us much mind as Cooper and I went inside. He nodded at the bartender, before gesturing for me to sit with him at the bar. “Afternoon Earl.” He said. “Marshal.” The Barman replied, “What can I get you two?” “Couple of beers. And let Starkmann know we’re here.” Earl the barman left us with a nod, and I gave Cooper the side eye. “Starkmann?” I asked. “That the one who named Jonsey?” “His brother.” Cooper said, “Vladimir Starkmann. He’s a doctor up from Wisconsin. Came running as soon as he heard what happened to his kid brother. He’s been keeping an eye on him, helping me get information. The brother, Egor ain’t all there anymore… You’ll see.” The bartender returned with our beers and Cooper took a long pull on his. I could hear footsteps coming down the stairs behind us and looked over my shoulder to see a well-dressed man approaching us. He was tall and almost too thin, with dark hair and a thick, groomed moustache. I figured that was probably Starkmann, and I was proven right when he took a seat beside Cooper. “Marshal.” He said with a nod. I’d expected his voice to have an accent. It didn’t. Starkmanns eyes focused on me for a moment, inquisitive. Ultimately, he kept his questions to himself and spoke to the bartender. “Earl. A beer, please.” “Comin’ right up, Doctor Starkmann.” Cooper set his glass down and watched as the bartender left to fetch Starkman's drink. “So, Doc. How’s Egor holding up?” “No more coherent than he was a week ago.” Starkmann said, “I get more out of his drawings than I do the man himself…” His attention shifted to me, “I presume you’re Roy Wilson?” “The same.” I said and raised my glass in greeting. “Marshal says you might be able to find the man my brother drew. Can you?” “Well show me the drawing and I’ll tell you.” I replied, “Cooper didn’t say nothin’ about no drawing though.” “Egor hasn’t spoken a word since the robbery.” Cooper said, “Man was an artist by trade though… Whatever done messed with his head hasn’t quite taken that from him yet, and God willing he might soon make a full recovery. But for now, the best evidence I’ve got that it was Daniel Jones on that train is his drawing. Now I’m damn sure that it’s Jones. But you told me you wanted a word with whoever had named Jonsey. This is the next best thing.” “And this drawing is your only evidence?” I asked. “No, but it’s the most solid. A few of the more coherent folks who were on that train made mention of him. You can talk to ‘em, if you’d like. Assuming they didn’t skip town by now.” I scoffed and downed my beer. “Well. Let’s see this drawing then.” I said before getting up. Cooper quickly emptied his glass before following me and leading me up the stairs. “A drawing…” I said, “Shit, Marshal. You rode four days out to the Guadalupe mountains over a goddamn drawing?” “I rode four days out to the Guadalupe mountains for a man who might know where to find this sonofabitch.” Cooper corrected. He stopped in front of an unlocked door and knocked twice before opening it. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be sure. I already am. So. Go and take a look.” The conviction in his voice was hard to ignore. I traded a look with the Marshal before I stepped inside that room. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. Some frilly high society type, lounging on the bed by his watercolors, perhaps. That was what had come to mind when Cooper had said that Egor was an artist. What I hadn’t been anticipating was the half-naked, unwashed wretch staring vacantly out the dirty window, nor had I expected the scattered papers on the bed and the floor. A quick look confirmed that they were indeed pencil drawings, although exactly what they were drawings of wasn’t always clear. There were a few I recognized as landscapes. Trees, grass, brush, and mountains. There were portraits of folks. On the bed, I saw one of Cooper that might as well have been a photograph. Then there were countless drawings that just seemed… Odd. Most of them were of what looked to be some sort of horizon, and yet the sky looked to have been violently scribbled all over as if it were nighttime, save for one blank space in the center of the sky. A great big cross, like an X stretching across the horizon. So big it seemed to dominate the sky itself. There were countless variations of that same drawing, scattered amongst his more coherent work. Just what it meant, I couldn’t quite say for sure. Yet the sight of it sent a cold chill through me. It seemed… Wrong… Frightening, even. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at them. “On the desk.” Cooper said from behind me, and tore me away from my thoughts. I looked at the small wooden desk that Egor sat near and approached it. Sure enough, there was yet another pile of drawings. These looked to be of the inside of a train. There were folks standing over the passengers, guns drawn. Egor had perfectly captured the terrified expression of a woman in the midst of being robbed. He’d captured the little boy in her lap, crying and afraid. I pushed that picture aside to look at the next one. Like the last, it was also on a train. A man stood in a doorway, face cast in shadow and yet Egor had drawn features that I clearly recognized. My eyes narrowed as I moved to the next picture. That, and the next couple after it was of a man I hadn’t seen since the day I’d been shot off my horse. “He drew those after I tried to question him.” Cooper said, “Just… picked up his pencil and started drawing. Considering how the name Jonesy had already popped up, I just put two and two together.” I continued leafing through the drawings. There were more of the train robbery. I saw the shape of what I knew to be Jonsey standing in the aisle, gun drawn and staring at something coming through the door of the carriage. It was a figure of some sort, but I couldn’t make much if anything out on them. Egor had scratched out their face so violently he’d torn through the paper. “The hell happened to this one?” I asked, looking over at Cooper. “Hell if I know. He got to that point, and he got agitated. Started breathing all heavy and whatnot. Like he was scared or somethin’.” “You know anything about whoever else was on the train?” I asked. “Nope. Aside from Jonsey, I ain’t got no other names. Far as I know, he was one of the ones calling the shots. We find him, we find the rest of ‘em.” I could see Starkmann standing in the hall behind him, waiting for my verdict. “I presume you’re satisfied?” Cooper asked. “Yeah. Close as I can be.” I replied, “Where exactly did the train get hit? Could help us narrow down some possible hideouts.” Cooper took a folded map from his pocket and set it down on the desk. “Train was coming down from Oklahoma City. Now, from what we know they got hit southwest of Fort Worth. Just around here…” He gestured to a spot on the map and I leaned in for a better look. I racked my brain to dig up those old memories from ten years past. I studied the names of the smaller towns on the map before seeing one I recognized. Chestnut Springs. Back in the day, when I’d been running with Blake Hayes we’d heard about some wealthy something or other headed down that way. Some cattle baron, looking for land. We’d ambushed his coach just outside of Chestnut Springs. I remembered that the robbery had gone bad. The bastard had pulled a gun on Blake and he didn’t take kindly to that. The second he saw the iron in that poor bastard's hand, he blew him away and left him in the dirt. Then when his widow raised a fuss, she joined him, along with their driver. I still remember the pop of the gunshot and that uneasy silence as the wife's screams echoed through the night, before fading into oblivion. Blake had a friend in the area, a fella he’d served with during the war. He owned a ranch just a few miles northeast. We’d laid low there for a time, until Blake decided it was safe enough to move on. There was no immediate sign of that ranch on the map, but I remembered the name. “Stone Acres.” I said, “It’s a little ranch outside of Chestnut Springs, owned by a fella by the name of Dick Roberts. He’d served with Blake back in the day. I’m damn sure he’d served with Jonsey too. It’s in that area. If I were Jonsey, that’s where I’d go.” “Stone Acres…” Cooper repeated, “Well alright then. Anything else in that area?” “Not that I know of. Blake mainly stayed a little further south, closer to the border. Even if he ain’t there, Roberts might be able to tell us where he might be. That main wasn’t no honest rancher ten years ago and I’m willing to bet that ain’t changed.” “Safe bet.” Cooper said as he folded up his map again, “Don’t suppose you could find your way back there, could you?” “Get me to Chestnut Springs and I could.” I said, “I suppose we’re riding tomorrow?” “Damn right we are.” “I don’t suppose you boys could use another gun, could you?” Starkmann asked. His voice drew my attention. He’d been waiting patiently by the door, watching us in silence. “You offering?” Cooper asked. “As a matter of fact, I am.” “What about your brother?” “He doesn’t need me standing over him. I can arrange for his care here until I return. But if you’re going after the folks who left Egor in this state, then I’m in. I can handle a gun, and I know how to treat a gunshot wound.” Cooper chuckled, his boyish grin returning. “Well then, Doctor Starkmann, I must admit I like your spirit.” He said, “If you’re obliged to join us, please. Feel free to do so. However, just know that I aim to take Daniel Jones and his men alive and see them hang in San Antonio. That won’t be a problem, will it?” “Whether he hangs or we shoot him, he’ll find his way to hell one way or another.” Starkmann replied. He looked over at me, and I offered no argument. “Not a bad way of looking at it. Cooper said. Well then gentlemen, I believe you had all best get your rest in. I’ll make arrangements to get us to Chestnut Springs tomorrow, and with luck we’ll have Mr. Jones in the ground within a few days. Just like old times, huh Roy?” I didn’t answer that and Cooper gave Starkmann a playful pat on the shoulder before leaving. Starkman's eyes focused on me, intense and a tad unnerving. “You’re sure this Jones fella is at that ranch?” “Can’t be completely sure.” I said, “But you’re a man of science, right? Let’s call it a hypothesis.” “Hypothesis.” Starkmann repeated, unamused. “I suppose we’ll see about that.” I suppose we will indeed. We’ll set out for Chestnut Springs soon. I don’t much mind the lack of respite. I truly do hope we find Jonsey at that ranch and if we do, if we bring him in I might just stay and watch him hang. Wouldn’t hurt to see the last link to my past die. If anything I’d say I might just sleep a little better at night. June 11th, 1887 We departed from San Antonio by train after a moderate breakfast this morning. Cooper had said he wanted to waste as little time making it to Chestnut Springs as possible. The train ride into Fort Worth took about half of the day, and we stopped only briefly there before making our way to Chestnut Springs. The ride was about three or four hours. The sun crept across the sky as Cooper, Starkmann and I drew closer to the town and when we got there, we barely even stayed to rest before setting out for Stone Acres. I knew my way back alright. While my memory of the landscape was not perfect, it was good enough. The sun was getting low on the horizon, giving it the purple color of a bruise. I looked at the sky and somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered those odd drawings in Egor Starkmanns room. Just thinking of them made my head feel numb like there was some distant