Blood Riders

by Michael P. Spradlin

  Jonas checked his pocket watch.

  The information he had on the Clady mine was sketchy. Mostly some railroad documents and a one-page report Pinkerton had been able to scrounge up and telegraph to him.

  It wouldn’t be like Absolution. The mine here had been closed for years. There were a few decrepit buildings left and then the mine shaft. The majority of the Archaics would probably be in the mine, until the sun went down. If he were Malachi, he would come at them again, once it was dark. But it would be a different approach. He would try something to draw them away from the train, maybe setting it on fire. Two problems with that approach: first, everything outside of the train was steel or iron and wouldn’t burn, and second, he wouldn’t know Hollister and his band would be in Clady already waiting for them.

  Shaniah stepped out of the train and looked over Monkey Pete’s newest contraption. Hollister could tell she was still angry with him, ignoring him completely at first, and instead turning her attention to the cart. After studying his creation for a minute she shook her head in amazement, but smiled. “It pains me to say it, but I think what you have done here, Mr. Pete, is found a way to kill many Archaics.”

  “Well, ma’am, no offense, but I hope so,” Monkey Pete said. “Major, I had these in the armory, and I thought they might come in handy.” He pointed to two wooden cases sitting on the cart. Stenciled on the side of each case was the word DYNAMITE.

  Hollister smiled. “I think we might find a use for it.”

  Hollister looked at his watch again. It was now after 10 A.M. According to the map it was just over twelve miles to Clady. It was also mostly uphill. Hollister wanted to be in position well before late afternoon, when the sun went down behind the mountains, in case some Archaics might move about in the hours before the actual sunset.

  “All right,” Hollister said. “Pete, you stay with the train. We’re going to off-load the horses and pull those trees off the track before we leave, in case you need to get out of here. After that, we’re leaving for Clady. You stay in the gunner’s bubble with that Gatling. If we don’t come back or if you see an Archaic, don’t fight ’em off. You get the hell out of here. Send a wire to Pinkerton as soon as you can, tell him we failed and he’s going to have to try something else to kill these things. Tell him he’ll need the biggest goddamn stick of dynamite that’s ever been made. Or something.”

  He looked at each of them. All of them wore solemn expressions on their faces. They were ready.

  “All right,” Hollister said. “Let’s get going.”

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  Malachi sat on a chair in one of the large chambers of the mine. Around him dozens of Archaic initiates slept, hidden from the burning rays of the sun outside. Soon they would be able to go without sleep for weeks as their transformation from human to Archaic was completed. Their mood had changed completely since he had slaughtered the cowards earlier this morning. They had always had a healthy respect for his temper, but now they feared him. Since Shaniah had arrived in Absolution he had found it necessary to discipline his followers for their failures for the first time. If the world was to belong to his people, they would not be the last.

  There had been no choice. Archaics could not be afraid. They could never be allowed to retreat, they must attack without hesitation and weakness would not be tolerated.

  The mine was clear of bats and rodents, driven out by their preternatural fear of the Archaics, so the only sound was the occasional murmur from the disturbed sleep of his followers. He felt strong. He knew he was more powerful than he had been in centuries, since the Archaics had retreated to the high mountains of the homeland.

  He would need his strength now more than ever.

  Shaniah was coming. He could feel her presence growing closer. It had been so long since he had seen her. Years. And soon one of them would die.

  It would end.

  Monkey Pete’s cart worked remarkably well and given the terrain and the elevation they were able to make excellent time toward the mine. Demeter had little trouble pulling the cart up the steep incline, and by noon they were more than halfway there.

  There was very little talking as they rode. They were alert and a little nervous. Shaniah was cloaked, reminding them that other Archaics could be about and cloaked as she was, and that ambush was always possible. But Hollister didn’t think Malachi would risk a daylight attack after losing so many in the night attack on the train. Chee and Hollister rode with Fire Shooters on their backs. The third was bolted to the cart. Each of them carried a Henry across his saddle.

