Hell's Highwaymen

by Phillip Granath

  “My heart is already dead. Altantseteg waited until I returned home and told me how you defiled her. Then she took a knife and opened her wrists. She is dead, my heart is dead and you my brother are dead,” Batbayer whispered.

  The words chilled Shinji’s blood, and as he stared down into his brother’s eyes, he didn’t see the blow coming. Batbayer gripped one of the stones from the fire circle and smashed it into Shinji’s right temple. The warrior’s world spun, and he collapsed to the ground to lay next to his brother. For the last few heartbeats of his life Shinji lay there with his eyes open but seeing nothing, his world was only darkness now. The last thing he heard before he died was the sound of his warriors thrusting their weapons again and again into Batbayer’s body.

  In the midst of his troubled sleep on the floor of The Rose, Shinji’s hand reached out desperately trying to find his brother as he mumbled pleas for forgiveness.

  Father Callahan shut the bible slowly and leaning forward he rested his head on the worn cover. If any of the other riders would have been awake to see him at that moment, they may have thought he was praying silently, but they would have been wrong. After a time, he shook his head and then with a concerted effort forced himself to rise. He could feel the effects of the boy plainly now, a weariness set deep behind his eyes, it pulled at him, trying to lull him to sleep. The priest stepped over to the lone chair and gave the sleeping Jerry a gentle shake. The little man continued to snore in his quiet but nasally sort of way. Father Callahan shook him with more force, but again Jerry didn’t respond.

  “Rise and shine Tinkerbell,” the priest said aloud now shaking Jerry with force.

  Jerry responded by pitching forward out of the seat and landing face first on the wooden porch. For a moment Father Callahan just watched in disbelief and then Jerry began to snore softly again. The priest just shook his head and then said quietly to himself.

  “The boy.”

  Stepping back inside of the saloon the priest found Danny just where he had left him. The Syringe in the boy’s arm had reappeared and was at least for the moment unused. Father Callahan reached over and pulled the needle from Danny’s arm. He then tossed it aside quickly loath to even touch the thing. Glancing around the room the priest noticed that Al’s tray of shots sat again on the bar, he crossed the room and scooped up a shot quickly downing the red liquor. He then took a breath and carried a half dozen of the shot glasses back over to the boy. Unceremoniously he upended the glasses in one quick motion over Danny’s head.

  Almost immediately the boy awoke, spitting, cursing and trying to wipe the bloody liquor from his face.

  “What the fuck man?” Danny demanded.

  The priest wasn’t paying attention to Danny though, his eyes were up and looking at the rest of the riders. Just as Father Callahan had suspected the moment, Danny had awoken the rest of the rider had followed suit. Cort looked up from the table blinking suspiciously and obviously confused. Jamie leapt from the table one of his Schofield’s flying onto his hands. He looked around eager for something to kill and managed to look menacing while he did it, even with a poker chip plastered to his cheek. Shinji simply rolled over and looked contemplatively down at his hands, his face an unreadable mask.

  Just then Jerry pushed his way through the doors and looked around the room with a slight look of confusion on his face.

  “Did we all sleep? Did we all dream?” he asked.

  Cort looked up from the table his eyes were wide, and the man looked visibly shaken. In his short time, here in hell, it wasn’t a look Jerry had ever seen on the Cavalryman’s face. Though he had seen this seemingly unstoppable man face down both armed men and monstrous demons. Cort met Jerry’s eyes for a moment, and he blurted.

  “I had a daughter and a wife.”

  Not sure what else to do Jerry sat down at the table with the Cavalryman and Father Callahan joined them a moment later.

  “It was late in the war you see,” Cort began, “and we were tasked with following Old Billy Sherman right down through the heart of Georgia. The cavalry covered his flanks all the way to the damn coast, riding scout and finding forage to feed the army.”

  Cort paused for a moment and let out a long breath. Then just when Jerry thought he wouldn’t speak again, he continued.

  “Word spread like wildfire on the wind before us. Talk of how we were burning every mill, laying low ever field and killing any livestock we couldn’t steal. Some of it was just talk, but a lot of wasn’t. The people started to fight back, not Confederate soldiers or even militia. Just farmers, fighting for all they had left in the world.”

  “One day, we got ambushed crossing a wide creek. A single volley from a dozen rifles in the trees killed two of my men outright and wounded three more. Later that day we caught up with those that had bushwhacked us. It turned out an old farmer, his sons, and a half a dozen slaves had been the ones that shot us up. It didn’t matter to them the politics of the war, all they knew is that we had invaded their home, threatened their livelihood,” Cort looked up at the riders, his eyes now damp with tears.

  “My boys were angry you see, at the deaths of their friends and at being caught up in the war at all I guess. So, they took it out on those prisoners, and I just stood by and watched it happen. I didn’t say a word as they beat that man, his sons and those slaves to death. Then I ordered his crops, his house, everything he had ever wrought in the whole of the world burned to ash. We rode away from that place and less than a month later into Savannah,” he said.

  “It was…war,” was all Jerry could muster in reply.