droning and I could feel my heart race with anxiety that seemed out of place. I chalked it up to the anticipation. After all, Jonsey was not likely to go down easy. More than likely, if he was at the ranch this was going to end in gunfire. Even if we caught him off guard, he’d look for a way to fight. Of that much, I was certain. Dusk was upon us as we reached the old ranch. We hadn’t spoken much during the ride over. I suspected Cooper and Starkmann had that same heavy sensation in their guts as I did. Cooper especially had to have expected the same resistance I’d expected. His Winchester was slung up over his back and his characteristic boyish grin was absent. Starkmann was difficult to read already and the stoniness in his face didn’t make things much easier. “We’re getting real close,” I said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled in between the three of us. I gestured to a small cluster of trees nearby, with a farmhouse just barely visible past them. “I remember that place. Dick’s ranch wasn’t too far.” “Perfect. We’ll catch ‘em at nighttime then.” Cooper replied. It wasn’t long after that, that we spotted the distant shape of a building. A familiar ranch that had hardly changed in over a decade. “There she is.” I said under my breath and coaxed my horse to a stop. “Lights are all out over there.” Starkmann noted, “Looks to me like nobody’s home.” “Or they’re sleeping.” Cooper replied. He rode on ahead, closing the distance to the ranch. “Either way, I aim to be sure.” I followed him, with Starkmann at our rear. We moved slowly down the dirt road into the ranch. An unbecoming silence broken only by the sound of our own hoofbeats was what greeted us. No cattle, no sound at all. “A ranch with no animals…” Starkmann murmured, “Promising indeed. This place is abandoned, Marshal.” “Well, maybe they left us somethin’ good.” Cooper replied. He’d reached the door and dismounted his horse. He took his Winchester and went to go and knock. As he did, I dropped to the ground. Starkmann just shook his head and stayed up on his horse. “I’ll check the barn.” I said, “See if there ain’t anything worthwhile in there.” Cooper nodded, before glancing over at Starkmann. “Go and keep him company, doctor. You two holler if you see anything.” Without a word, Starkmann dismounted his horse and followed me. Together, we rounded the ranch and headed for the barn. I drew my iron just in case. My backup declined to do the same. “You expecting some kind of fight?” He asked, half-mocking. “There’s nothing out here.” “And you don’t find that suspicious?” I asked. “Roberts was a sonofabitch but he had a good thing going here. If there turns out to be absolutely nothin’ out here… I might find that a little strange, wouldn’t you?” Starkmann’s expression softened just a bit. “Lookit this place…” I said, “Lookit the paint on the walls. The windows. What do you see? Paint looks nice. No cracks in the windows. Hell, I can still smell the cattle. If this place is abandoned, it hasn’t been for very long.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Starkmann finally drawing his own iron as we closed in on the barn. It was as we got closer that the smell hit me. A stink that I knew all too well. Decay. Something was rotting in there, and judging by the look on Starkmann’s face he recognized that stink as well. “Jesus… The fuck is that?” I muttered to myself. Starkmann had no reply, and yet I think I caught his step slowing just a bit. There was an unease in his eyes that matched my own. The stench was heavy, almost to the point of being overpowering. I’d come across countless rotten carcasses in my time, yet this seemed like so much more. Trying not to breathe, I pushed the barn door open and looked into the yawning darkness. The overpowering rush of that godawful smell was powerful enough to make me retch. “Jesus Christ.” Starkmann growled, “I suppose we’ve found the cattle, then.” “Suppose we have…” I replied. In the dark, I could see an immobile shape of some sort, but just what it was I couldn’t clearly make out. In the low light, I spotted the shape of a lamp hung on the wall and grabbed it. “You got a light, doctor?” Starkmann produced a match without comment and lit the lantern for me. I almost found myself wishing he hadn’t. As the feeble orange light was cast over the inside of the barn, I felt something in my chest lurch. At last, we caught sight of the bodies that had produced that awful stench… although to give a name to what we saw wouldn’t be easy. There were… Parts of it, I recognized as distinctly animal. Cloven hooves, bent at the odd angles and jutting out of the mass of flesh that sat in the barn. Blood and pus seeped out from stitched together hides that looked to be from horses or cows. The empty eyes of what was left of a horse head were fixated on me, reflecting the glow of my lantern. Yet that ‘head’ seemed to only be most of the hide, which had been mounted onto some sort of mutilated bull's skull. The horns jutted through holes in the hide. An army of flies buzzed angrily around that horrific mass of flesh. It was as if some sick bastard had stitched together all that had been slaughtered on that ranch and I couldn’t bring myself to look at it for long. “Jesus Christ…” I spat before turning away. Starkmann just continued to stare at that monstrosity. “What the hell kind of person does a thing like this…” He murmured, “Jesus. There’s a dog too. Crucified. Strung up from the ceiling…” “Well, I’d rather not see that if it’s all the same to you.” I replied, “Goddamnit…” “Your friend Jonsey. I don’t suppose this was his work?” “His work?” I asked, before struggling to laugh. “My good sir, I am not aware of a single person on God's green earth capable of this. Jonsey was a crazy sonofabitch, that he was. But this? No… I don’t believe that this was-” I was cut off by a loud exhale and the scrape of movement. From the corner of my eye, I saw that the twisted mass of flesh begin to move. The disjointed limbs seemed to stretch before finding purchase on the floor of the barn. The carcass seemed to pulsate, as I heard it breathe. Never before had I felt my blood run cold, but in that moment I did. Starkmann stood beside me, frozen in a silent horror that matched my own as the mutilated thing before us began to stand. Several legs supported its weight, and amongst them, I was sure I spotted human legs, stitched to the body like the rest. The mutilated head, horsehide sewn onto a bull's skull lifted upwards on a skinless neck. The naked flesh seemed to strain just by lifting it. The creature exhaled, and blood dribbled out of its bony nostrils. The eyes fixated on us, studying us as we remained rooted to the spot. Starkmann was the first to move, hastily raising his iron and squeezing off three shots. The creature only barely reacted, twitching as if annoyed. Its black eyes fixated on him before it let out a strained growl that sounded like countless creatures groaning in agony. Then, massive and spider-like it began to move. With speed that should not have been possible for a creature of its bulk, it lunged for Starkmann, lowering its head like a charging bull. He only barely stumbled out of the way before it reached him. In my panic, I’d forgotten the gun in my hand. My only instinct was to shoot, and that’s what I did. I squeezed off two shots towards that abomination. I could see its skin splitting as it turned to look at me. Rotten entrails spilled out of its new wounds as it bellowed at me. From the upper floor window of the house, I saw the flash of gunfire and briefly caught a glimpse of Cooper, poised in the window and unloading his Winchester on that damned thing. It hardly reacted at all. Its movements were sluggish and slow. Decaying meat trailed behind it as it moved. Its sights remained set on me before it charged once more, skittering like a massive bug. It slammed its head into the dirt where I had once been. One of its horns snapped and flew off. Part of its skull was shattered but the abomination did not relent. Waving its head like a goddamn flail it tried to pursue me again. I could hear the crack of Starkmann’s pistol and Cooper's rifle. The thing paid them no mind. As it reared for another charge, I launched the lantern at it. It shattered on the creature's body, and it went up like a candle. One moment, it was an abhorrent shape in the darkness but the next it was a towering inferno of flame. A twisted abomination screaming in the voices of a herd of cattle, screaming in the voices of dead horses and I swear in amongst those cries I heard the screams of a man. I stumbled backward, putting as much distance between myself and the flailing colossus of fire that struggled to put itself out. It blindly thrashed and squirmed, oily black smoke billowing off of its body. Then, its weight gave out beneath it. I saw it fall, legs splayed and twisted. Its body seemed to collapse in on itself as it broke apart with one final, dying scream that pierced my ears… And then, all was silent once more. Starkmann and I stood and watched the burning carcass, dumbstruck and pale as the grave. Cooper stood in the window, panting heavily as he looked down at the abomination we had just slain. This was not what we had anticipated, and in that moment a single thought occupied my mind. ‘Jonsey… What the hell did you do?’
As the distorted colossus of animal flesh burned by the barn, Cooper emerged from the ranch, his Winchester still in hand. “Christ’s sake, the hell was that thing?” He demanded. His eyes were bright in the firelight, which chased away the darkness that enveloped us as night fell. Starkmann only continued to stare at the dead creature, as if he expected it to rise up again and keep on fighting. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have been all that surprised if it had. “Hell if I know,” I replied. Even I could hear the uneasy tremble in my voice. “Dead animals stitched together… Thought they were dead, anyway.” “Well they look fuckin’ dead now,” Cooper said before spitting in the dirt. He glanced over at Starkmann who rolled a cigarette with a shaking hand and wiped the sweat off his brow. For a moment, all of us were silent and we watched that thing burn until we couldn’t recognize what parts had belonged to what animals anymore. Cooper shook his head again and took a step back towards the ranch. I could see a rush in his gait as if he aimed to get the hell away from that thing as soon as possible. I could hardly blame him. “Roy, Doc. c’mon. Let’s get us some goddamn answers.” He growled. My eyes lingered on the burning carcass of the thing in the barn before I followed Cooper. Starkmann didn’t move at all. The man seemed lost in his own little world. I let him be. “Please tell me there ain’t more of those fucking things in the house,” I said under my breath. “No, but there’s something else.” He’d replied as he stepped through the door. The fire from outside lit up the small kitchen and cast an orange glow that allowed us to see clearly enough. The Marshal led me up the stairs and into a bedroom, where I spotted the shape of a woman curled into a ball, almost hiding underneath one of the nearby beds. Cooper stayed outside the door, his gun still in hand as if he was expecting trouble. Me on the other hand? I knew otherwise. “Christ, is that Martha Roberts?” I asked. I glanced at Cooper but I couldn’t read his face. “You tell me, son.” He replied. Slowly, I approached the woman under the bed. Even in the long, flickering shadows cast from the fire outside, I recognized her although only barely. She was rail-thin, pale, and sickly. She