  It was four o’clock when they reached the mine. They stayed back in the trees surrounding the clearing where the bulk of the mining camp had once stood. Hollister dismounted and scanned the area with his spyglass but there was no movement or sign of anyone nearby. There were two buildings, both of them nearly falling down, one with the roof already partially caved in, about sixty yards from the mine opening. The other building was to the right of the first, perhaps ten yards closer to the entrance and nothing more than a small shed. He would put Chee with the Gatling and his Fire Shooter there. He would take up a position in the first building with the Fire Shooter, the Ass-Kicker, his Henry, and some of the dynamite, just in case things got really interesting.

  “Shaniah, I want Chee in the small building with the Gatling. I don’t suppose you’d reconsider using a Fire Shooter, would you?” Hollister asked.

  “No,” she answered and he decided not to press the issue.

  “All right then, if you can cover our flank. And . . .”

  “I will be going in to kill Malachi,” she said.

  “But if we need—” Hollister started to say.

  “Malachi has eluded me for years. He may well bring about the end of my people still. I will do what I can to protect and support you in your efforts to destroy his followers. And I will kill all of them who get in my way. But I am here to kill Malachi, even if it means my own death.”

  “I . . . you . . . Shaniah . . . listen to me . . . please . . .” Hollister pleaded.

  “The matter is closed,” she said.

  Hollister stood there, his mouth open, trying to think of something to say to change her mind, but he had nothing. He could tell she would not be swayed.

  “All right then,” he said. “Let’s get in position.”

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  The horses were secluded in the woods to the south of the camp, the direction they would need to flee in the train if everything turned to shit. They had less than two hours before the sun fell behind the mountains to the west. It wouldn’t be sundown completely, but it wouldn’t be direct sunlight either, and there was a better than good chance Archaics would exit the mine when the sun set. Hollister wanted to be ready.

  Carefully he and Chee pulled the cart toward the building. They went as quietly as possible, and Monkey Pete had thought of everything, even greasing the wheels so they wouldn’t squeak as they rolled over the rough terrain. Hollister studied the entrance to the mine shaft with the spyglass again for several minutes. He wasn’t sure how far down into the mine the Archaics might go during the day and he hoped like hell they didn’t stay close to the opening so any sentries might spot them. But he couldn’t tell. The entrance was too dark and shrouded in shadow. He toyed with the idea of just dynamiting the entrance and trapping them all inside.

  But such a plan had flaws. It wasn’t likely to kill the Archaics and they could dig their way out. And if some were standing guard near the entrance Hollister and Chee would certainly be spotted, then all bets would be off.

  “Shaniah,” he said. “Can you see anyone inside there? Is there any way for you to tell if there is someone near the entrance who might see us?”

  She peered through the telescope for several seconds. Her eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell were superior to his. As near as she could tell, there was no one close to the entrance.

  “I don’t see or hear anyone,” she said.

  “Al
l right, we’ve got to move it anyway,” Hollister said. “Let’s go, Chee.”

  With as much stealth as they could muster, they rolled the cart toward the small building. There was no door left in the frame, so they pushed the cart right inside. Part of the wall facing the mine entrance had collapsed, an unbelievably lucky advantage as it gave the Gatling a wide and open field of fire yet a level of concealment. It would do the same for the Fire Shooters. Hollister took one of the cases of dynamite and a pouch full of ammo for the Henry and hefted them over his shoulder.

  “This is it, Sergeant,” he said. “Make every shot count.”

  “Yes, sir,” Chee said. Hollister scratched Dog on the ears. This time the giant beast didn’t growl or pull away.

  “Well, look at that,” Hollister said. “I’m probably going to die in ten minutes and now he decides he likes me.”

  “He’s very particular,” Chee said. “I think you’ve grown on him.”