  “That excuse works well enough in the daylight. But at night as you lay awake, alone in the darkness, it doesn’t give a man much solace. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t sleep at all. Not without seeing that man and the rest of them, their bodies twisted and broken, again and again, night after night. So, I left the army,” Cort said.

  He paused then, his eyes dancing around the room for a moment and then added, “Deserted I mean, I just went home.”

  “I was running scared I guess you could say. I didn’t try and hide my movement, cover my tracks or even change out of my uniform. I was home less than a week when word got around that I had returned. The Home Guard knocked at our door just after supper one evening. They are the ones tasked with rounding up deserters and keeping the peace in general while most of the men were away fighting. It’s made up of men too old, boys too young or men went lame in some way. They tend to be a bit twitchy I guess you could say,” Cort looked down at the bare table in front of him.

  “I killed two of them right there on my own porch, shot them down right in front of my wife and my little girl.”

  The Cavalryman reached up untied the yellow bandana that had perpetually been tied around his neck and tossed it aside. The skin of his neck was torn and bruised, the outline of a twisted rope was painfully clear.

  “Those boys hung me from a tree in front of my own house, in front of my family,” he said.

  The room went silent as each man seemed for at least a moment to be reflecting on their own families, their own loved ones they had left behind.

  “I couldn’t even remember that they even existed until now,” Cort said looking directly at Father Callahan.

  And then he asked simply, “Why is that?”

  “I have a thought,” the priest replied and then looking around at the riders added, “Everyone have a seat.”

  The outlaws all pulled up chairs around the table and surprisingly even Jamie did so without complaint. Once they were all seated Father Callahan took a deep breath and then spoke.

  “It seems clear that Danny is a very unusual soul. If my suspicions are correct, he may have died in what we call, a state of grace. In short, it forgives him for all of his sins. That makes him special, and it seems to make him radiate…well, life it seems, like a hot stove gives off heat. Tell me, does anyone here feel the pull right now? Or the need to drain a soul?”

  The riders looked arou
nd the table at one another, but no one spoke.

  “It’s him, he is doing that. When he is around, we can remember things, good things, from our lives that we couldn’t before. Cort what was your daughter’s name?” he asked quickly.

  The cavalryman thought for a moment and then replied, “Charlotte.”

  “Did you remember that before your little nap? Before Danny arrived?” the priest asked and Cort shook his head in reply.

  “But how could we forget something as important as our families in the first place?” Oliver asked.

  “I think it’s because memories like that, they can give you strength. They can give you hope,” the priest offered.

  “And since this is hell, memories like that are denied us?” Jerry asked nodding his head.

  Father Callahan paused for a long moment, and the said, “Perhaps, but let’s leave that for a moment.”

  “When Paradox first appeared to us and started talking about the Hounds, he mentioned a lake,” the priest continued.

  “The Master’s Lake he called it,” Cort said with a nod.

  “How many lakes have we seen in this place?” Father Callahan asked.

  “You know we haven’t seen no damn lake,” Jamie snapped.

  “Well, I did some reading,” the priest said raising his bible.

  “Lakes are only mentioned four times in the good book. And it’s always in reference to The Lake of fire.”

  “And what exactly is, The Lake of Fire?” Oliver asked.

  “It’s a place where the souls of the damned burn in seething agony for all of eternity. In short, it’s hell.”

  “But Padre, this is Hell,” Cort pointed out.

  “How do you know that Cort?” the priest replied.

  “Well it's pretty fucking terrible for one,” Oliver cut in.

  “Everything here is old and rotted and just, well, shitty,” Jamie pointed out.

  “The demon’s kind of gave it away for me,” Jerry added.

  “But remember what else Paradox said? He said there are Angels here also,” Father Callahan pointed out.

  “Angels? I definitely ain't seen no Angels,” Jamie said.

  “That’s true, but why would there be Angels in Hell? That makes no sense at all. Demons live in Hell and Angels lives in heaven, that simple.”

  The riders shared with one another a series of concerned looks. It was clear to Jerry that they weren’t liking what they were hearing. It was forcing them to question something they had taken as fact for a very long time.

  “Who told you this was Hell? I mean was there a sign somewhere I missed?” Jerry asked.

  “Congratulations! Your dead, welcome to Hell!” he added looking around the room.

  At first, no one replied. Oliver just looked down at his hands and slowly shook his head.

  “The Prussian. He told me this was Hell when I first joined this group,” the cavalryman said.

  “The Prussian?” Jerry asked.

  “He ran this little posse before me. We were a lot bigger back then,” Cort explained.

  “How did he know this was Hell?” the priest asked.

  “He never did say, and I never asked,” Corts replied with a sigh.

  “Someone tells you that you’ve been damned to Hell for all eternity and you didn’t even question it?” Jerry blurted out.

  The Cavalryman turned and shot Jerry a hard look, “I don’t remember you asking a lot of fucking questions when we picked you up!”

  For a moment Jerry was taken back by Cort reply, but the man was right. “He’s right, I didn’t really question it. Why didn’t I question it?”

  “I think that’s part of it too,” Father Callahan said.