barely resembled the smiling, rosy-cheeked woman I’d met ten years back. Her eyes were sunken in, her hair looked stringy and thin. But I still remembered her. “Martha?” I asked. She didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge my voice. “Martha, it’s me, Roy. Roy Wilson. You remember me?” Still no reply. Not even a shift of her head, to let me know she’d heard me. “I’d just found her like that before I heard the shooting.” Cooper said, “Didn’t have much time to talk to her… Didn’t get anything anyway. I presume you two know each other.” “Yeah. She’s Dick Roberts wife.” I replied. I gently reached out to try and coax her upwards. She didn’t put up any resistance and I managed to get her into a sitting position. Her breathing was slow and steady but her eyes seemed vacant. The stillness in her reminded me too much of Egor Starkmann. “Question is, where’s Dick Roberts.” Cooper said. He came up behind me and crouched down at my side. He put on that boyish smile of his and tried to speak to her. “Are you alright, ma’am? You hurt in any way?” No response. Martha’s eyes didn’t so much as move to acknowledge him. Her head just slumped to the side, like a corpse. Her eyes were vacant and unfocused. If she weren’t still suckin’ air I might have thought she really was dead. “Ma’am?” Cooper asked one last time, although I got the sense he’d already given up hope on her. “Christ… Same as the folks on the train…” He muttered under his breath before standing up. “Which means Jonesy was here.” I added, “Could be they left something behind. We should poke around. Maybe we’ll figure out where they’re headed.” I could tell that Cooper was thinking the same thing. “Hell, if we’re lucky your friend Dick is still here. Alive, preferably.” “Dick…” A voice rasped from behind us. Both Cooper and I turned to look at Martha. She stayed by the bed, slumped against it but her eyes had finally focused on us. “Dick…” She repeated and I returned to her side. “Yeah Martha, we’re looking for Dick. Where’s he at?” Her eyes glazed over towards the window. She slowly lifted an arm and pointed towards it. I didn’t need to go and look to know what she was pointing at. I could see the barn from where I stood, and the glow of the fire from the dead thing we’d found inside. “Dick…” She repeated. “The hell is she on about?” Cooper asked. He looked at Martha again. “Where the hell is your husband, woman?” I just continued to stare out the window, before looking back at Martha. “I think that was her husband, Cooper…” “What? That thing in the yard? Christ's sakes, Roy! That thing wasn’t even human! How the fuck was that Dick Roberts?” “I don’t know,” I replied plainly, before shaking my head. I figured that so long as Martha was sorta talking, maybe I might get something resembling answers. “Forget it… Martha. What about Daniel Jones? Jonsey. You see him come through here?” Her eyes shifted to me. It took a moment, but I saw her head begin to nod. The movement was slow but deliberate. “Jonsey…” She repeated. “And… Her…” “Her?” Cooper asked, his brow furrowed. “Who the hell is she talking about, Roy?” “Beats me… Who do you mean by ‘Her’, Martha?” The woman seemed to curl up a little bit, as if she was expecting to be struck. She shook her head, a violent jerking motion from side to side before she collapsed. Cooper got down to help her up again. “Who was with Jonsey, Martha?” I asked, “I need to know. Who was with him?” Her eyes burned into mine, wide and brimming with new tears. “Her…” Martha croaked, “Her… Her… Her…” “Who?” Cooper asked, trying not to raise his voice. He glanced from me, back to Martha as she continued to mutter that same word over and over again. “Her… Her… Her…” Her body went limp in Cooper's arms, her words slurred as she twitched and convulsed. Her eyes seemed wild and stared blankly up at the ceiling. “Shit, she’s not right…” Cooper cried, “DOC! STARKMANN!” He gently moved Martha into my arms before running for the window to call Starkmann. The woman just continued to twitch and babble although, for just a second, her eyes met mine as she spoke her last word. “Shaal…” She said it so clearly, and that word hit me like a cold exhale. Then… Nothing. Her body went limp. She was gone. I could hear Starkmann's boots thudding against the floor out in the hall. When he burst into the room, I laid Martha down so he could try and save her. I suspect I already knew that she was too far gone to save though. That last word hung in my mind, unwilling to leave. ‘Shaal.’ Something about it sent a chill through me. I rubbed my temples and recalled the drawings in Egors room, the strange horizons with the great cross left blank in the sky. Cooper put an arm around me and led me out of the room as Starkmann did his vain work. “Christ… What a fucking mess…” He murmured. He took off his hat and wiped at his brow, before looking at me again. “I don’t figure you’ve got any ideas who ‘Her’ might be?” “No, I don’t. Blake didn’t run with no women. Not while I was with him. He sure as hell didn’t run with anyone who’d leave a person like that…” “Christ…” He repeated. “Hell, we’ll search. See what we turn up.” “Yeah. We’ll see.” I said absently. I could hear Starkmann's efforts to revive Martha in the next room going silent. “Marshal, I don’t suppose you’d recognize the name Shaal, would you?” “Shaal?” He repeated, “No. What’s that got to do with anything?” “Martha said it when you went to call Starkmann… Right before she stopped breathing.” “Sounds like a name. Someone else in Jones’ crew? Could even be our mysterious lady friend.” “I ain’t never heard of anyone named Shaal.” I said. “Well, you have now. I’ll send a line to some associates of mine back in San Antonio. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll recognize the name.” Cooper said. I didn’t feel so sure of that. Starkmann stepped out of the bedroom, his face grim. His silence told us all we needed to know and for a moment, the three of us shared that silence. “We’ll start by searching the rooms, and we’ll bury her before we go.” Cooper finally said. There was an exhaustion in his voice. “Roy, check the barn. We know that’s clear… Starkmann, check downstairs. We’ll check the cellar together.” Starkmann just gave a nod, before turning to head back downstairs. I hesitated for just a moment before making my way down to the barn. The stink from that rotten beast hadn’t gone away quite yet. If anything, burning it had only made it stink worse. What was left was no more than a pile of charred flesh, that split and curled back, making the crude stitches that held it together popping. I kept my distance as I returned to the barn, my iron in my hand just in case there was anything else waiting for me in there. The barn itself looked like nothin’ special. Aside from the mess of dried blood and buzzing flies, I might not have thought too much of it at a glance. As I pressed on inside, the wooden floor creaked with every footstep. Looking up, I saw the crucified dog that Starkmann had mentioned. My stomach lurched a bit. It didn’t seem right to see a kindly animal strung up like that. The cross wasn’t like a normal cross, though. No, this one was in the shape of a X. Like the one St. Andrew died on. Somehow, I doubted that this had been a tribute to him. No, if anything this seemed like something else. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a small desk sitting in one corner of the barn, along with a few papers strewn about atop it. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. The light from the fire outside was enough for me to try to read those papers, but there wasn’t much on them I could clearly make out. Diagrams of animals, like what a butcher might use, mixed with a looping, effeminate script. The fragments that I read didn’t make sense to me and I didn’t dwell on them long. I felt something metallic bump against my boot and looked down to see what it was. It was a metal ring, looped through a small cellar doorway on the floor. I hesitated for a moment, before giving it a good couple of stomps with my heel. If there were anything down there, some noise might have woken it. I didn’t hear anything. I reached down and opened the cellar door. There was a set of wooden stairs leading into what looked like a dirt hole, hastily dug out beneath the barn. No doubt it had been used in the past to store ill-gotten goods… and yet judging by the pile of leavings and the dirty bedding in one corner, there’d been a man down there not all that long ago. I spotted the glimmer of something shiny in amongst the bedding and reached down to pick it up. It looked to be a gold rosary, with a rather ornate design. I backed out of the little hole under the barn to get a better look at it in the firelight. It might’ve been loot from the train robbery… Or an heirloom belonging to the fella who’d been down in that little hole. I clutched it tight and made my way back to the house, hoping that Cooper might know a thing or two about it. Cooper was downstairs with Starkmann when I got back into the house. They’d lit up a lamp and were at the kitchen table, fussing over Cooper's map, and some charred piece of paper. “You two find something?” I asked. “In the fireplace.” Cooper replied, “Map of some sort from the looks of it. Starkmanns trying to figure out what it shows. There wasn’t anything to find upstairs and the cellar’s just got stores and rats. You find anything in the barn?” “Few things, actually,” I said and held up the rosary. Starkmann glanced at it from the corner of his eye before shooting upright, a funny look in his eye. “You found that in the barn?” He asked. He outstretched a hand for it, and I tossed it to him. “Beneath the barn. There was a little dirt cellar. Looked to me like someone was being kept down there, up until recently.” Cooper's brow furrowed. “Jesus…” “You find anything else?” Starkmann asked, “Clothes? A letter? Anything?” “Not in the hole I didn’t. There were some awful queer papers on the butchery of animals… Didn’t look like much use, though.” I paused and studied the way that Starkmann clutched the rosary tight. “What’s it to you?” I asked. “I know this rosary.” Starkmann said, “I know the man who this belongs to. You said you found it in the barn, you mean that?” “Why the hell would I lie about it?” “YOU SWEAR YOU FOUND THIS IN THE BARN!” Starkmann roared. Cooper raised an arm between us and I caught myself shrinking back a step. “Now just wait a minute, Doc. Calm down. Who did that rosary come from.” “Bishop John Strickland. He’s been a close friend of the Starkmann family for many years. He and my father grew up together, they were like brothers. My father gave him this rosary. A gift, for his enthronement. I’d know it anywhere.” He paused, taking a moment to compose himself. I could see his hands trembling as he swore and kicked at the wall. “We had a mutual friend in San Antonio, Egor and I had gotten word from Strickland that his health had taken a turn for the worst. He’d left to say his goodbyes before it was too late. The only reason I was not on that train with him, was the health of one of my own patients.” Cooper and I traded a glance. “I don’t know about you, but that seems a strange coincidence that the man who was likely in that cellar was a close friend of a man from that train robbery…” I said quietly. “A strange coincidence indeed…” Cooper agreed, “I’d reckon that Egor knew where to find Bishop Strickland, right?” “Of course he knew.” Starkmann replied harshly, “Hell, he might’ve been one of the few people who did know… I think there’s no need to pretend we all haven’t come to the very