Hell's Highwaymen

by Phillip Granath

  In that split-second, Jamie felt an odd tug at his soul, nothing alarming, more like someone had accidentally bumped into a full washbasin. The waters of his soul sloshed around a bit, but none spilled out, and definitely, none was drained away. Jamie looked up at the big man and just gave him a sad little shake of his head. Even Jerry had put up a better fight than that he thought. He knew he could have this big boy drained and walking husk in under 10 seconds, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Wounding or even killing a few of these boys wouldn’t amount to much, but if he drained one dry, Cesar might take exception.

  Jamie decided sticking to some good old violence was the way to go. So almost casually he held up his pistol for the pinned Biker to see. The barrel was splattered with blood and still smoking. He cocked the hammer back smoothly and then pushed the muzzle flatly against the man’s closest kneecap. A second later the biker’s joint exploded in a bloody spray of bones and cartilage. The ruined limb folded back on itself almost immediately. The biker collapsed to the floor next to his friend screaming in pain, his grip on Jamie’s arm forgotten.

  The gunfighter immediately spun around to face the rest of the gang members. One man, in particular, was closer than any of the rest. He had moved in while Jamie’s back had been turned and held a broken bottle in his hand. But upon seeing Jamie turn the biker seemed to have reconsidered his current course of action. He dropped the bottle and turned as if to flee. Unfortunately for him, Jamie wasn’t done making examples and Jamie causally shot the fleeing biker twice in the back. The man dropped like a stone without saying a word.

  The remaining bikers, still two dozen strong began to spread out now to form a rough circle around the gunfighter. Each man held a weapon of some kind, knives, lengths of pipe and chain. A few even carried guns, a small pistol or two here, a sawed-off shotgun there. Jamie had once remarked to Cort that he thought it rather peculiar that so few of the Horde’s bikers carried guns. From what Jamie had seen it seemed like the guns of the future were technical marvelous that could be fired for days. Father Callahan feeling the need to interject, as he always did, then pointed out that in most places committing a crime while even just carrying a gun carried with it serious punishments. So, in turn, many criminals preferred carrying knives and other handheld weapons rather than firearms.

  Jamie had to shake his head at the thought. If the bikers had carried guns more often in life then maybe they would have them here in death and actually have a better chance to go up against him now. Jamie grinned broadly and looked around at the gathered bikers. Then in another sign of the contempt, he held them in, Jamie holstered the pistol that he did have in hand.

  “Big fucking mistake shit kicker!” one of them called out.

  “We going to fuck you up pretty boy!” shouted another.

  “Going to make what you did to our brothers there look like kid stuff!” one biker said.

  “Then we're going to drain you dry and send you walking!” another said with a laugh.

  “Hay-hay, good-bye!” several of the men began to call out and wave at Jamie.

  “You stupid fucking pendejos!” a voice shouted above it all.

  The group went suddenly quiet, and heads began to turn and look for the source of the voice. A moment later the crowd parted, and Cesar stepped through, his men giving him a respectful amount of space. Jamie couldn’t help but grin every time he saw the Mexican gang leader. The man was short, probably the shortest member of the group. He was on the heavier side, and it showed in a rounded puffy face and a gut that would have looked comical on anyone else. Below the gut, a heavy black revolver was shoved in his belt. Cesar liked to jokingly refer to as his “Little Python.”

  “Don’t none of you stupid bastards know who this is?” Cesar asked aloud.

  “A fucking shit kicking caballero!” one man shouted in reply, which elicited a few cautious laughs.

  Cesar didn’t laugh, his eyes were locked on Jamie’s, and the gunfighter very pointedly didn’t look away. The gang leader glanced at the door, and Jamie knew the man had to be wondering why he was here in his clubhouse, in his city. And perhaps even of more interested in why Jamie appeared to be in it alone.

  Finally, Cesar grinned, “Well that much is true, he is a caballero. In fact, he was probably the fasting fucking gun in the old West…that no one has ever fucking heard of.”