  “This place doesn’t want us to feel joy, hope or even to question our surroundings. I doubt that if we didn’t have Danny with us now that we would even be having this conversation. Asking these questions,” the priest pointed out.

  “This place wants us to suffer,” Oliver said.

  “Yes, but in a very specific way,” the priest replied.

  “It wants us to relive all of the most terrible moments of our lives,” Cort said, and from his tone alone Jerry could tell the man was now convinced.

  “Sounds pretty Hell like to me,” Oliver said.

  “There may be another option,” the priest replied.

  “God damn you priest! If your Bible says something then just fucking say it!” Jamie shouted obviously frustrated.

  “It doesn’t, not a word about any of this,” the priest admitted.

  “But there is something that is recognized by almost all Christian religions, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and a score of others. It is a state of being somewhere between Heaven and Hell. A place where souls go to be cleansed, to be treated and to be purified before receiving their final judgment.”

  The priest then paused for a long moment.

  “That place is called Purgatory.”

  Struggles

  “It makes sense now, Paradox’s plan to collect souls here I mean. If he can keep the dead from reaching their rewards in Heaven or their punishments in Hell. Then what becomes the point of it all? The whole system, life, and death, it all breaks down,” Cort said aloud.

  “So, with Danny on hand Paradox could keep the souls here. None of them would feel compelled to walk towards…towards…” Jerry began, but his voice failed him before he could finish the thought.

  “Towards judgment,” Father Callahan said.

  “And what does that look like exactly?” Jerry asked suddenly not sure if he really wanted an answer.

  “And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works,” Father Callahan read from his Bible.

  He looked up meeting the eyes of the stunned riders and then added, “That’s Revelations 20:12 and it’s about the best King James has to offer us in the way of a description.”

  “A fucking book?” Jamie demanded.

  “The Book of Life, yes,” he replied.

  “So that pull we all feel is leading us towards a Book? A book that is going to judge if we go to Heaven or to Hell then?” Jerry asked shaking his head.

  “Not just the book,” the priest replied and then looking down again read.

  “And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire. That’s Revelations 20:15, it seems that if we find the book, we find the lake.”

  “The Master’s Lake, the fucking lake where the Demons drag all of those souls off too. Well isn’t that just fucking great!” Cort scoffed.

  “Even more reason to avoid that fucking place!” Jamie said nodding in agreement.

  The Cavalryman didn’t reply he just nodded slowly, but Jerry watched his eyes. They found Oliver’s and the men shared a glance, a brief moment of understanding passed between the two of them. The Dragoon looked down at his hands then and asked.

  “So, if we haven’t been to the book yet, then we haven’t been judged is that it?” Oliver asked.

  “It would seem so,” the priest nodded.

  “Then the things we have done here, in this place, do they still count against us do you think?”

  The priest looked around the table of waiting faces and looked uncomfortable for a moment before he spoke.

  “This place was intended to give sinners a chance to suffer through their worst moments again and reflect on the things they have done and then repent before judgment. I can only guess, but yes I think it would work both ways. I think everything we have done here, I think it most definitely counts,” Father Callahan replied.

  “Well isn’t that a pisser!” Oliver said.

  The room went quiet for a long moment then as each of the riders went silent. Each man seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Jerry realized each must be trying to mentally tally up all of the wrongs they had committed, both in life a
nd then during their time after death.

  “What would it cost do you suppose?” Cort asked

  “What would what cost?” Jerry asked.

  “He means salvation, entry into the kingdom of God and the answer is, only God can know,” the priest replied.

  “What the fuck? What were you planning on buying your way in with?” Jamie demanded angrily.

  Cort shrugged at the question and replied, “The only form of currency heaven takes I guess.”

  “What the fuck? Are you talking about going straight?” Jamie demanded, jumping to his feet.

  “It’s not like we got a lot of opportunities for good deeds in this place,” Oliver pointed out ignoring Jamie.

  “Maybe not, but I think we got at least one,” he said.

  Every head at the table turned to look at the seat where Danny sat against the wall. The boy was slumped forward with his eyes half closed. It was clear that while the men had been talking Danny had been shooting up.

  “You have gotta be shitting me?” Jamie said.

  “Do we have any other choice?” The Cavalryman countered.

  “Think about it. We can sit here and when Paradox returns we end up his peons for eternity. During which he is going to try and take on, not only Heaven but also Hell, at the same fucking time. Now that’s a fight nobody is going to fucking win,” Cort said glancing around at the faces of his men before continuing.

  “We could just say fuck it and run, leaving the boy here. But Paradox will get him and eventually he’ll rule this whole damn place. And sooner or later he’ll come after us just as he promised,” the riders nodded in near unison at Cort’s words.

  “Or maybe we can try and get the boy to that damned book.” Cort began.

  “The Book of Life,” the priest cut in again.

  “Whatever. If we can get Danny to that fucking book and he’s been forgiven of all sins like you say then maybe he gets to hop a train out of this shit hole. We take him off the board, out of Paradox’s reach and we prevent a civil war in the afterlife. Now that has got to be worth something to the man upstairs,” Cort said raising his hands mockingly towards the heavens.