same conclusion. Our train robbery was no simple robbery. They were after Father Strickland, or at the very least someone who knew where they might find him.” “Let’s just take it back a step.” Cooper said, “Before we start jumping to conclusions here, let’s look at the facts. Now, we’re sure that it was Daniel Jones behind that robbery and we’re sure that not only was he here, but he had Pastor Strickland in his custody. We’re all clear on that, right?” “Crystal,” Starkmann said, through a frustrated exhale. “Right. So, before we lose our heads let’s start asking where we’re headed for next. The obvious destination is wherever they marked on that map, correct?” “Correct…” I could see some of the tension draining from Starkmanns shoulders, and I approached the map on the table. I leaned over it and studied the crudely scribbled landmarks. I could see a river nearby and checked the map Cooper had laid out for anything that matched. Starkmann had probably already seen the same thing I’d seen… But as I followed the bends of the rivers, I wondered if perhaps he’d only looked at the rivers in Texas... “So, we find out where they’re headed, we find the Bishop and they all hang in San Antonio.” “Or we leave ‘em in the dirt for the vultures.” I added, “The river on the map they burned, that branches off the Rio Grande, into Mexico.” “The hell it does…” Cooper said as he leaned over my shoulder. He scanned the map and saw that I was right on the money. “Well shit…” “They’re headed south of the border if they ain’t there already,” I said. “Last I checked, your authority ends at the border, Marshal.” “More or less,” Cooper said, looking none too happy about it. “I’d need to send word to Virginia, maybe then we might get a warrant to pursue…” “Which would take how long?” Starkmann demanded. “Too damn long.” Cooper replied, “But that’s the only avenue we’ve got.” “The only one you’ve got.” Starkmann corrected, “Not me. I have a friend in danger and a brother left scarred by these men, Marshal! I’ll not sit idly by and wait for approval before I pursue. Chances are the Bishop will be long dead or worse by the time you get word back from Virginia!” “Doc, if you’re aiming to charge across the border by yourself, guns blazing, you’ve got another thing coming,” Cooper warned. “Now I admire your spirit. Truly I do. But if Jones and his men don’t kill you, you’ll answer to the law in Mexico and might end up dead anyway.” “If that’s what it takes, I’ll have no regrets,” Starkmann said. He glanced at me as if expecting me to chime in. I hardly can say I knew the man and I sure as hell didn’t know him well enough to die for him… But all the same, I caught myself sighing. “The Doc is right, Cooper. If we wait on this, we’ll lose them and we’ll probably lose the Bishop.” “And here I thought you didn’t want to go chasing after Jones.” Cooper said, “Why the change of heart?” “Well, when I said that there weren’t no hostages involved. I ain’t exactly a saint but I don’t think I’d sleep too well if I left a man of the cloth to his fate… And given what we’ve seen here already, I’d prefer not to think on just what that fate may be.” I looked over at Starkmann, who for the first time since I’d met him looked genuinely happy to hear my voice. “So, if you’re crossing the border then I am too. Now I understand that you’ve got rules you need to follow so we’ll go with or without you Marshal. I’ll think no less of you if you stay behind.” Cooper looked between the two of us, his usual boyish smile absent. He was silent for a moment and leaned on the table as he thought things over. He glanced up at the window, where the fire that consumed the carcass of whatever we’d killed still burned bright. “You know… Normally, I’d wish you two well, bury the girl, forget what I saw today and be on my way.” He said as he stared through the window. “But we ain’t even been gone a day yet and my gut tells me that there ain’t one thing normal about any of this. If I were a betting man, I wouldn’t place my money on this shit getting any less weird either… But I suppose you both know that already, don’t you?” He looked away from the window and shook his head. “We bury the girl first then we’ll talk about Mexico back at Chestnut Springs. I need a fucking drink.” On that last part, all three of us were agreed. We left the ranch behind after we’d buried Martha Roberts. The fire had spread to the barn and I thought it wouldn’t be long until it spread to the house as well. Perhaps that might be for the best. Whatever twisted things were done on that land were probably best burned. Starkmann, Cooper, and I will catch a train at dawn for Del Rio. Then we will find our way across the border. There, we’ll travel to the point on that burned map, and see what awaits us. The whisky at the saloon in Chestnut Springs has not removed my memories of that thing in the barn… I believe I shall see it again in my dreams, perhaps for the rest of my life. That much, I could tolerate. And yet the thing that keeps me awake is the fear that what we killed at Stone Acres, whatever it was, was not the only one of its kind. June 15th, 1887 We crossed the border two days ago and found ourselves in the wilderness of Coahuila. The journey was slow, almost grueling at times. We followed the river slowly getting closer to the spot marked on the map. The ride itself had been unremarkable, but between the three of us, we hardly spoke. I could see it in the eyes of Starkmann and Cooper. They hadn’t been sleeping any better than I had. Even during the nights, I could hear them tossing and turning. I didn’t need to ask why. We still saw it when we tried to sleep. The limbs of that abomination, horse and cattle legs twisted until they were spider-like. The swollen, lumbering carcass of dead flesh that seemed to rip itself apart with its very bulk... I still see the dead eyes of the horse head, mounted clumsily over the skull of that bull… I still smell the stink of it. I knew they shared the same fear as I did long before we made it to the town. It just wasn’t until after we got there that we actually had a name for it… We saw the fog first, so thick and heavy you could barely see the horse in front of you. “Maybe we should stop for a bit.” I heard Cooper call, “Can’t see shit in this and if we lose one of the horses…” “Terrains level enough for now.” Starkmann replied, “Don’t see any reason not to keep going.” I didn’t weigh in. Unlike them, I saw the faded lights just ahead of us and kept my horse moving in that direction. “Roy?” I heard Cooper call, followed by silence. I knew he’d seen what I’d seen and I suspected he knew what it must’ve meant too. Whatever we were looking for out there, we’d just found it. “The hell is this?” Cooper asked, “A town of some sort?” “Maybe at one point,” I said. I glanced at an old house that looked to be in the midst of collapsing. “Not anymore.” I stopped my horse and glanced behind me to make sure Starkmann and Cooper were still close behind. They were. I dropped off, reaching for my iron and moving deeper into the fog. “The hell are you doing?” Cooper demanded. “Shh. We’ll be quieter on foot.” I replied. In the fog behind me, I saw Cooper starting to dismount his horse. Thankfully the man had seen my point. I figured Starkmann was likely right behind him. I moved deeper into the abandoned town. There was no sound, no birds. Nothing at all. The silence was deafening. “The hell happened here?” I heard Starkmann murmur, “Place feels like a goddamn graveyard…” “Could be Jonsey and his friends have already moved on.” Cooper said, “God damn… If we’ve missed them…” “Hello?” A voice called out through the fog in front of us, and the three of us froze. Cooper went for his six-gun and aimed it into the blank white ahead. It took me a few seconds to see what he saw. The shape of a man coming closer through the fog. The shape stopped, dead in its tracks. “Hector? That you?” “Guess I spoke too soon…” Cooper murmured and thought for a moment before calling out. “It’s Hector!” Both Starkmann and I glanced at him, no doubt wondering what the hell he was thinking when the voice replied. “The hell are you doing out in the mist, Hector? C’mon back!” Evidently, we were dealing with some sort of moron. With his gun still drawn, Cooper walked towards the stranger in the mist as if there wasn’t a problem in the world. The poor dumb fool probably couldn’t get a clear look at his face in the fog and by the time he did, he didn’t even get to let off a scream before Cooper had knocked him into the dirt. Starkmann and I flanked him, as Cooper dragged our new, dumb friend through the dirt and slammed him up against the ruins of a building. Our new friend was just a boy, no older than 16 with bright red hair and eyes wide like a gutted deer. Cooper kept a hand over his mouth and put the barrel of his gun up against the bottom of his jaw. “You scream and I’ll blow your head clean off, boy.” He warned. “Do I make myself explicitly clear?” The boy tried to nod and Cooper slammed him against the wall. “I said am I clear!” This time, the boy made a little more effort and Cooper took his hand away. “Daniel Jones. Where is he?” He growled. “C-Church… Him and Kennard…” The boy stammered. “Kennard?” Cooper asked, “That the woman’s name?” “Y-yeah. Kennard! Primrose Kennard! Jonsey brought her down from somewhere. Mississippi, Missouri? I-I don’t remember!” Cooper studied the boy for a moment, before forcefully turning him around. “Roy, get some rope from my horse and help me truss up this little shit.” I got up to head back to the horses when I heard another voice from the fog, from the direction we’d come from. “Henry? You there?” “HECTO-” The boy tried to scream but Cooper covered his mouth again. “Get rid of that one. Quiet.” He whispered to me. I gave a half nod before pulling my hunting knife from my belt. I could see the shape of a man approaching our horses. I was sure he had a gun drawn, so I ducked behind one of the old houses, and circled around it. “Henry?” Hector called again, just as I’d rounded the house and came out right behind him. If he heard me coming, he didn’t have time to stop me before I was behind him, with my knife in his throat. The moment happened quickly. One minute, I was behind him and he was alive, the next he was bleeding out in my arms, no different than the animals I’d hunted. I’d killed a man before… But it’d been so long that I couldn’t help but pause as I ended that stranger's life. It felt… Odd. Wrong. But the deed was done. I let the body drop. Hector hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, choking on his own blood as he did. I tried not to dwell on that. I backed up towards Cooper's horse and grabbed the rope. The boy, Henry I suppose his name was, was dead still by the time I returned to him and Cooper. No doubt he’d seen me waste his friend. “You count yourself lucky I’m a softie, kid,” Cooper said as he bound his wrists. “Now if you’ll be so obliged, where’s the Church?” “U-up the road… J-just up the road. You can’t miss it, mister!” The boy stammered, “Please… I don’t wanna die…” Cooper just cracked a smile. “Well ain’t really got room for prisoners. But hell if I’m just gonna kill some kid whose balls ain’t even dropped yet… Oh no. You’re comin’ back to Texas with us.” With that, he jammed a rag into Henry's mouth and left him on the ground. Starkmann regarded him quietly before heading up the road, through the fog, and towards the Church. We heard the voices as we got closer, a man's distant screams. I could see Starkmann picking up his pace, and knew he recognized that voice. Through the fog, I