  Jamie cracked a smile at the thinly veiled insult.

  “Just Imagine Billy the Kid,” Cesar continued looking around at the gang members, “Given another hundred years to practice in hell.”

  The reaction was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Jamie could see it now as Cesar’s words sunk in. The gunfighter having had dealt with more than his fair share of angry crowd’s out for his blood. It was in the way that the bikers shifted their weight from side to side now instead of leaning forward as they had been. It was in the quick glances they shared, each looking for someone else to make the first move. Lips were chewed, and hands were clenched into fists repeatedly. Jamie glanced around at the crowd. These were tough, violent men, survivors one and all. Anyone that rode the desolate plain to reap the souls of others had to be. If pushed, it didn’t matter by whom these men would push back. As the room hung on the edge of violence Jamie decided he had danced along that edge long enough.

  “Cesar, did you just say this was Hell? Shit, this whole time I just thought I was in West Texas!” Jamie said grinning.

  For half of a heartbeat there was only silence, and then Cesar let out the deep bellied laugh that Jamie remembered. Many of his men followed his lead laughing harder and louder at the comment then anyone would normally have. With the laughter, the tension melted away and flowed out of the room. Not everyone laughed, and many just shook their head and turned back to the bar again. Most found that their drinks had vanished while they were away and the bartender soon found himself swamped with angry demands for drinks.

  Cesar stepped forward and gave Jamie the slightest of nods, about the closest thing one could expect to a handshake in a place where human contact drained your very soul. Cesar’s eyes then shifted pointedly to the three bikers laying on the floor.

  “Now what in the fuck do we have here?” Cesar asked looking pointedly at the gut shot man.

  “Nothing, nothing boss. We was just having some fun with this fella. Kinda a joke like,” the man stammered in reply his hands still gripping the bleeding hole in his midsection.

  “A joke?” Cesar asked

  The gang leader nudged the still dead man with the toe of his boot added.

  “It doesn’t look like Billy found your joke very funny.”

  “No worries boss, no worries,” the man with the ruined leg stammered in fear.

  “Just give us a few minutes, and we’ll all be right as rain, you’ll see.”

  Cesar turned his head slightly to his right, and Jamie realized the gang leader was making sure that he was watching.

  “I like jokes. I don’t mind jokes at all,” Cesar announced aloud and the bar quieted down yet again.

  “What I do mind is motherfuckers feeling like they can just lay around on the floor of my club bleeding alongside their dead ass friends,” Cesar said, and Jamie watched the fear settle over the pair of wounded men.

  “Hey, why don’t somebody take these boys for a walk!” Cesar said taking a few steps backward.

  The reaction amongst the gang was sudden and vicious. Glasses of booze were tossed aside, and bikers rushed forward each pushing and shoving one another. They fell upon the three men like a pack of hungry wolves. Dozens of hands fell upon exposed flesh, and the unfortunate struggling men were drained in a matter of heartbeats. Billy came back to life screaming as he awoke to find his once friends now sucking his soul away. As Jamie watched, he knew this was all for him. Cesar was willing to sacrifice three of his own men just to send the gunfighter a very clear message. Here Cesar ruled, Jamie’s skills and speed, they meant nothing compared to the power Cesar wielded. Jamie just shook his he
ad, he knew Cort would never have wasted lives like this. The lieutenant would have done the dirty work himself.

  As the last of the screams died away the crowd of bikers parted leaving the drained souls laying haphazardly on the floor. The men were grinning and laughing. Jamie knew what they were all feeling flush with the stolen life that now pumped through their bodies. Within a matter of moments, the three drained bodies began to stir again, and the desiccated corpses struggled to rise awkwardly. The men laughed and taunted their former comrades.

  “Looks like you lost a little weight their Billy, about fucking time!” called one.

  “That was the best fucking joke I seen in a long time slim!” shouted out another and earning a round of fresh laughter.

  The drained corpses turned, and each began an awkward stagger towards the bar’s front door.

  “Let’s be sure to give them a proper send-off now boys!” Cesar shouted.