  Again, Hollister couldn’t tell if Chee was joking or not. And it was getting damned annoying.

  “Sergeant, if we survive this, I swear to God, I’m going to figure you out. And your damn Dog too,” Hollister said.

  “I doubt it, sir,” Chee said.

  And then he smiled.

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  Shaniah was waiting for him in the other building. He set the dynamite near the window and pried off the lid. He checked the load on his Henry and leaned it against the wall next to the window. The Ass-Kicker was charged, the gauges on the Fire Shooter showed full. He was ready.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Hollister drew his Colt and rolled the cylinder along the sleeve of his duster. Each chamber held a round.

  “For what?”

  “What I said earlier.”

  He holstered the Colt. Jonas was jumpy as a cat, wishing the goddamn Archaics would pour out of the mine right now so he could start gunning them down.

  She came to him and took his hands. “For hundreds of years we have avoided humans because we considered them enemies, and most of my people believed one day that our civilizations would meet and clash. With so few Archaics and so many humans, my people believed we would die. All of us. The Old Ones chose me to be the leader of my people, to be the one to see us through this. They believe I possess the skills to convince humans that we only wish to be left in peace—that we would continue to live as we have for centuries, without killing or feeding on humans. As long as we can stay in our homeland, left alone, we would remain peaceful. The killing we were responsible for centuries ago would be over. It is over.”

  She stopped, unsure of herself. As if she had lost her train of thought. Finally she figured out what she wished to say.

  “Malachi may be the death of my people. He is vain, and he is cunning, but most of all he is evil. And if I do not kill him first, I promise you this. He will not murder hundreds but thousands of humans before he is stopped. If he survives and continues on this path, there will be no hope for peace between our peoples.” She let go of his hands and paced back and forth in the shed a few times.

  “Have you heard of dinosaurs, Jonas?” she asked.

  “Yes, I read about them at the Point. Giant reptiles, lived millions of years ago, they figure.”

  “Exactly, they lived for millions of years and then they all died. Extinction, they call it. Many species of creatures gone, as if they had never existed. This is what will happen to us. It is what will happen to me, if I do not stop him,” she said.

  “I understand,” Hollister said.

  “Do you? I do not mean to be curt, but I do not think you do. There is greatness in you, Jonas Hollister. I sensed it when I first saw you face Malachi on the plains. Malachi saw it too. He drew back from you. Physically, he is your superior in almost every way, but you are brave and you are fearless, and you frightened him, if only for an instant. But what is most important about you, what sets you apart is, you have a sense of compassion that other men lack. Your strength is not just your courage or your abillity to shoot a gun, or the ‘tactics’ you study at this place you’ve called the ‘Point.’ You know what is right and what is not, when to fight and when to stand down. You make instant judgments about men. And you are never wrong. Take Chee as an example. You told me you hardly knew him in prison, but then you saw him fight these men and you judged him. You were right about him. Now he follows you and will continue to follow you without question, forever. You have shown him these same qualities in you that I just spoke of and he will now ride with you through the gates of hell. He trusts you with his life.

  “In Absolution you were bold and daring. So much so, that you could have gotten everyone killed, but he followed your orders without hesitation because he trusts you. And from the moment you took him from the prison he will never not trust you.”

  Hollister didn’t know what to say. He’d heard his commanders at the Point and generals he’d served under in the war say he was a natural born leader, but he didn’t believe there was any such thing. Apparently, Shaniah thought otherwise.

  He had to make her understand something. They were running out of time. “The reason I said what I said, about you covering our flank . . . it’s only because . . . I . . . I don’t want you to die, Shaniah. You’ve taken something from me, and I don’t know what it is . . . but there is a piece of me that belongs to you now and . . . I don’t want . . .” He couldn’t get the words out. “I’m no good with words. I know it sounds impossible, foolish even, but it’s how I feel and it makes no sense . . . but . . . isn’t that what love is?”