could see the church. It was old, its paint was chipped and worn. It had seen better days but was still intact. Cooper raced past me and put a firm hand on Starkmann’s shoulder as he neared the door, pulling him back. He glanced back at the Marshal with rage in his eyes, although relented quickly. “Look first. Shoot second.” Cooper whispered. He gestured to the door and we quietly drew nearer. The doors were open, just enough for us to see inside and as we got closer I heard a woman's voice speaking. “Be honored, your Excellency… Very few are given the chance to serve the True Gods. Your life is in servitude to a higher purpose. That, I promise you…” The Church was well lit with oil lamps along the walls. I peered through the broken door and spotted a man, dressed in the dirty robes of a bishop on his knees before the altar. No doubt, this was Strickland. Just a few feet away from him I spotted a figure I recognized as old Jonsey. He’d grown huskier in the years since I’d last seen him but I knew his face all too well. Yet the star of the show was the woman… Primrose Kennard, she’d been called. I hadn’t quite known what to expect, but she both lived up to and defied my expectations. She was tall, and lovely with pitch-black hair that fell to her shoulders. She had a slight baby's face, yet that only seemed to add to her loveliness. She wore no guns, and yet something about her still sent a cold chill through me. In one hand, she carried a bone knife and held it to the Bishop's throat. “Don’t be afraid…” She crooned, cradling his face like a lover. “I won’t make you face It again…” Her thumbs ran gently over his cheeks, she smiled sweetly at him as she bent down to kiss his forehead. “No… You’re not meant for Shaal, Bishop… You’re here to show me the way…” I saw the knife dip lower, moving towards the Bishop's throat and I knew that whatever she’d been building up to, she was about to do it. “You drop that knife, Woman!” I heard Starkmann yell. He pushed past us and threw open the door, aiming his gun right at that woman's heart. Kennard pulled back, eyes wide in surprise at first, before her lips curled into a smile. “Well, well… We have visitors!” She crooned. Besides Starkmann, Cooper and I entered the Church as well. His gun was trained on Jones, as was mine. Jones stood protectively before Starkmann, and I felt his eyes on me. “Roy Wilson…” He said, his voice lower and gruffer than before, “Well I’ll be… Is that you?” “Been too long Jonsey.” I replied coldly, “I thought you hung ten years back.” “Almost.” He replied, “No thanks to you. You a Marshal now?” “No, but I’ll put you in the ground all the same.” Jonesy’s crooked smile widened, exposing yellowed teeth. “Good luck to you…” He glanced back at Kennard, who still clutched her knife tightly, before going for his guns. I couldn’t tell you who shot first, myself, Cooper, or Starkmann. What I know for sure is that we filled that sonofabitch with enough lead to kill him five times over, and he didn’t so much as fucking flinch. Jonsey drew his iron as if we hadn’t even shot at us. His first three shots struck the walls. I scrambled for cover behind a pew. From the corner of my eye, I saw Cooper doing the same on the opposite side of the chapel. Jonsey kept a gun aimed at each of us, although when he saw Starkmann try to make a run from the door to the altar, he forgot about us. He fired twice before Starkmann dove low and Cooper took advantage of his lapse in judgment to take a shot at him. I saw his muzzle flash and I saw part of Jonsey’s skull shatter. I swear I saw bits of his brain dribbling down the side of his head but that bastard still stood tall, shooting back like he had all day and laughing quietly all the while. Behind him, I watched as Kennard seized the Bishop by the hair. Starkmann had tried to get up to make another run for him but Jonsey shot just above his head as soon as he saw him trying to poke it out. None of us could’ve saved Bishop Strickland. Not even if we’d wanted to. Kennard drew the knife violently across his throat, damn near taking his head off. Then, with the bloodied knife still in hand, she turned towards the altar, almost oblivious to the carnage behind her. “Ancient Guardian, I beg of thee… With sacred blood, on the sacred ground I invoke thee… Grant me an audience in exchange for this holy life…” She drove the knife into the wooden altar, and I felt the ground itself quake. The world around us seemed to dim into a blackness darker than even the nighttime. Jonsey paused, looking back with what was left of his skull at Kennard who stood triumphantly before the altar. I saw my shot, and I took it. I’d never killed a woman before, much less shot one in the back but given the circumstances, I wouldn’t have lost any sleep. I know my aim was true. The bullet should’ve hit her dead on. Instead, I felt a pain in my shoulder, like someone had just slugged me hard. For the first couple of seconds, it hardly registered as painful… But then it started to burn. I saw a blood-red stain blooming on my shoulder. The gun fell from my hand and looking at Kennard, I saw her smiling at me and I knew that somehow, she’d done this to me. I collapsed back down behind the pew as a great shadow grew from the darkness before her. I clutched at my new bullet wound, trying as best I could to stop the bleeding. Jonsey still stood in the aisle of the chapel, keeping close to Kennard and trading bullets with Cooper. For a moment, I was sure that he’d been the one who’d shot me, but I was sure he hadn’t so much as looked my way when I’d shot at Kennard. From the corner of my eye, I saw Starkmann pop out from cover to take a few more shots at Jonesy. I can’t say why he bothered, the bastard remained as unflinching as ever. Even with half his skull blown away he hardly seemed to give a damn. He looked back towards Kennard, and watched as the darkness before her grew larger. I saw a shape inside of it, something tall and looming. Its limbs seemed thin, like bones but I could’ve sworn they had a texture like wood. I saw what looked to be a bare human skull looking down at her, and yet a pair of beady eyes lurked deep within their sockets. The entity that had answered Kennard's summons spoke in a deep, rumbling voice although I couldn’t make out the words over the gunfire. I saw Starkmann crawling behind the same pew Cooper was behind, having given up his mission to save the Bishop. Blood dripped from a fresh gash in his temple where he’d been grazed. “Not a bad effort, but y’all won’t be killing me today…” I heard Jonsey say, his voice thick and wet. “Miss Kennard’s made some… Modifications… That’s her specialty, see?” I could hear his heavy footsteps drawing nearer to us. “Maybe when I’m done with you boys, she might find somethin’ she can salvage… Eyes, guts, bones… I suppose I could use a new skull…” He chuckled deeply. From behind his pew, Cooper glanced over at me and I saw real hopelessness in his eyes. We were cooked and we all knew it. Jonsey was just coming to finish the job. I spotted my gun on the floor near me and grabbed at it. I knew it was almost surely suicide, but I had one idea that just might work. I dove out from behind the pew and unloaded my pistol into Jonsey’s legs. I aimed for the knee, and I saw the blood spatter against the pews. Just as I’d hoped, the bastard’s newly busted legs couldn’t support him. I saw the panic in his one good eye before he went down. He braced himself against the pews to try and avoid collapsing outright, and that gave us the window I needed. With my last shot, I took aim at one of the oil lamps on the walls. Fire had killed the thing at the ranch, maybe it might kill Jonesy too. The least it could do was cover our escape. Flames erupted from the broken lamp, quickly catching on the old pews. That Church was likely gonna be an inferno in a few minutes, and I didn’t want to stick around to see for sure. “Move!” I yelled, before bolting towards the Church door. Cooper and Starkmann both took the hint. They followed me to the door. Starkmann paused for only a moment to take a parting shot at Jonsey’s head. But I didn’t get to see if it made any difference. Clutching my bleeding shoulder, I sprinted through the fog, almost falling once or twice. I didn’t stop until I saw the horses. “C’mon! Move your asses!” I yelled. Looking back again, I saw Starkmann coming up behind me. Cooper had stopped to grab that goddamn boy we’d left trussed up. If I’d had time, I would’ve cursed him out for it. With Starkmanns help, I was able to get up on my horse. Through the fog, I could see the Church burning, and yet I had a sick feeling in my stomach that our troubles were far from over. We hadn’t won. We just hadn’t died.
I am a Sheriff's Deputy in Bull's Heart, Texas. Part 2.
Part one lives here. It'll make more sense if you it first. https://www.reddit.com/Revblackrage/comments/hxikru/bulls_heart_texas/ I was half way to my car before I knew it, fresh cup of coffee in my hand. Ellie wouldn't let me leave without one. I set the cup of coffee down on the roof of the Dodge and started digging around in my pockets. Looking for my keys. A scream ripped out of the restaurant behind me. It was long and loud. Sounded like someone had just stuck their hand in a deep fat fryer. Or had it forced into one. It startled me and I jumped, So much so that I dropped my keys. I heard a snort. Which sounded suspiciously like it was at my expense. I looked over my shoulder as I bent over to grab my keys. Murray's horse, Pistola, was tied up in a parking spot, about three spaces down from me. It was technically against city ordinance to tie an animal up in a commercial parking lot. Outside of Rodeo season of course, And there was special emphasis on undead mammals. But if you won't tell, I won't. The skeletal equine was staring at me over a feed bag strapped to his face. I pretended not to notice that the feed bag was stained brown, with a suspicious blackish liquid dripping from the stained burlap. Sometime's in Bull's Heart, the answers just aren't worth the questions. "Cut me some slack, dude" I said. With a voice that may or may not have registered a bit of annoyance. "I'm not a three hundred year old dead horse. Shit creeps me out sometimes." I could have sworn that old Pistola, rolled his eyes at that. But that may have been just me giving the horse too much credit. Another shorter scream erupted from the diner. This one ending suddenly. The context clues I had at my disposal, told me it was Marcel who was doing the screaming in there. Now were I a normal Sheriff's Deputy it would be my job to run into that Diner, ready to get to the bottom of it. But. I already knew the score and felt no need to investigate further. Plus, fuck that guy. Stripers had no protections under the law and I was specifically instructed to ensure their safety at my discretion and i discresified that Marcel was a worthless piece of human wreckage, who should be fed to a wood chipper. His death would truely be a net benefit to humanity as a whole. And that was about as far as I was willing to take it. Just as I scooped up my keys, I heard a low nervous sound from the undead horse. One of those 'Hey I'm not cool with this' sounds horses make. A rustle of feathers creeping out of the night sky, the horse's call of unease it's only accompaniment. "Fuck" I swore outloud. A rustle of feathers on a night time breeze could mean only a few things in Bull's Heart and only one of them would creep out a horse. I stood up straight. Looking for it. Resting my paw on the handle of my Smoke Wagon. My fingers wrapping around the checkered