The Shadow Town (An Evan Ryder Weird Western)

by J. W. Bradley

“Ryder?”

  “Hush!” I began to slowly mount the staircase but my thoughts were elsewhere. Krotan’s Brook had been a normal frontier town just weeks ago, supposedly with visitors, deliveries and commerce with the rest of the country, even if it was a little out of the way. The town hadn’t been home to a generations old cult of Devil worshippers or something like that. They had actually reached out for help when the banker had unexpectedly killed his family.

  “Michael Roy fell.” I said out loud, to no one in particular. The facts had, like I said, somewhat come together for me in my head, in that strange fashion I’m familiar with but can’t explain.

  “What? Ryder what do you mean?”

  We reached the landing and I gazed down at the big man’s rifle in my hands. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

  “Don’t talk that way. We work together.”

  I looked up at Nina then, and took in the unusual silver streak in her hair, that one of her pointed elfin ears poked out from the auburn locks and the way her eyes shone with their too brilliant hazel pupils. I smiled and she did too with her slightly over-wide mouth. “Of course, I just want you to be safe.” And wasn’t safe a relative term? Nina was never going to be safe in a world that was suspect of all her differences.

  I nodded toward the darkened hall and the two of us crept silently along. Most of the doors lining the walls stood open and one by one, we were able to quickly ascertain that each room was empty. Fittingly, the last door on the right was closed.

  Nina dropped down to all fours and sniffed at the space beneath the door. “He went in there.”

  I put my ear to the door. Silence. “We are running out of time. I’m sure of it Nina.” I turned the knob and the door swung in silently. Like the others, the room was empty, but the window was open. We went to the window together and outside the night looked darker than ever.

  “He’s gone?”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “You know what’s going on, don’t you Ryder?”

  “Not really, only parts of it. We need to find Franklin Hoot and I think it would be best if we left Krotan’s Brook for the time being.”

  The sound of creaking wood came from behind us and we turned to find the woman in red standing in the doorway.

  Up close, she was a sorry sight. Vacant eyes, shot through with angry red veins, stared toward us absently, while her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

  “Evan Ryder.” Nina gripped my arm painfully tight when the woman spoke. Her voice sounded like something drowned at sea then fished back up to the surface after many years.

  On a loose neck the thing’s head swung toward my ward. “Nina Ryder,” it said.

  “How does she know?”

  “We have to assume from Michael Roy.”

  “Why would he tell about us?” Her voice was a frightened whisper full of dread.

  “I’m sure he didn’t in so many words,” as I spoke, I backed up, pulling Nina with me until we were against the open window. “The unfortunate Irishman’s a part of this now. We’ll operate on the assumption that whatever he knew, they must all know.”

  Nina slipped out the window and onto a dangerously slanted awning. “Ryder! There’s people out on the main street, heading for the door!”

  “I’m coming!” But before I could follow Nina out the window, the red haired woman made a gurgling cry and, with outstretched, grasping fingers, she came hurtling at me. There was a coat rack close at hand and I tossed it towards her feet. She fell in a heap as it collided with her ankles.

  By the time I joined Nina outside, the sound of many feet, stomping up the saloon’s stairs had unnerved us both. Blessedly, below us was a dark and seemingly deserted alleyway. I leapt for the ground, losing my new bowler hat in the process, and landed in a dusty tangle. Nina arrived at the ground beside me, lightly, in a crouch and with a sound no louder than a drumming of fingers.

  “Should we head for the woods?”

  I dusted off hurriedly and looked toward the main street. Illuminated by moonlight, the well and its construction scaffolds stood out starkly.

  “I smell the ocean.”

  My eyebrow raised on its own accord. “Do you now?”

  Just then, someone ran past the mouth of the alley and I heard the sound of their feet skidding to a stop in the dust.

  “Come Nina. Let us retreat to a safe place.”

  We had no sooner backed into the deeper shadows of the alley when a small knot of people came around the corner from the front of the saloon, their heads craning back and forth searching, and in so doing, made me think of tall, macabre birds of prey. We were standing frozen in the darkness when providence deemed it time to grant us a boon.