  “I love you too, Jonas,” she said. “And you are much better with words than you think.”

  She kissed him then. It was a kiss that comes only a few times in your life. When you know you have found the one. Time stops. The world becomes clean and bright. It was that type of kiss. It bonded them forever from that moment. If Jonas believed in God he would have said, “God help me, but I love her so.” But he didn’t believe in God anymore: he just knew that whatever had happened between them over these past few days—he knew he loved her. How could he love her? How could they be together? She wasn’t even a human, not in any way that made sense. It would be like a pirate loving a mermaid. And he didn’t believe in mermaids but he damn sure believed in her.

  “I . . . no one has ever said that to me before,” he said. “And what I told you yesterday, in the valley. I’m with you all the way, I will kill Malachi with my bare hands if it means saving you, because I . . .

  But before he could finish the first of the Archaics emerged from the mine.

  It was on.

  Chapter Seventy

  One came out first. Then three more, then they straggled out in groups. Surprisingly to Jonas, they looked almost like humans waking from a deep sleep. Rubbing their eyes and stretching, as more and more of them emerged.

  “They look like they’ve been sleeping. You said that’s good, right?” he asked.

  “Yes. Malachi has chosen this place because it is very similar to our homeland. Mountainous. Largely deserted. But he has gone through the surrounding territory, found enough humans, and started raising his army.

  “As a result there are few if any humans left nearby to feed on. And what humans they have found have been given to Malachi. Feeding on Huma Sangra makes an Archaic much stronger.”

  The Archaics continued to pour out of the mine, more than a hundred so far.

  “He’s been feeding,” Hollister said. “But his army hasn’t. At least not as much. So that makes them weaker.”

  “Yes, but do not be fooled or careless. Even without Huma Sangra, they are much stronger, faster, more vicious than humans. They likely have been feeding on animals from the woods and plains nearby. Just as I have. They will still be formidable. And Malachi . . .”

  “What? What about him?” Hollister said.

  “He will be the strongest of all of them. You must leave him to me,” she said.

  “But you haven’t had hum
an blood either, have you?”

  “No, it is forbidden by the Old Ones, and I have kept my vow. But they have also prepared me. Do not worry, Jonas. Malachi is strong. But so am I.” She smiled.

  He tried not to worry, but it didn’t work. All he could see was Malachi as he had seen him on the plains so many years ago, the bullets bouncing off him like pebbles. Being thrown on the ground like a rag doll. Sitting on Hollister’s chest, Malachi’s fists pounding on his face like anvils dropped on his head. Only he saw Shaniah being beaten this time and the thought terrified him.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked. It was all he could think of to say.

  “I need you to open fire when Malachi appears. The wind is with us. They will not smell us yet. Pray the wind does not shift. Concentrate on the Archaics. You are unlikely to hit him anyway. He will be too quick for most of your weapons. I will focus on him,” she said.

  “What if you don’t find him?” Hollister said.

  “Then he will find me,” Shaniah said. “You see, Jonas, he has been waiting for this moment ever since he escaped our homeland. He will not let it pass.”

  “I don’t like this,” Hollister said.

  “I know,” Shaniah replied. “But you made a promise to me. Do you intend to keep it?”

  He looked at her, memorizing her face because he knew he might not see her alive again.

  “All the way,” he said.

  More and more Archaics flooded out of the mine. Through the collapsed wall of the building, he could see Chee in the shed, hands on the Gatling gun, ready to wreak havoc. He couldn’t see Dog, but he imagined him next to Chee, coiled and ready to attack anything that moved when given the command.

  At the Point he’d been trained to determine enemy strength by counting a group of ten, getting a read on the size of those ten then roughly counting the number of groups that size in the force arrayed against you. Using the technique, Hollister guessed there were about three hundred Archaics. He’d expected more, so he was somewhat relieved; but killing them wasn’t easy, so he’d count his blessings. He readied the Fire Shooter.