grip of the ridiculously large revolver. They always come when the stink of blood is on the air. They bring the cold with them too. As was attested to by the shiver running down my spine and the light steam I was suddenly exhaling. The hairs on my bare arms stood up in response to the suddenly frigid air. On one level I knew that I was under no immediate threat.... But you tell that to two hundred thousand years of evolutional preservational instincts. Shit was there for a reason. Yes I suppose you could say the thing perched over the door of Earl's diner made me uncomfortable. Just a touch. The neon lighting from the diner's sign cast an odd neon red hue across it. The light seemed to accentuate the shadows it lurked in. But I wouldn't even have to look at the damn thing to know it was watching me. The whole site of the thing was like watching a demon stalk you. Nobody was really sure where they had came from. Nobody who'd been to the Great Beyond, or any other such ports of mystical or metaphysical call, could recall such a creature in any of their travels. I would describe it as a humanoid, with big ragged vultures wings. Bipedal body. Bird's legs. A man's chest. I usually saw a big fuck off beak, that was attached to a face that looked similar to a plague doctor's mask. But rarely did two people see the same thing when they looked at the creatures. Well for the most part. The going theory was that they were some matter of shape shifters. But that still left a lot to explain. Everyone described the same ragged wings and the same piercing eyes. Orbs of a pure white, that burned with a mix of corruption and malevolent anger. Like spotlights of hate on a greasy black night. But nobody could agree on secondary characteristics. To me they all looked the same, but if I tried to describe what I saw, you wouldn't know what I was talking about, because you saw a horses head with a seagulls beak for a face, or some other such silliness. This particular creature's wings were drooped over it like a cloak. I could see the eyes boring into me from the inky black recesses of it's wings. No notion of a head, or shoulders, or anything could be discerned from the shadows. I glared back at it for a moment, before I took a good weaver style shooting position, drew my smoke wagon and planted it's front site post right smack dab between those dumbass eyes. It did nothing but glare back at me with those huge hate filled peepers. I couldn't even tell if it understood what was happening. But I could make out it's inky black talons flexing on it's perch, as if it was about to throw itself forward and rip my belly clean open in a fit of avian fury. Everything in me told me to pull the trigger on my Magnum Research BFR and send a .45-70 Government Consecrated Exploding Sabot round right into the thing's forehead. Everything in me wanted to send that unearthly thing back to whatever soulless void it spawned from. The things aren't right for this world and everything in me was telling me to send it back where it belonged. To the pit it crawled out of. But technically........Under Texas department of Fish and Game code, They are classified as an endangered species. So all I could do was whisper "Bang" like a petulant child and reluctantly holster my weapon. I am not horribly mature, I admit. Yeah, sure they stole dead bodies. Sure they flew around from Dusk till Dawn creeping the living fuck out of people. Sure they had all the sentience of a learning disabled possum. But some genius decided to call them an endangered species and grant them protected habitats. Like the forests surrounding Bull's Heart. Because where the fuck else would they be able to go? The thrice cursed things are Illegal to hunt for sport or harvest. And if you kill one by accident, you better have your ducks in a row. Because you are about to be investigated for Poaching. Which in Texas, means you are going to face a lot of Jail time. Which is some Fucking liberal bullshit, if you ask me. Our local game warden, a fella named Lingelsou, was very particular about the animals of what he calls 'His Forest.' He also had zero problem running in Deputys for violations to the Texas Fish and Game code. He once arrested a Deputy named Landis for taking one down. Even though he had a good reason for it..... well maybe not a good reason exactly, but a pretty damn good excuse. About once a month or so, Deputy Landis has a condition that.... Well it's just best that he gets away from people for a couple days or so. He goes a little wild in that time frame. So he goes out to a plot of land he owns out in the woods and just rides it out. Safer for everyone that way. During one of these..... Fits I guess you could call it. He took down one of the creatures and ate half of it. Warden Lingelsou took him in for it. It didn't matter that Deputy Landis wasn't in his right frame of mind. He still didn't have a population control hunting license, which was the only way to legally hunt them. Sheriff Onryu had gone to bat for the Deputy, going so far as to site the American's with disabilities act of 1990, trying to point out that Landis had a condition and certain accessions had to be made in order to provide a fair and equal environment for him. Including free reign hunting rights for the thing that lived inside of him. Lingelsou wasn't buying it though. "Laws be laws" The Game Warden had said. "In my forest and in my jurisdiction, the laws be respected" Sanctimonious do-gooder Prick. But the creatures did a good job of keeping their number's low and they didn't really go out of their way to attack people. Unless cornered. Which is a good thing. Because when they are worked up into a good lather, they can take and dish out a lot of punishment before they finally go down. Kind of like a skybourne Armadillo. Only less cute. This specimen, as if sensing my unease, leaned forward and screeched at me. I got the impression of a beak sticking out from between it's wings. The screech was loud in the frigid silence. It gave off the audio sensation of nails on a chalkboard mixed with a crying newborn. A pretty unpleasant mixing of audible input. Than the burning eyes turned back to Pistola, and I briefly wondered if the Creature was going to go after the undead horse. I mean they were death eaters and technically the horse was dead after a fashion. I would legally be allowed to shoot it at the point, as Pistola was technically livestock....Deadstock?..... Anyway, in Bull's Heart, you could defend tame animals from wild Animals. Especially with all of the weird crap that lives in our woods. But before I could sink much thought into it, the creature reared on it's haunches, gave one last terrifying screech and took wing, quickly disappearing into the night sky. My caveman ego wanted to believe that it was because the Creature was made uncomfortable by my presence. But more than likely it figured that the staff of Toothy Earl's weren't going to toss Marcel's corpse out the front door, so there was no point in hanging around. Either way Pistola seemed to be okay with the end result, as he let out a sigh of equine relief as the potential predator made it's exit. I watched the night sky in the direction it flew off for a moment, wondering if it was going to change it's mind and come back. They have a name. Like we don't just call them 'Creatures.' I just happen to think the name is stupid. Real fucking stupid. Because it's not a hot chick on a winged horse swinging a sword. It is in no way shape or form a Valkerye. And yes that is a hill that I am willing to die on. It's a fucking bird monster, not a chick who escorts dead warriors to the All Father's table. Can't put that shit on the side of a panel van from the seventies. End of discussion. I just call them 'Shitbirds.' When I was certain that the Shitbird was gone for good, I turned and gave Pistola a nod. "You're safe now, Sir." I said with a professional smile. "You're welcome." The Horse just stared back at me with Milky dead eyes. He seemed super unimpressed. "Fine" I said with a bit of feigned exasperation "act like that thing didn't have you scared out of your peanut sized mind" The Horse snorted at me again and again I swear he managed to roll his pupiless white eyes at me. That damn horse was smarter than he was letting on. I shook my head and turned back to the Charger. But as I got into the Dodge, I thought I heard something. Like words floating out of the dark. Scratchy. Raspy. Just at the point of hearing. The point were you aren't sure if it's your inner monolog or your ears, and i definitely wasn't quite sure which one it was. "The.... Master.... Comes...." I stared off in the direction the creature had flown. Well that was odd. I couldn't be sure that I had heard it.... But I couldn't completely write it off either. * I knew the way to the Miller's house like the back of my hand. We were out there enough after all. The Miller's were two people that shouldn't have been together. But they were also both extremely stubborn. Neither was going to be the one who broke first and left. They also refused to admit they had problems. Even when they were doing their best to rip each other apart. Made conflict mediation between the two parties a royal bitch. They were one of the reasons I hated this God forsaken town. I was going to meet up with Gruk and Daliwal at the foot of the Miller's drive and we would go up their property as a group. It's usually best to go out on calls with as much back up as possible. Especially in this town. I briefly thought about Gruk's condition. I glanced down towards the Digital Defensive Control Suite sitting in the middle of my Patrol car's center console. The screen showed that the U.V. Defensive lighting rig that sat on the roof of the Uparmored Charger Hell Cat cruiser was off. I reached down and tapped the off button just to be sure. I than reached over and hit the manual safety, locking it out of action. A lot of citizen's of Bull's Heart had one condition or another that made U.V. light anything from annoying to downright lethal, so much so that the local Government classified U.V. lights as destructive devices. If you had some? You had better have a very damn good reason for having them or you were going to jail. Occasionally certain people would kick up a stink about it, make some noise about it being a violation of the 2nd Amendment, but they usually didn't get much support because.... well it's hard to get people real worked up about lightbulbs. It would have been a damn shame to take Gruk and possibly Daliwal out of action, due to some avoidable asshatted dipshittery. I actually wasn't sure if U.V. would take Daliwal down or out, but I did know his kind were nocturnal, so better safe than sorry. I turned down the dirt road that would take me to the Miller's front gate. Something about the way the lights of my cruiser played down the narrow tree lined dirt road gave it an ominous feeling. I was hoping it wasn't a sign of things to come. "Here the fuck we go" I grumbled outloud. I saw Gruk's S.U.V. and Daliwal's cruiser parked next to the Miller's cattle gate. Gruk had to drive one of the bigger S.U.V.s due to her massive size. "More like her massive ass" I said to myself, giving myself a slight chuckle in response, finding myself hilarious. And before you ask, yes I am aware that I am an idiot. I parked behind the big SUV and got out, but not before I let dispatch know where I was. "Jen, Whiskey Hotel, 10-23 at the Miller's" I told dispatch over the radio. "Roger that, Whiskey Hotel, good luck!" "Roger. Thanks. Out." Daliwal and Gruk were standing in front of