by RW Krpoun
“There was a time when I would have called a man who told a story like that a liar,” Captain observed, chewing in a toothpick. “Now all I got to ask is whether they captured any dynamite at the battle.”
“Sanchez didn’t have much, and what he did was still loaded on the mules, which bolted. So the answer is not much or none.”
“It’s just us now,” Mac observed soberly.
“We haven’t been sittin’ idle, hoss,” Captain assured me. “After we split up we headed over to Sinaloa like we planned. We kept a close watch on the sly from the ridge, and in the late afternoon we grabbed ourselves a dispatch rider, and another a few hours later, the first going out, the second coming in. Both Chuj boys.”
“You would think he would be running low on them, given the way we’re knocking those boys off,” I observed. “How many people live in in the Yucatan, anyway?”
“A lot less now. It’s like we figured: Sinaloa is the hub of operations for this bunch. The messages were in code but one of the monks made short work of it.”
“Handy bunch you’ve got here,” I observed to Brother Andrew.
“Knowledge of languages and puzzles is not a warlike skill,” the monk sighed.
“Seems there’s three main forces in the field,” Captain continued. “There’s the bunch bringing in the sunstone, which is going slow because of having to move it by sledge, there’s Green Coat, who is the right-hand-man of this whole operation, and there’s another group to the northwest who is scouring the area for bodies.”
“How many crazies do they need?”
“Good question. I suspect they’re going to err on the side of excess. Anyway, yesterday your horse showed up at the gate looking annoyed, and we figured you were dead or afoot. Me, Nhi, and Mac were getting ready to head out this morning to look for you, but you saved us the trip.”
“Meanwhile the monks and kids have been forting up the place,” Mac observed and then lapsed into silence.
“Yeah, about that, most of the locals decided to show a clean pair of heels,” Captain shook his head. “We’ve got twenty left who will fight.”
“Twenty who will fight are better than forty who are uncertain,” I grinned. “Plus there’s us.”
“That there is. We let some of the stuff we captured go with those who left, but we hung on to the Mausers and all the ammunition for them. And the machinegun, of course.”
“You and Mac put your evil minds together on what we can do with that dynamite,” I pushed my plate away with a sigh. “I am going to get a wash and some sleep unless there is pressing business demanded of me.” A thought struck me. “Brother Paul, why is the necromancer just moving the sunstone now? Seems to me he could have moved this entire business up a month and had his whole recipe in hand when this sun calendar period started. ”
“Everything in this ‘process’, to use a word, is dependent upon the position of the stars,” the monk explained earnestly. “The liquid you saw them employing to create zombies can only be made at a specific time, for example, and that time was less than two months ago. I have yet to see any examples of wasted time that were not introduced by our actions.”
“But he could have had the sunstone sitting in a warehouse in Sinaloa, and all the other stuff dug up.”
“Actually, it was better lying where it was. Recall that when these items were in regular use they were kept in places sacred to the users and tended by numerous devotees. The greatest risk the necromancer faces is that these items, particularly the sunstone, could be defiled by unplanned contact. Purification of such items would be difficult in the time he has left.”
“How do you defile something that is used for Human sacrifice?”
“ ‘Defile’ is not the precise word; perhaps ‘contaminate’ is a better term. In any case, because they are out here without the infrastructure to support the items the risk is very real. The path of least risk is exactly the method he is using.”
“Glad to hear he has things well in hand,” I said drily. “Someday I’m going to go up against a stupid man just to see what it feels like. How long until the dance starts?”
“When the sunstone arrives,” Mac said. “From the messages we got, figure the day after tomorrow.”
“Green Coat will be here by then,” I sighed. “I expect the other force will show up, too, given this bunch is working like a good watch.”
“Pretty much,” the big man agreed.
“If he shows up like we expect it gives him about ten days to take this place, more or less” Captain pointed out.
“Yeah, well, we might have something to say about that. I’m for bed. Did anyone remember to feed Sibley?”
Five hours of sleep, a bath, clean clothes, and another meal made me feel like a new man, albeit a battered and travel-worn man.
The orphanage was a bustle of activity; Brother Andrew might be sworn to non-violence, but he was getting the maximum distance out of what slack there was in that rope. The weakest parts of the walls were shored up with what timbers were available, and behind the weak spots barricades were being built of field stone, sacks and barrels filled with earth, even the wagons we had brought in were tipped on their sides and staked in place.
Nhi accompanied me as I walked the small perimeter, keeping her thoughts to herself as usual. “He’s done a lot,” I admitted when we had finished. “Breaching the walls will only be one step in the process.”
“There is a chance,” she nodded solemnly. “But much will depend upon us.”
“You still game?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Yeah, so am I. Brother Andrew made the right choice not trying to move the kids; here on familiar ground there won’t be any surprises. Sanchez’s fight made me see that we’re up against something far more organized than I had realized.”
“I’m glad you survived,” she said off-handedly.
“Yeah, that pleased me, too,” I winked at her, and she grinned.
That evening I sat down at the dinner table opposite Sibley. “How are you doing?”