  A the thunderous crack of a high powered revolver sounded in the night, quickly followed by another and a crazy scene unfolded before us.

  Out on the street, a shadow with long hair trailing behind it that could only be that of Franklin Hoot crossed our field of vision, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, his large revolver blasting at regular intervals, the flame from the gun’s muzzle alighting him in an orange glow. A horde of the afflicted town’s folk shambled by, following the W.E.r.d. Inspector’s progress with relentless determination. But the strangest thing of all was that he was shouting a name repeatedly into the night: “Fargo.”

  On second thought, it wasn’t strange at all. “Brilliant”, I said aloud.

  “Who is Fargo?” Nina asked quietly as the people at the end of the alley finally turned to follow the other, more obvious spectacle.

  “Why he’s referring to William G. Fargo of course, a New Yorker with a major hand in industries throughout the West, stage coaches, express services and most importantly banking.” I motioned for Nina to follow me deeper into the alley.

  “Banking?”

  “Precisely. As Michael Roy and I rode into town I observed that the bank was the newest building in Krotan’s Brook, built with neither wood nor the slate-like substance of the older buildings, but out of brick, thus improving its ability to be fortified.”

  We had reached a deserted cross street and the two of us crept along as silently as possible in the darkness, sticking tight to the back of the saloon. I knew the bank to be only two buildings away. But the night was silent now, Hoot having most likely come to the end of his brilliant distraction, and I expected the return of Krotan’s Brook’s strange populace, at any time.

  Nina tugged at the sleeve of my suit jacket. “Ryder, what’s going on? You know something.”

  “Let’s wait until we get inside the bank and I plan to share everything.”

  This second street was narrower than the first and the buildings were like dark monoliths threatening to curve in over our heads. In fact, the more I let my senses flow out, the more the town seemed off somehow, shadows laying at wrong angles and the ground tilting just a bit too much at times. Even the air felt oppressive, weighing down our limbs with otherworldly dread.

  We made it to the back of the bank with its large brick construction and I reached up to try the door. Locked.

  “Mr. Carlyle must be inside. Why else would Franklin send us here?” Nina asked.

  “Yes, that’s what I suspect. However, how do we signal him that we’re outside?”

  I quickly dismissed the idea of rapping lightly on the door and the brick walls looked unassailable, except perhaps for Nina. Suddenly she was tugging at my sleeve again.

  “They’re watching us!”

  I looked up and they were there, people clustered in a large mass at the end of the street. “Let’s go back around the bank the other way, maybe we can get in the front.”

  When we turned, more shapes were coming from the other direction, but these were crouched over and creeping toward us in a stealthy way, man, woman and child alike. All slack jawed and dead eyed, the townsfolk moved as one, like a formation of birds migrating south during the first throws of winter.

  “Ok, back the other way.” I reached behind me and pushe
d Nina lightly without looking, Michael Roy’s rifle nearly slipped from my sweaty grasp. Fear for the girl was a palpable thing threatening to crush my heart with relentless force. “We’ll circle the building quickly and if the front’s locked we head for the woods. Remember what I said about running, if you have to you run all night and then some. I’ll meet you at our camping spot.”

  Nina suddenly let out a yelp because the first group was now running at us, arms outstretched, like something out of a nightmare, their faces twisted with mysterious hunger.

  “Run!” Nina needed no further encouragement and took off in a flash. I was on her heels and we made it around to the front porch of the bank only to skid to a halt as even more of the townsfolk-turned-mindless creatures ran toward us from across the street.

  “Around again!” I planned to assist Nina up the building’s exterior and at least temporarily to safety. I would make a stand with the rifle and my Iroquois. Maybe I could discourage further attack. But already my mind was calculating Nina’s chances of escaping the town without me.

  As we made yet another turn and bounded back down the alley, I was struck by something on my head. It snaked down around my body and in the darkness I imagined a serpent threatening to embrace me. Just before panic set in, I realized it was an ordinary rope.

