How the West Was Weird, Vol. 2

by Barry Reese

  Bellingham grinned. “I consider myself an advanced man for these times. Besides, maybe—”

  “Maybe Just Jill is the killer?”

  Bellingham smiled. The supply room suddenly felt very small to both of them. “Maybe you and the Korean are not what you seem.”

  “If I am the wolf,” Jill said, her smile slowly dimming, “then you're going to die. If I'm not, then you're going to beat up a girl. Either way, that's not very advanced.”

  “Tell me why you were coming through the kitchen.”

  Jill's face went hard. “There's three cowboys,” she said, pointing to the forward half of the train, “that roughed up my friend last night and took something of hers that she wants back.”

  Bellingham shook his head. “And you were, what, just going to walk forward and take it from them?”

  Jill stayed silent.

  The Haverton whistled. “You must be a hell of a friend.” His hazel eyes sparkled. “Unless you and the Korean are more than friends.”

  Jill shook her head.

  “She know that?” Bellingham asked. “What are you running from?”

  “Not running from,” she corrected. “Running to. My fiancé.”

  Bellingham's eyes betrayed his surprise and a twinge of jealousy, but they were momentary blips in his cool facade. “Must be a hell of a man.”

  Jill shrugged. “It's an arranged coupling. He gets me and my father gets his money. The night before our wedding he went and got himself kidnapped.”

  Bellingham studied her hard, and his voice was low and measured. “By whom?”

  “Wolves.”

  Bellingham folded his arms across his chest and his face was full of admiration. “So you took off after werewolves to get back a man you're not even in love with?”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “I don't know if I want you to find him or not.”

  “Does your family have millions tucked away some-place?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I need to find him,” she said resolutely.

  They enjoyed looking at each other for a long minute. The Haverton raised his hands to show her the communi-cation device as he stepped into her. “No answer. From anyone. That means hell is on the other side of these doors.” Jill groaned, a mixture of contempt for his cliché and desire for him. Her hands found his athletic, hardened stomach and chest more to her liking than his choice of words.

  “Good thing,” she mumbled, letting her hands roam in the other direction.

  “What's that?”

  “Not married yet,” she said before pulling his face onto hers.

  Unseen by them, the little boy on the prep island rolled onto his stomach to watch. Smiling ruefully, the boy scratched his teddy bear's head, and together they floated to the ceiling, escaping through the open hatch.

  Hanna shivered, unable to let the historical record play forward any further.

  “Why are you crying, lady? Are you afraid?”

  Hanna turned towards the aisle to see a precocious little blonde girl carrying a precocious little blonde doll. “I...”

  “Yes?” the girl asked innocently. “Are you afraid of something?”

  “Not anymore,” Hanna said assuredly. “I want you to know something.”

  “Yes?” the girl giggled.

  Holding up her wrist to show the round scars left by the ruby bracelet, she said, “I've seen your kind before.” Hanna brought her six shooter off her lap and took aim at the little girl's forehead.

  She fired.

  There were five women in the large steam room when Jill and Hanna entered. They'd been on the road from Newport for almost a week, hot on the trail of the kidnapped Dotson Winters. Though Jill and Hanna had no experience tracking werewolves, they'd spent enough time adventuring around the docks growing up, spying in the holds of Jill's father's whaleships to not be complete virgins at this kind of behavior.

  “Over here,” Jill said, tugging on Hanna's white towel and leading her to an empty bench along the right wall.

  Hanna followed, forever Jill’s trailing puppy dog. She took a seat and closed her eyes, concentrating on the steam. Seconds turned to minutes as droplets of sweat covered her skin. No one would help Jill but Hanna – Jill's family didn't have the resources and Dotson's parents made a big show of hiring some Pinkertons to track him down. They thought Jill was a silly girl and weren't in favor of the marriage. Hanna wanted these thoughts gone and so opened her eyes to glance at Jill who had, just as she'd suspected, shed her towel and lay nude on the bench.