“All right,” he nodded.
“Four days ago I sent a rider north with my report on you and the bank account numbers. By now the letter is about a day and a half’s ride from a Pinkerton section sitting on a telegraph line, so you’ll never see that money again; it will be in the hands of its rightful owners long before you walk free. It is important you understand this, because even if you left on a fast horse tonight you would never get to the banks in time.”
“I understand,” he said calmly.
“What I am going to offer you is a choice: you can stay in your cell, and when we’re done we’ll take you north and you will face a trial. Or when the time comes you can stand with us on the walls and fight, and when it is over I’ll advise my employers that you disappeared during the fighting, possibly dead. We’ll give you a horse, weapons, and some of the money you had on you when we caught you. It’s not tea and crumpets with a red-haired Russian beauty, but it isn’t prison.”
“She was Hungarian,” he observed quietly. “And despite the circumstances you found us in, quite a good woman, albeit rather excitable. I would be proud to help defend these children, regardless of what you will do afterwards.”
“All right. You’ll understand if we keep you close until the moment of truth.”
He smiled crookedly. “Yes.”
It hadn’t been an easy decision for me to make, but the fact was he was a lot more use up on the walls than he would be in irons on his way back north. The railroad would get its money back and would have to be happy with that. Even so, I had been a by-the-book, follow-the-colors sort for thirty-two years man and boy, and the decision had come hard.
Wurfel didn’t get a choice: he was staying, and staying under lock and key. I had no doubt he would cut and run, and given that he had had a good look at the preparations inside the presidio we could not let him be captured by the enemy. He was going to have to ride this one out as an unwilling spectato
r and hope for the best. It would have helped if I had completely believed he had been a captive, but I still wasn’t sure.
I spent the late afternoon and evening helping build barricades with adobe bricks. It was hard, mindless work which I welcomed. I had done more thinking in the last couple weeks than I had done in any given year of my life, and my brain was about worn out from the strain. I am not a man given to deep thought nor a questioning nature-I take the world as it is and leave the larger issues in the Lord’s hands.
Later that evening I attended Confession and then Mass. With death in my near future it was important to get my affairs fully in order.
We were up at the crack of dawn to resume our efforts to increase the defensive capabilities of the place. There was only so much we could do-the walls weren’t all that much to work with, and while we did our best to fortify the individual buildings, none were exactly made of granite.
“The key is going to be to keep them clear of the walls,” Captain observed during a rest break. “Which is going to be damned hard given our numbers. We’ve got twenty shooters, ourselves, and a fireworks brigade.”
“If they come from all sides we’ll be spread damned thin,” Mac agreed. “But the south and east have those irrigation ditches, which the crazies will have a hard time crossing. I expect they’ll come at the north and west, maybe a demonstration on one and an all-out push at the other.”
“The necromancer won’t have to worry about losses,” I nodded, taking a drink of lukewarm water. “Any he loses here he can make up in the next town he comes across.”
“Not anymore-Brother Paul told us about that while you were off stealing dynamite and Mexican horses. Seems that the time to make the snake oil has passed. All he has is what he has left,” Captain grinned. “And he’s been using a lot.”
“Does it go bad?”
“Yeah. Not sure how long its got, but it will spoil.”
“So he’s betting it all on one run at the table. If he doesn’t get the kids, he’s left with nothing but a declining bunch of crazies.”
“Sounds like. Brother Paul said the carriers stop being infectious after a while, too.”
“I really wonder what the blazes he is trying to do. You know, if he got the kids.”
“Nothing good, that’s for certain.”
“You have the right of that.”
Captain spent the afternoon working with the twenty volunteers, teaching them the mysteries of stock weld, sight picture, and the soft controlled squeeze. He was a patient and thorough teacher, and they responded well.
Besides the twenty peons who had stayed (all of whom had sent their families away) the presidio held six monks, two nuns, four Novitiates, eleven Chinese, and sixty-one children, not counting the four still out scouting. They had a good well and a month’s worth of food for all hands, not that I expected the necromancer to undertake a siege of any sort.
Nhi and I walked the wall yet one more time when the adobe bricks ran out. We encountered Brother Andrew on the northeast tower, smoking a cheroot and studying the Chuj.
“See anything interesting?”
He glanced at me. “Not yet. The Chuj are not soldiers, nor tribal warriors either. They are simply hard men doing hard work in the hopes of something, bringing back the old days would be my guess.”
“Before the Spanish arrived.”
“Yes.”
“Fat chance.”
“I agree, but such things motivate men. The necromancer would never balk at lying to his followers.”
“I’m sure of that. He must be pretty persuasive- quite a few of the tribe have gone dead in the last few days.”
Brother Andrew shrugged. “They believed in magic long before he found them, Brother Paul tells me. They see spirits in trees and stone, and they dream dreams handed down to them by their grandfathers, who heard them from their grandfathers. The Spanish and the Mexican governments have mistreated them, and they do not understand the world they see encroaching upon their homes. Such is dry tinder indeed for the sort of flame men like the necromancer peddle.”
“I’ve got bad news for them.”