the latter's cruiser, looking up the property. Gruk turned her massive head my way. The black pupils of her eyes seemed to dig right through me as she stared. Her lips parted slightly and she gave me a disdainful sneer. "Oh look..." She said said sounding gruff and vaguely British, like a bad guy from a Lord of The Rings Movie "'Ey sent a pathetic little 'Oomie to back us up..." The look on her face could have frozen fire. She looked like she wanted to rip open my belly and play with what she found there. She squared up her shoulders like she was ready to throw down and raised her hands up to shoulder height. Flexing every muscle she had in her upper body. Her jaw fell open revealing some seriously nasty gleaming white canines. A Threat display if there ever was one. Her Body Armor and her duty belt did nothing except add to idea that she was preped and ready for a real slobberknocker. She took a step forward, looking every bit of the bruiser she really was. From the top of her pony tail to the soles of her size twenty black Bates combat boots, she was built for war. Literally. Thats what her race had been bred for. "Only thing 'Oomies is good for is filling bellys...." Daliwal looked over at her with a 'what the fuck?' Look on his face. He seemed genuinely suprised by her words and aggressive actions. He looked over at me, his big yellow-green eyes going wide. He raised a hand to his beard and stroked it a few times. Looking back and forth between us. I got the feeling that was how his nerves liked to showed themselves. The palm of his hand faced outwards and his fingers seemed to go backwards like their joints were reversed. He was a transfer from another town like Bull's Heart, somewhere in Florida. Thunder? Or maybe it was Cougar Teeth? Not that it mattered I guess. He had only been with the Sheriff's department a few weeks now, and most of that had been training time. He may have been a veteran. But here in Texas, he was 'The new guy' and he was still trying to figure out what was what. The look on his face said that he wasn't quite sure what he had found himself in the middle of here, but he wasn't a fan of it. I wasn't used to the backwards hands thing yet and it was still a little weird for me. Tiger head was off putting too, but that was easier to get used to. Seemed like a hell of a nice guy so far though. Like he was really working hard to dispell the negative views most people had towards free form shape shifters. He didn't need to though. He wouldn't have earned his Star if he were an asshole. I tried to come up with a witty zinger to shoot back at Gruk, but I was drawing a blank. I almost went with 'ol reliable,' a Shrek reference. But I wasn't feeling it. So I just raised my hands to the waist, making sure not to spill my coffee, and mugged a sarcastically terrified expression at her. "Ohhhh scary" I said in the most mockingly insincere voice I could muster, rolling my eyes as hard as I could. "Cut the fuckin' shit, Gruk, you're scaring the new guy" "Watch your language!" Gruk said suddenly, dropping the bad movie Orc accent like a bad habit. Her real voice sounded more like a housewife from somewhere in the mid west. Like Nebraska or some shit. Flat but somehow bubbly. You always had a suspicion that the next word out of her mouth was going to be 'Ope.' "And besides, He isn't scared he already knows I'm a total sweetie" She said fixing him with a wide smile. Which despite the fact that it showed off her massive fanged canines, still managed to come across as incredibly warm and inviting. Like someone's mom. "I gave him some of my famous oatmeal cookies, would a big nasty evil orc make cookies for the new guy?" She directed the last question at Daliwal. He looked like he was still in shock at the rapid shift in tones. His eyes were wide and his jaw was still slightly hanging open. I could tell that he wasn't exactly sure if we weren't playing a game of 'fuck with the new guy' His shifted his gaze between our faces. He swallowed, a bit nervously. "Well...." His voice had that crisp English accent that alot of educated Indian Immigrants had, when they learned their English at a British founded University. You could tell from his tone that he wasn't super comfortable in the situation. ".....The .....'Cookies'--" I got the feeling that he had to mentally restrain himself from saying 'biscuits' "--did have Raisins in them, so the question of your being a 'Sweetie' or something of a malicious sort hasn't really been settled just yet." It took me a second, but I got the humor. Fucker was just so goddamn dry in his delivery, that it almost didn't land. I gave him a chuckle. I got the notion that he was gonna be an okay guy to work with. Once He got settled that is. Gruk however stared at him for a moment. She didn't quite give a laugh, but she did give him another award winning smile. She placed her left fist on her waist and pointed at him with her other hand. "I'm gonna have to keep my eye on you, Mister!" She said with a bit of humor in her voice. "And don't you worry about the Raisins, just my way of messing with the new guy, I guess. But don't worry. They help a body increase blood production. Thats good for you..... and Me." Daliwal waited a beat before giving Gruk a wide-eyed nervous chuckle, before breaking eye-contact and looking down to make sure his boots were still on his feet. His timid response set me off. I let lose with a stifled laugh. I squeezed my eyes shut and laughed into the back of my hand. My sides shaking. Now Daliwal wasn't a small guy, he was broad across the shoulders. Had Fangs and Claws of his own. A Gun too. I didn't know him too well, but I would bet that He could take care of himself in a fight. His kind were usually pretty good with their mitts. Or at least thats what I had heard about them. (That might just be a stereotype though. If it is, and anyone of you out there reading this are of the Raksasha people and have a problem with it, please know that I meant nothing by it.) But when a Person of Gruk's size and ability, friendly disposition or not, makes a mention of your platelet count it could be a little disconcerting. Especially since Gruk, in addition to being one of the largest specimens of Orc you would ever meet was also afflicted with Vampirism. She was hell on wheels without the condition. Half the department had called her 'Mama Bear' because if you were down and bleeding and you needed someone to drag your ass out of the fire, she was the one you would want arriving on scene. Believe me. I know what it's like to be laying on your back, getting the shit kicked out of you, looking up and seeing Gruk come charging onto the scene like a cross between The Incredible Hulk and Jesus Christ. But as to how she came across the Vampirism, It's actually kind of a sweet story. A few years back she fell for a local gal named Maddie and they got married. Maddie was a vampire. In good standing of course. But than again she had to be, because rogue Vampires get run out of town pretty quick, if not staked down for the morning sun. A man by the name of Kincade ran the local Vampire Coven and he was a stickler for 'The Rules of Fair Conduct' which 'The United Night Walker Covens and Clans of The United States, Mexico, and Canada' had applied to towns like Bull's Heart. Kincade ran a tight ship and The Sheriff's Department had rarely if ever had reason to pick a fight with the Blood Suckers. Well.... Except that one time..... But thats neither here nor there. Plus we don't like to talk about it around here. It would be especially impolite to discuss it with outsiders. Anyway the point is, that with the Vampirism accentuating her already considerable strength and hardiness.... she had gone from Hell On Wheels to a One Woman SEAL Company. Part of the lovely couple's wedding vows had been Maddie converting Gruk into a Vampire. Maddie had taken Gruk's name and Gruk had taken on Maddie's condition. I had to admit. It twanged on the dusty strings of my heart. For some reason, it struck me as beautiful. To not only tell someone you want to be with them forever, but to take steps to actually do so? Well, I'm not gonna lie. I shed a few happy tears at the wedding. I guess I'm a bit of a softy. "Senior Deputy Gruk" I said, doing my best to come to Daliwal's rescue "if you could quit subtley terrifying the New Guy for a moment? I think we got us a wellness visit to make, if you would like to take charge and lead your valiant warriors on a crusade in the name of public safety? Now would be a good time for that." "Oh, party pooper" Gruk said. But she drew up to her full height and turned to look up at the Miller's House. It was a white ranch style sitting on top of a slight hill. The lights were off and nobody appeared to be home. "Okay" She said looking down at me "First things first, Cowboy." She pointed down at the Magnum Research BFR in my Holster. "Go to the trunk of your car and get a gun that isn't stupid" "Goddamnit" I grumbled. * Five minutes later we were walking up the Miller's Driveway. A fifth Generation Glock 40 sitting in my Holster. We had to hoof it up the property. Because the cattle gate across the driveway was locked. Which wouldn't have mattered. Because once a car crossed the Miller's gate, it tends to experience engine trouble. Never getting more than twenty feet before shutting down completely. Radios had issues too. Hell the 3D RMR Night Site on my pistol was probably dead. Like it's 10 year battery was burnt out. It was something to do with the Nature of the Millers..... and the Magic they threw around. Electronics hated the stuff for some reason. So normally we just left anything that had a battery in the car. I was staring up at the House as I walked. It was odd. Usually at this point we could hear them screaming at each other, the pop and fizzle of Magic spells going off. Inhuman roaring as demons were summoned. Not to attack, but to help bolster arguments. Dishes breaking. Tonight though? It was different. Dead silence. Like the house was a tomb. My eyes were going from window to window. Looking for any sign of life and finding none. No fluttering curtains. Lights popping on and off. No nothing. Just the crunch of our boots on old asphalt. I almost didn't notice the temperature drop, until I was exhaling steam. I shivered inside my uniform. I was just about to ask 'Where the fuck did that come from' When Daliwal spoke up. "We are being watched" He said quietly. "I see them too" Gruk said. All merriment lost from her voice. She was switched on now and jokes would be unprofessional. She eased the AR Pistol she carried off of her belt. It was chambered in .458 Socom, and of course the entire lower was custom made to fit her gigantic hand. Including a massive grip that resembled the handle of a 1911 Pistol rather than the traditional AR group. Making it the next best thing to a Bolter. "I count twelve in the trees on the West side of the clearing" "I count eight on my side" Daliwal replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I can't see shit" I said, wishing I had some form of natural night vision, like my creature of the night comrades. "Valkerye" was all Gruk said. "Shit" I muttered. "Language" Gruk gently admonished, without taking her eyes off of the Trees on the edges of the clearing. I followed her gaze out to the trees. I could just barely make out the little pinpoints of white light, that would have been the eyes of the Shitbirds. I whistled lowly. There were a bunch of them out there. I had never seen so many in one place. Usually when there is more than two or three in one spot, they would fight