  “Knew you'd peek,” Jill teased, and placed her feet on Hanna's thighs.

  Hanna smiled back and removed her own towel. Jill hadn't touched her since the night before her wedding, but danger always made Jill want to play. Men had shot at them on three separate occasions, including this afternoon on their way here, to Saratoga Springs. Hanna knew a fancy spa like this was the kind of place where the Colony was certain to have an agent. Now it was only a matter of find—

  Click.

  Hanna opened her eyes to see a teenaged girl in dirty overalls pointing a gun at her.

  “You're a terrible agent.”

  “I'm not an agent.”

  “Your parents were agents,” the working girl said with an Irish accent, “which means you're either an agent or a traitor. Which is it?”

  “Being in the Colony got my parents killed,” Hanna reminded her. She looked to Jill and then around the room. All of the other women in the steam room were sleeping. “How did you manage this?”

  The girl stashed her gun in one of the overall's pockets. “The steam is drugged. We fed you the antidote during dinner. Didn't you notice the metallic taste in your pasta?”

  Hanna shook her head.

  “Like I said, you're a terrible agent.”

  “Like I said, I'm not an agent. Or a traitor.”

  “Yeah, well, it's time for you to pick a side,” Overalls admonished. “In eight days a train bound for Lincoln will pull in at Kansas City. While parked, a Haverton-secured caboose will sit at the back. On that caboose will be a letter sent from Queen Victoria. You've got to get it for us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you don't, everybody dies.”

  “That hurt!” the little girl yelled as her blown apart skull began to reassemble itself. “I'm going to kill you, and then I’m going to turn you just so you can come back and I can kill you again and again!”

  Hanna responded by planting her back against the wall of the car and kicking the girl forward, knocking her into the empty bench on the opposite wall. The little girl shouted loudly and ran towards Hanna with death in her eyes.

  Hanna didn't hesitate. With the little girl in mid-stride, Hanna drew a second gun from her hip. She fired the gun in her right hand first, and two bullets slammed into the small body. The force of the double blast sent the girl to the floor, shaken but not stopped. Standing over her, Hanna fired the gun in her left hand, and an arc of hot flame shot forward, roasting the little girl alive. Hanna held the trigger of the fire-shooter down, letting the flames pour over the girl, ignoring the stench of burning flesh and screams of agony. She raised her regular gun and blasted out the train's window. Ignoring the pain, Hanna holstered her two guns, picked up the seared girl by her burning clothes, and hurled her off the train.

  Breathing hard, Hanna became aware of eyes on her. Turning to the rest of the car, prepared to offer some kind of explanation, her vision took in a nightmare.

  Everyone in Car 15 was dead.

  Everyone, that is, but one. The Haverton agent stationed in this car was still alive but he wasn't going to be of any help. “I was wondering when you boys would show your true colors,” she grunted to the werewolf in the red coat as she reached again for her guns.

  “What's a Chicago?” Jill asked for a second time.

  “Let it go,” Bellingham said, his voice calm and cool under pressure. “I've got to get to the caboose to protect the cargo.�
��

  Jill folded her arms under her breasts. “Don't act like you didn't hear me.”

  “It's a Haverton code.”

  “For what?”

  “For what happened in Chicago.”

  “And what happened in Chicago?” Jill asked, growing perturbed. “We've got a room full of dead people back there and a werewolf loose on this train. This isn't the time for secrets.”

  Bellingham tapped his earpiece, hoping for any sign from the other agents but knowing nothing would come back to him. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I really am.”

  Jill felt a nervous tickle touch her spine. “Explain,” she snapped.

  “Havertons work for the Queen, you understand,” he said. “We're hired out as private security, but our loyalties are always with the crown. At least, that's how it's supposed to work.” Bellingham leaned back against the metallic shelves and Jill saw the sympathy he felt for her leave his eyes, replaced with the hardened stare of a man who meant to do harm. “Red coats and all. Very historical.”

  “You're slightly less boring than school.”