  With that gathered gang began to sing, “Nana-na-na, nana-na-na, hay hay hay, good-bye!”

  The men parted allowing the walking corpses a clear path towards the door and as they staggered towards oblivion. The remaining members of The Horde continued to sing and wave them on. Cesar leaned over to be heard above the noise of it all.

  “Come on, I have a place where we can talk,” he said.

  With that, the gang leader turned and made his way through the still singing men. Jamie’s eyes lingered on the door as the last of the drained souls pushed through and out towards judgment. The thought surprised him then, was he truly starting to believe that was what awaited them all, there on the shores of a fiery lake? He shook his head again as if to shake the thought free from his head and then turned to follow after Cesar.

  The gang leader led Jamie past the bar and through the club’s maze of tables and chairs, most of which were gathered around the raised stage. Next to the back wall, several steps led up to a circular booth with high backed couches. The letters “VIP” were painted in huge gold letters on the wall behind the booth. A pair of bikers stood guard at the bottom of the stairs next to a velvet rope that blocked off the stairs. As Cesar approached they unhooked the rope and stepped aside. Anywhere else and the scene would have struck Jamie as laughable, but here he remained quiet.

  “Get me a bottle, you know the one,” Cesar told one of the men as he and Jamie strode past.

  The biker immediately headed towards the bar while the other secured the velvet rope. Cesar slid into the pink booth around a small round table and gestured for Jamie to join him. The gunfighter slid in, his gun belt squeaking loudly against what he could only guess was highly polished leather. Cesar grinned at the gunfighter’s obvious unease.

  “So, what do you think of my place?” Cesar asked.

  Jamie glanced around the club, mostly just to humor the gang leader.

  “Not bad, maybe a little flashing for my taste,” he replied.

  Cesar nodded towards the brass pole at the center of the stage.

  “Occasionally we even manage to bring home a girl to dance. That’s always fun, at least for a while. Eventually, though some stupid son of a bitch always loses his cool, gets handsy and ruins it for everyone else. I mean nobody wants to watch a shriveled piece of beef jerky swing around a pole, you know.”

  Cesar grinned, and Jamie just nodded agreement.

  “So, you’ve come a long way since the days we use to see you and yours come around The Rose,” Jamie pointed out.

  Cesar nodded again, “Si, we have done pretty well for ourselves. We just got a little too big to share a place like The Rose, even with as few of you Caballeros that are still around.”

  “You must be, how did you even find a place like this?” Jamie asked honestly impressed.

  Cesar smiled and shrugged, “I lived here back in the real world. Welcome to the City of Los Angeles.”

  “And it looked like this? All fucked up and on fire?” Jamie asked skeptically.

  “It did in the summer of 1992. Riots tore the city to fucking pieces, whole neighborhood burned to the fucking ground. It was a good fucking time!” Cesar said with a smile.

  “And the souls that I saw out there on the streets?” Jamie asked.

  “It’s like that movie. If you build it, they will come,” Cesar explained and then quickly realized Jamie would never get the reference.

  “You see this place, this time, it was pretty terrible for a lot of people. So, after they die a lot of them end up right back here,” Cesar explained simply.

  “And how do you keep them here?” Jamie asked.

  “The same way you keep Big Al and The Rose around. Every once and awhile we drag home a soul or two for the locals. There was nearly a dozen of them here last time I bothered to check,” Cesar said.

  Jamie nodded, “I saw at least two on the way in.”

  At that moment one of the bikers climbed the stairs balancing a tray in his two meaty hands. A clear glass bottle in the shape of a skull and two glasses balanced precariously on it. With a sigh of relief, the biker managed to set the tray down on the table, and Cesar dismissed him with a wave. The gang leader wasted no time in uncorking the bottle and pouring the clear liquor into each tumbler. He then offered Jamie one and raising the other offered a silent toast. The tequila burned as Jamie swallowed it, that part he had expected but just how smoothly it went down was what surprised him.

  “Damn, that’s some good shit,” the gunfighter commented.