each other. It looked like these assholes were just coping a squat and having a watch. Very odd behavior for Shit Birds. "I've never seen so many..." Daliwal said, a tremor of discomfort in his voice. I noticed that his tail was held down, close to his leg. That might have been a good tactical decision to keep the appendage out of the way....... or it might have been an involuntary fear based response. "Don't let them get to you" Gruk said, her voice soaked in matronly concern. "They never come for us..... just for the dead." "Yeah" I said, turning my attention to the house. "Boss Lady is right. Pay them no mind." I took a sip from the Coffee cup I was still holding. I was intentionally trying to look as nonchalant as possible. Partially for the new guy, partially for the fact that I wasn't going to give the Shit Birds the satisfaction of spooking me twice in one night. I did my best to walk like I didn't have a care in the world. Daliwal looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes widened slightly when he recognized the stylized Alligator on the cup. Toothy Earl's logo. "You were at Toothy Earl's earlier?" He asked me, his ears perking straight up "Was.... Um.... Was Miss Ellie working?" "Yup" I Responded "She was breaking in a New Striper. Didn't go so hot for him" "Ah" The new guy said "Do you happen to know if.... If.... She is...uh... talking to anyone?" "She talks to a lot of people" I said playing dumb "it's part of her job, silly boots" "Oh... Uh... No..." He said, turning back to watch his side of the clearing, and the Valkerye in the Trees beyond. "I meant is she.... In a relationship with anyone?" "Well" I said continuing on in the playing dumb vein "I'm sure she has a lot of relationships, with a lot of people--" "Oh be nice" Gruk grunted at me "You know what he meant." She said to me. To Daliwal she said "Yes there's a fella she talks too, but I don't know if it's serious. Tall, blonde, human, a lot of people think he might really be that one lightning guy, the one with the hammer.... oh what is his name.... oh it doesn't matter." Her voice picked up a little more Growl as she went on. Apparently remembering that we were supposed to be focusing on the task at hand "Both of you need to pay attention to your sectors. Or I'll treat you both like a couple of juice boxs and call out another couple of Dumb Dumbs to back me up, when I've sucked you both dry." "Yes ma'am!" Daliwal said, responding to the matronly authority in her voice. "Yeah" I said, properly scolded, not even attempting to go for the obvious joke there. "Sorry, Boss." She was right. Now wasn't the time for jaw jacking. She had left it unsaid, but there were more Shit Birds out here than anyone had ever seen in one spot. They were acting strangely. This was the quietest 'Millers Call' I had ever been out on. I would wager that it was Gruk's quietest one too. It was too weird of a night to be acting like a dumbass rookie. There was a time to fuck with the new guy and this wasn't it clearly. I followed Gruk's lead and drew my Glock. I checked the RMR site and noticed that my Dot was in fact no longer illuminated on the glass. Like the battery was dead. Fucking Miller's and their spooky ass hoodoo. The rest of the short walk was quiet. I watched the front, where the house was. Gruk and Daliwal watched the sides. They stayed quiet. I would occasionally peek off to the side, at the trees in the distance. White Eyes Beamed back at me, making them look like under dressed sparsely decorated Christmas Trees. I kind of wished we were talking more. As the feeling of all those eyes on me was driving me crazy. Felt like ants skittering up and down my spine. Some light conversation would be great to take the mind off of current events. When we reached the house, Gruk mounted the steps to the porch and paused. She looked around. She tilted her head up to the side and sniffed the air around her. She suddenly tensed up "What?" I asked her. "Blood" She responded "Lots of it. Human." Now were this the movies. The Vampire would look at me like I was a pot roast and get a strange look in her eye. But this isn't the movies and Senior Deputy LaVonda Gruk is a goddamn professional and I'll not have you imply otherwise. She treated it like a call for help and instantly got ready to run into an unknown situation to potentially save a life. She raised her massive pistol and trained it on the door. She motioned to me with her head, telling me to kick the door for her. She looked at Daliwal and patted herself on the backside, wordlessly telling him to stack on her. He nodded and did as he was instructed. I leaned against the opposite side of the door, back against the wall. I raised my leg and swung it back, giving the door a solid donkey kick. The door flew open in an explosion of cheap trim and paint flakes. Gruk and Daliwal flowed into the house. Gruk having to duck down in the doorway, so she wouldn't bang her head on the door jamb. "Sheriff's Department!" She yelled. The living room was empty of life. There was a stone table set up where a coffee table would be in a normal house, with stone bowls and unidentifiable powders in them. Jars full of God knows what lined a massive book shelf that covered an entire wall. Candles lit the space, some burned all the way down. Looked like they had been going for a while. Strange symbols were painted everywhere. I recognized a couple of them, just from being on the job so long.This looked like a Wizard's lab or a Witch's brewery. It probably was too, knowing the Millers. "Clear!" I heard Daliwal yell. His voice a bit more of a roar, with the adrenaline surging through his veins. Gruk looked over at me. She pointed to her nose and than pointed towards a door leading off the living room, she than patted her backside again. I got behind her, ready to go wherever she would take me. Gruk always took point. She was the most likely to survive a Shotgun blast to the face and stay in the fight. So it made good tactical sense. But it was also just the way she led. From the front. We left Daliwal in the living room. To hold our only known exit, in case someone squirted past us. Gruk and I cleared the rest of the house, finding nothing. We came to a stop at a closed door at the end of the main hall. She looked at me and tapped her nose again. I got her meaning. This was where the smell was strongest. I nodded and reached down for the door knob, i jiggled the handle finding it unlocked. I shoved it open and in went Gruk, pistol at the ready. I flowed in behind her. The smell of tangy copper hit me in the snout like a bag of hammers. I involuntarily gagged. I couldn't see anything. It was pitch black. But I knew it was bad. Room smelled like a badly run slaughterhouse. I felt around for a light switch. Found a candlebra instead. 'Good enough' I thought to myself as i dug in my pocket for a lighter. I gave the bic a couple of test flicks. "Wait" Gruk said from somewhere in the darkness. "It's bad. It's real bad." "Yeah" I said. I had gathered that much from the smell. "But how bad can it be?" I lit the candle. It must have been a candle with some magic to it. Because it lit that room like a surgery ward and Gruk was right. It was bad. It was real bad. It was a bedroom. You could tell because a massive California King-size bed occupied the center of the room. The comforter was soaked in reddish brown blood. There was a lump of meat in the center of the bed, that I slowly realized was a woman's torso. On one night stand there were ten neatly severed fingers. In two columns of five each. On the other night stand was a head. Devoid of a face. Just ragged skull staring at the doorway. At the foot of the bed were two legs, crossed over each other like an X. I realized that various organs and bits of body were arranged around the torso in a circle. I looked over at Gruk. She was staring wide eyed at the wall above the headboard. I followed her gaze. The face of Giselda Miller stared back at us from the wall, where it had been nailed up like a trophy on display. Eyeless of course, because the eyes were still in the skull. But I knew that face. It had screamed all matter of venom and curse at me before. There was something weird about this. Well, yeah no shit it was weird. But there was a strange sort of order to where everything was placed in the room. I looked over at Gruk. She looked back at me. I saw her swallow a few times, like she wasn't sure what to make of this all. Her face looked almost helpless and I felt bad for the Giant Orc. "We...." She started to speak. Her voice a little unsteady. She paused and closed her eyes. She swallowed a few more times. "We need to get out of this room" she said, more in control of her voice. "Yeah" I said moving towards the door. I had seen this level of carnage before. Part of the job. People say when you see shit like this enough, eventually you get used to it. Well I'm still waiting on that fucking day. "Forensics will have our butts" Gruk said, command voice firmly back in place "if we mess something up" "Yeah" I said. Not particularly giving a shit why we got out of the room, but just happy to do so. We pulled Daliwal out of the House with us. Gruk closing the door behind us, to preserve the crime scene. We spun him up on what we had seen. His eyes narrowed in thought. "What?" Gruk asked. "Back in Florida. We had a Necromancer in town....." "Awww fuck" I interrupted with a sigh, knowing where this was going. Necromancers were bastards and I didn't want to deal with chasing one down. I had one throw a dead cat at me once. It bit me. Shit was weird. Gruk did that hand-shake shushing thing that mom's do when you were interrupting their shows. She wanted me to stick a sock in it. Probably had a problem with the cursing too. "What you describe...." Daliwal went on "sounds like a ritual she did. We never found out why she did it. We figured out who it was and showed up at her door step with a lot of firepower. She did not come peacefully." The look on his face, and the way he stroked his beard, said it was a bad memory. Gruk had an uncomfortable look on her face too. I couldn't say as I blamed Her. This could be real bad. If somebody was going around killing people for some silly necromancer bullshit..... well my week was about to get a lot fucking busier. It's always something with this fucking town. "Okay" Gruk said "So let's get down past the Gate and see if we can get some back up out here." "Gonna have to wake up the Sheriff" I sighed. "She'll be pissed if we don't. But in the mean time, we need to get people out looking for Mark Miller. His whereabouts are unknown, so that makes him our only suspect at this point." And since the power's that be have a sense of fucking humor...... I heard a rustle of wings above our heads. Right before about two hundred pounds of meat was dropped right in the middle of our little pow-wow. It was a body. The legs caught me square in the chest, knocking me on my ass. The face attached to the body's head, sure looked a lot like Mark Miller's face. Albeit a little more battered and beaten than usual. Dead bodies have a certain look about them and Mark Miller was rocking the fuck out of that look, broken neck and all. All three of us looked up. A Valkerye hovered about twenty feet above us. It's wings wide open, like it was riding a thermal. It's eyes blazed as it glared at us from on high. I had never seen one not skulking in shadows. I had never seen one this brazen. "THE MASTER COMES!" It screeched down at us. Thats when all hell decided to break loose.
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