  I looked up and saw a frazzle haired silhouette waving at me frantically. “Nina!” She had nearly made it to the end of the alley before turning back in the face of a charging, maddened crowd. Her small form crashed against me and I tossed her a fair way up, where she caught the rope in the air and began climbing effortlessly. I followed her up half way then looked down at the rapidly filling alley. One of the townspeople was clumsily climbing after me. An older man, dressed in shabby overalls, was snarling at me, his eyes red and watery like the woman in the saloon. The rifle was dangling on a strap from my back so I drew the Iroquois and took aim.

  After a quick thought, I reversed the gun and swung it like a hammer, cracking the man on the temple. It barely fazed him. Wrapping my other arm around the rope, I lifted the gun again, swinging it with all my might and this time his head snapped around like it was on a swivel. His hands went slack on the rope and I reached down quickly and grabbed the unconscious man’s overall strap before he could fall. The dead weight nearly pulled us both down but my legs were wrapped securely around the rope and I attempted to shimmy my way up holding my hard won test subject.

  Sweat was freely pouring down my face and I was reconsidering my decision when a loud booming sound came from above me and in almost the same instance my burden’s bald pate exploded in a pulpy crimson mass. Startled, I looked up to see Franklin Hoot standing on the bank roof’s edge, complete with his big .46 caliber Remington-Kittredge revolver held down beside him, smoke still visible billowing from the end of its long barrel. Nina and another man, who I was compelled to acknowledge as a shirtless John Carlyle stared down at me.

  “They are beyond saving I think.” Hoot said.

  I reached the roof, Carlyle and Nina helped me to my feet while the Inspector pulled up the rope. Below, pale faces stared up at us hungrily. From where we stood I could see Anna still hitched beside Roy’s horse and the nag at the front of the saloon, all three appeared unmolested.

  “What did you mean, about them being beyond saving?”

  Hoot drug a stuffed canvas sack to the edge of the roof and left it there. “This is for later.” He didn’t expound on the sack’s contents and I didn’t ask. He next motioned to a trap door on the bank’s roof. Oddly someone had placed a heavy sliding bolt on the outside. “Let us go below, the building is relatively secure.” Hoot looked at Nina and I questioningly. “And where is Michael Roy?”

  “I’m afraid he won’t be joining us, he seems to have…fallen in with the wrong crowd.”

  10

  Nina followed the men down a wooden ladder into a musty smelling attic. She was thankful for, if not particularly surprised by Ryder’s quick acceptance of John Carlyle. He treated the man with the warmth and respect he afforded almost everyone.

  “I must thank you for your aid Mr. Carlyle, Nina and I were in truly dire peril out there.” He said.

  “Happy to help.” Carlyle bowed his head gracefully.

  From the attic they descended to a small office. Hoot peeked out of the office door then motioned them on. They were on a balcony overlooking a large marble floored room. Furniture was strewn about and the once grand bank lobby looked to Nina like a quake had hit it.

  As they made their way down the stairs, Ryder frowned at the windows where shapes cast in moonlight could be seen milling outside. “Those don’t look terribly secure.”

  Hoot nodded in agreement. “They’re not, but we are heading for the vault, it seems Inspector Henry had held out there for some time.”

  “Ah, an excellent location.” Ryder mused as Hoot led them to a large steel door with something like a ship’s wheel at its center. “Of course once we are inside if the townsfolk get into the bank, well, that’s another matter.”

  “We will hurry, I need you to see something though. Mr. Carlyle, please keep watch out here.” The black clad investigator and his tall top hat disappeared into the vault. Nina followed close behind Ryder into the dark space.

  Hoot lit a lantern he had retrieved from the floor of the vault, a crude, hastily constructed lab was revealed in the wavering light. A long table was pushed against the far wall and upon it was a corpse, symmetrically flayed open to reveal its skeleton and organs. It had been a man of middling age and his sandy haired head had been bisected perfectly to reveal a brain of rather unusual dimensions. Nina looked away from the disturbing sight to see that several books on anatomy and rare diseases were scattered about.