  Cesar nodded in agreement, “Yeah everything tastes better if you don’t have to mix it with your bartender’s brains.”

  Cesar poured them each another glass, but instead of drinking it he just looked across the table at Jamie pointedly.

  “So, now that the niceties and shit are out of the way, what in the fuck are you doing here Jamie?” he asked.

  The young gunfighter returned the biker’s look and then just because he knew Cesar was growing impatient and also because it was such damn good tequila, he took another long drink. Jamie paused for a moment knowing that he must choose his words carefully. Cesar was even more dangerous than Cort in some ways, but the man was also ambitious, and that is exactly what Jamie would need to play too if this going to work.

  “Me and Cort, well…we’ve parted company,” Jamie said.

  Cesar nodded, “I wondered why you walked in here alone. Did you kill him then?”

  Jamie looked down at his glass and shook his head, “No, not yet.”

  “So, you’re here looking for work then? I don’t know Jamie, you’re a hell of a killer, but I got plenty of those,” Cesar said taking another drink.

  “You got me all wrong Cesar. I’m not here trying to get hired on. I’m here to do the hiring,” Jamie said smiling.

  Cesar looked up from his glass at Jamie, he obviously hadn’t been expecting that, “Que?”

  “Long story short, Cort and the rest of us got hired on to do a job for a very bad man. Now Cort wants to pull a double cross and skip out with the goods. The thing is, I think we would all be better off holding up our end. This fella is someone I for one would rather not have dogging my backtrail for the rest of eternity. In fact, I think it’s somebody I would rather be working for and not against,” Jamie explained.

  “Wait, just wait,” Cesar said holding up a hand.

  “Who is this motherfucker that has both you and Cort running around with your tails between your legs? Because last time I checked, I was the baddest motherfucker up in this bitch. You fuckers should be worried about me and my horde and not this other pendejo.”

  Jamie just shook his head trying to ignore the little voice at the back of his head that pointed out that Cort would never have given two shits about his reputation.

  “No arguments here brother, but when I use the term man to refer to this hombre, I’m using it loosely. He looks like a man, a big fucking man actually. He dresses like a man or more like a clown I guess. He even talks like a man. Hell, I would even wager he speaks better fucking English than either of us, bu
t that’s where the similarities end. Because this motherfucker is a Demon, a powerful one and let me tell you, he has some plans that are going to shake things up around here,” Jamie said reaching for the bottle of tequila again.

  Cesar’s hand reached out and held the bottle down firmly to the table, “What kind of plans?”

  “He’s turning on his own kind. He’s going to carve out a little kingdom for himself, right here in Hell. He’s looking for dangerous men to help him run things. Men like you and me,” Jamie said with a grin.

  Cesar leaned back in the deep chair and Jamie could tell the man was trying to wrap his head around the idea and the possible repercussions. The bottle free Jamie poured himself another drink.

  “Why should I believe any of this?” Cesar finally asked.

  “Well for starters, I don’t have the fucking imagination it would take to even come up with something like this,” Jamie pointed out.

  “And secondly, maybe more importantly, you don’t have to believe shit that I say. All you gotta do is mount up, and you, me and your boys can all go have a look see. If I’m full of shit, you kill me and drain me dry. If I’m not, then we kill Cort and the rest of them and take back the goods. Then I make the necessary introductions when the big man comes around to collect. I doubt it will mean much to him who delivers, as long as someone delivers. Humans are all the same to him I suspect, being a demon and all.”

  Jamie made to take another drink but stopped before the glass even reached his lips.

  “Something else you may want to consider Cesar. If there is any chance that this hombre is what he says and is serious about claiming his own chunk of hell. You think he is going to let you and yours keep a prime piece of real estate like this for yourself?”

  Cesar’s hand that had been resting on the table top clenched into a fist, and the Gunfighter knew he had struck a nerve.

  “Seems to me he’s the guy you would want to be working for, because if you’re not, sooner than later he’ll damned sure be coming after what’s yours.”