  “There was a mix-up in London. After President Lincoln was shot, Queen Victoria sent a letter of condolence to Mrs. Lincoln. Someone,” he paused to shake his head, as if with all that was strange in the world this is what caused him the greatest sense of disbelief, “someone put two letters in the wrong envelopes. Mrs. Lincoln was supposed to get a letter of sympathy.” Bellingham reached for his electric shooter and took aim at Jill's heart. “She got the wrong letter. That letter is on this train, and that means everyone on this train has to disappear.”

  “Dammit,” she snapped, slowly backing away. “What's in that letter? If you're gonna kill me you might as well tell me.”

  “Can't,” he frowned. “It's a Chicago.”

  “Devil's balls, Bellingham! What the hell does that-aaarrghhhhh!!!!”

  Jill hit the floor. Bellingham's gun smoldered.

  Hanna aimed both of her pistols at the snarling werewolf. Her classic shooter had only two bullets left, but her fire-shooter was at 75%. Although she was carrying extra bullets, she'd never get a chance to load them. She could hit the wolfman with fire and roast him, but not before he tore her to pieces. Swallowing, she wished she had Jill's ability to say something clever in a tough spot because she never could.

  It had been that way since they were kids. Things weren't going to change now.

  The werewolf snarled and started walking towards her.

  Hanna saw no other choice. She ignited her fire-shooter, drenching the werewolf's fur. As expected, the wolfman rushed her, swiping at her with his powerful claws as his flesh and fur burned.

  Grunting, Hanna took a blow on her left arm and dodged the next. She fired her last two bullets into the wolf's chest, but it didn't still the beast. With a supernatural strength, the wolfman grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her hard against the back door. Hanna's head snapped back, cracking the glass and sending a wave of dizziness through her. The werewolf licked her face.

  Hanna shivered, but got an idea.

  Knowing her fire-shooter was her only option, she pressed the gun into the wolfman's crotch and fired. The werewolf roared and stepped back, his hands going to the place of pain. Steeling herself, Hanna drove her boot into the wolfman's knee, dropping him to the ground. Opening his mouth wide in a mix of pain and anger, the werewolf roared at Hanna.

  “Something clever,” she whispered and jammed the fire shooter into the wolf's mouth.

  Flames erupted inside the wolfman's throat and it jumped backwards, howling in pain and breathing fire. Hanna checked her arm to see that the wolf had scratched her deep. A week ago she’d have been terrified of infection, but now, thanks to Overalls’ gift, she knew it was a wolf’s bite, not scratch, that infected you. Wanting to go forward to Jill, Hanna turned her back on the burning creature and exited through the rear door. There was another bench car, four bedroom cars, two baggage cars, and then the caboose.

  And in the caboose was the letter. If she could get it, all of Jill's problems would vanish. She looked at her guns and tossed them aside. Hanna would have to raid the corpses she knew were waiting for her, hoping for a fully loaded weapon. She said a quick prayer for herself, and then a longer one for the woman she was leaving behind.

  Overalls looked at Jill. “You've been protecting her your whole life, Hanna. We're not asking you to do anything different now. Get that letter and bring it to us. Save the world. Save Jill.”

  “More Colony drama.”

  “Just because it's drama doesn't mean it isn't true,” Overalls snapped. “People collect dangerous artifacts for a reason, and it's not always because they look pretty sitting on a shelf. People look at museums and they see a library full of stuff, but museums aren't libraries, Hanna. They're armories.” The teenager motioned to the sleeping beauties. “These women will only be out for a few minutes.”

  “Then get to the point,” Hanna said.

  “The Colony doesn't know who kidnapped Dotson.”

  “What?”

  “The Colony does—”

  “I heard you. Who did?”