  Ryder’s eyes were haunted as he surveyed the macabre scene. He walked over and picked up a leather bound journal from the table. His fingers flipped through the pages quickly and he nodded as he went. He looked up at her and the others. “Now that we have a moment, I need to share something with the two of you. It was Nina actually who gave me the final pieces of the puzzle…”

  11

  “After skimming through his notes, I see that Lucas Henry had been on the right path, the populace of Krotan’s Brook was being…altered by a plague of some kind. Only he fell short of discovering the source of the contagion.” I patted Nina on the top of the head, a show of affection I knew she oddly appreciated. “Nina had mentioned Mr. Carlyle calling the townsfolk ‘water drinkers’. A term I originally assumed was one he used to identify teetotalers or those who refused to imbibe. But as Nina and I were going to look for Michael Roy in the saloon, I remembered the Irishman had taken an uncharacteristic and clumsy fall just after having downed a simple glass of water at the bar.”

  Hoot’s eyes flicked down to Inspector Henry’s journal. “The well.”

  “Precisely! Improvements on a well would more likely than not include a deepening of its recesses. Perhaps the workers tapped into a tainted water source of some sort. I think it highly likely in fact. And once again I must credit Nina with this discovery for she mentioned that her extraordinary nose had picked up the scent of the sea from which we are hundreds of miles away. I looked up to see the well at the moment she said this and noted we were indeed downwind of it.”

  “Still… seawater?” The W.E.r.d. inspector raised an eyebrow skeptically.

  “Not necessarily actual seawater, possibly a water with some of the qualities of the sea, containing multitudes of life for example. There are physicians who study morbid anatomy, or more recently called pathological anatomy. They are busy dispelling the notions of evil spirits or witchcraft being the cause of many of the physical symptoms of illness, instead discovering that bacteria, viruses and even fungi are many times the culprit.” I surreptitiously watched for Nina’s reaction while I carried on, for no part of my reasoning came close to explaining the particulars of her strange origin.

  “What about the shared knowledge? The uncanny speechless co
mmunication? Several times as they pursued me across the rooftops, I heard my name whispered by those ghastly folk.” Hoot asked, taking the book of notes from me and searching through it.

  “It’s something akin to insects, such as worker bees or ants? I’m still working through that particular characteristic. When we first arrived, there were three men in the bar, all appeared relatively normal, but there was a woman upstairs who was further along in her transformation you might say.”

  Hoot was bent over, studying the corpse’s open cranium. “It works fast, impossibly fast. There’s a fair amount of physical change here.” His finger was pointed at the specimen’s brain, it looked twisted and was curling around on itself, giving the impression most like a dying mollusk of some kind.

  “Yes, the rather abrupt physical alterations are what disturb me most. Lucas Henry wrote in his notes that the process appeared irreversible. He was correct, I fear there is most likely no cure. One would not know where to begin to remedy this and furthermore, what is the end result to be? How will an infected individual appear when the transformation is complete? What diabolical purpose will they strive toward?”

  Hoot straightened up and turned to us, his already serious demeanor turning even grimmer still. “Then we must concentrate our efforts on containment and, if need be, elimination.”

  I thought of the well again and made a silent decision. “The curing of this…infection or what have you is important but I rather Nina be out of harm’s way for now.”

  “Our two horses are tied up just off the road outside of town.” Hoot offered.

  “No Ryder!” Nina’s voice was quiet but imbued with a sense of desperation. “I can take care of myself. Those things can’t catch me.”

  The sudden sound of smashing glass ended our argument before it could begin.

  “They’re in! They’re in!” John Carlyle screamed from the lobby.

  The three of us ran out of the vault and into a terrifying scene. From all the windows, the townsfolk were crawling and slithering in, heedless of the broken glass that sliced through their flesh. Two young men dropped to the floor and were instantly up, running at us, wide eyed and wild looking. Before I could even raise the rifle, Hoot had basted a big hole in each one’s chest with his Remington and they toppled together in a twisted heap at our feet.