“Indeed. There is no scenario to this matter which ends in their favor. Some may be realizing this fact-our scouts report a couple desertions.” He glanced over at me. “Five being murdered in their beds certainly didn’t boost their morale.”
“Not to change the subject, but we came across two girls who had seen hard use a few days ago. Where are they?”
“We sent them off with the rest who left.”
“You know, there must have been kids in that group-most of these men have families.”
“There were, but not just any children will do. It is not like making a pie with peaches because you have no pears, Mister Peak; the necromancer must have what he must have, and nothing less.”
“So if we put all the kids into a building and added the dynamite, and threatened to light the fuse he would have to back down, right?’
The monk sighed. “In theory, yes. However, he is a man of considerable intellect, and such a man would know that no one with that sort of outlook is in this fort.”
“Too bad, I thought I was onto something. It’s a shame you can’t bless them in such a way they won’t work.”
The monk shook his head. “The curse of it is that I have created this situation. There are endless criteria that must be met for these children to be of use; as I told you, their origins and histories are certainly part of it. Another is the fact that they must be…well, happy is a possible word.”
“Happy?”
He sighed. “As I said, it is not an exact term. Do you know much about orphanages, Mister Peak? Few are happy places, even amongst those run by the Church. They sent us here, understaffed and underfunded, to an abandoned old fort and we managed to create a home for these children, a place with a sense of safety and of family, a place where these children can see the love the Lord has for them. And now that success, that good work, is exactly why they are of value to this madman.” His flicked the butt of his little cigar over the wall. “It has tested my vows. I see the rifles and think of many excuses to use my old skills against this man.” He smiled tiredly. “But such is the curse of the flesh. We must be humble in thought and deed.”
“We can hold, Brother Andrew.”
“The Lord will protect us, of that I am certain. But the way is narrow and the path is always hard. You and others will man the battlements, while I remain below and pray. Between us we shall see our righteous goals accomplished.”
“What is that?” Nhi pointed.
“Looks like a dust cloud, riders coming from the north,” I said after staring intently in the direction she was pointing. “Can’t be the necromancer’s boys, it’s the wrong direction.”
“Too many for Chuj,” Nhi said thoughtfully. “Anymore, that is,” she added with a guilty glance at Brother Andrew, who sighed again.
“We need to keep our binoculars handy,” I said as I ran down to get them and my Krag besides. We were getting too complacent about what the enemy was inclined to do.
“More dust,” Brother Andrew pointed out two columns to the southwest and southeast. “I expect those will be the flanking forces of zombies.”
There were nine riders heading our way, a tight, tough-looking group, heavily armed and serious. Seven vaqueros, two spare horses carrying pack saddles, Red Hawk, and one large man.
“I’ll be dipped,” I lowered my glasses. “That’s the Judge.”
He was wearing a broad flat-crowned hat, his green glasses, a loose cotton shirt, and old riding breeches tucked into tall boots; the ivory-grip cross-draw Colt and a Springfield Model 1903 rounded out his ensemble. “Seth Peak,” he grinned, teeth flashing beneath his mustaches, as he swung himself down from a tall gray. “I expected to see you a lot sooner than this.”
“It has been a very strange time down here.” I shook his hand with real pleasure. “I take it you got my letter.”
“Yes, an
d frankly I thought you had given up drinking.”
“I’m thinking about starting. I’m glad you came.”
“I had to have a look-its not often you hear a story quite so wild. Your other letters should be north of the Rio Grande tomorrow, by the way.”
“Thanks for that. So you came to run down a ghost story? Well, give it an hour and we’ll settle the matter. Judge, this is Brother Andrew, the Church’s man here.”
After all the introductions were made the Judge and I climbed up onto the northwest tower, Nhi on our heels. “Seriously, Seth, what in blazes is going on? That letter read like you had been eating peyote.”
“And yet here you are.”
He bobbed his head. “If it was just your letter I would have figured you as loco and gone on about my business.”
“Getting other reports?”
“More than a few. A few refugees; too few, really. And a note from an old friend in Mexico City asking after an agent of his, who hinted at what you said openly.”
“Yeah, we found what was left of his man.”
“So what the hell is going on, Seth?”
“The dead walk, and do the bidding of evil men,” I waved at the dust clouds. “There are two groups closing in, and a third will be close behind. The man behind all this wants the orphans as some sort of sacrifice.”
“To what end?’
“I couldn’t tell you. Something really bad, I’m sure.”
He removed his hat and wiped the inner brim, then settled it back into his head. “Seth, this is 1912. The 20th Century. A modern world of steamships, telegraphs, and horseless carriages.”
“Yeah, it is. Still doesn’t change what is going on.”
“Look, the peons are uneducated and gullible; more are closer to pagan than not. You can’t trust what they say in situations like this.”
“True. The thing is that I’ve been shooting dead men for eight days. You have to hit them in the head, by the way.” I grinned at the way he stared. “Don’t bust a blood vessel pondering it, Judge, there are a few hundred heading this way. Before the day is out you can get a good look for yourself.”