  Overalls took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She didn't have time for this but she could see that Hanna was just going to keep asking questions. Better to say it in one big chunk than ten little ones. “Let's backtrack. What's the Colony, Hanna? It's a network of people from places that have been exploited. Europe finds a new land, sees some-thing it wants, and sets up shop, stripping it bare. Land, people, history, artifacts, minerals, spices… it's all commodity to Europe. They come. They take. They leave. It's the Colony's job to watch what they take and step in to stop them when needed. We're everywhere, hiding in plain sight. We're servants and gardeners and janitors, an entire network of people far nearer the bottom of the economic scale than the top.” Overalls' eyes bored into Hanna's. “In most cases, that is.”

  “What do you mean? Is Jill—?”

  “Not Jill. Dotson's parents,” Overalls explained. “A hund-red years ago the Colony realized they needed to do more than just walk amongst the rich. They needed someone on the inside, and so it was decided that Jackson Winters would begin investing Colony money in successful businesses just as they were ready to expand. The Winters family eventually became part of the social elite.”

  “Dotson thought the Colony was after him.”

  “We are,” Overalls answered, “but it doesn't have any-thing to do with stopping his marriage.”

  “Then why?”

  Overalls took a step forward, looking to Jill as she did. It was a silent message to Hanna to remember what was at stake. “Because the letter that will be on that train was meant for Dotson Winters. He never got it and now everyone is after it. Get it for us and the Colony will pay you enough money to buy Jill's freedom. She won't have to marry Dotson. She can be with whomever she wants.” Overalls tossed Hanna an ornate wrist bracelet. Made of metal, it contained a large ruby inlaid into the surface. Overalls pointed to the bracelet. “Sleep with it on. Before you go to bed, depress the ruby.”

  “Why?”

  “So you know what you need to know,” Overalls said, backing away from Hanna and into the steam. “Whatever you do, don't lose it. It's alien.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Be on that train, Hanna. Whatever it takes.”

  Hanna was caught, but she still had one out to play. “Tell me one thing, kid,” she said slowly. “Why send me? Why not send someone trained at this kind of work?”

  Overalls nodded. “Better. Maybe you won't be such a bad agent.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The Colony is like a global Underground Railroad, Hanna, except instead of getting people out, we’re trying to get artifacts back. Like the UR, we work as a loose collective. I know a few agents, your parents knew a few agents, but nobody knows everyone. That’s too dangerous. When I hear something in the Springs that’s important, I send that info to my contact and she sends that info to hers, but
I don’t know who that is, and that contact doesn’t know who I am. We all operate locally, largely on our own but for a common cause. We have ways of recognizing each other, but I couldn’t tell you more than five or six names in our entire collective. Thing is…” Overalls met Hanna's eyes. The girl suddenly looked very young and very afraid. “Thing is, the Crown's been watching us for nearly a century. They know more about our operations than we do. You want to know what's in that letter, Hanna? It contains the name of nearly every suspected Colony agent in this country. The Crown has been assembling that list for a hundred years and after all this time, Victoria is ready to make her move against us. She sent the letter to an unknown contact in the States to quietly start neutralizing Colony agents. Our agent risked the life of everyone she knew to switch those letters. If we don't get that letter back, everybody's cover is blown, which means every-body is at risk." Overalls was almost pleading now. “We have families, Hanna, and we’re at the bottom of American society. What would your parents have done if they were blackballed from being servants? If some rich merchant has a trinket sitting on his desk as a paperweight, we’re often happy enough to let it be and live our lives so we can be in position for the really dangerous stuff.”

  “But surely the Havertons have made copies of that letter by now?”

  Overalls shook her head. “The Havertons have been compromised. The Queen can't risk that letter being made public, either. The man they're sending to get it back...” Overalls shivered.

  “If the letter is kept quiet, Colony agents can be knocked off without other agents knowing because you’ve got no organizational structure,” Hanna realized. “But if it gets out…”

  “If everybody's cover is blown, then there’s nothing to stop this conflict from going public. That’s why we haven’t spread the news, yet. We don’t want people panicking. The Colony is not in the business of killing people, Hanna, but if it’s us or them…” Overalls let the statement hang in the air. Around them, some of the sleeping women began to stir. “We're playing a shadow game, Hanna, that no one wants to see brought to light.”