Coyote: The Outlander (with FREE second screen experience)

by Noordeloos, Chantal

  “Destiny has given you a second chance. The Quavar is there. It’s not an accident that he came to your plane. He controls his path.” Her eyes glimmered in the darkness of the sweat lodge. “He’s looking for something in your world. Qu’arth Slevanko has found a way to pass through the rips. He could take you back.”

  Tokala waved her words away with his hand. “He killed you, Mother. He killed everyone, and he tried to kill me. Why would he help me?”

  “Because you can offer him something that he wants. Back in our world . . . in my secret place . . . is the Quishu he was looking for. That’s why he murdered us. If you offer him that, he will take you with him.” She looked at him with hope, her skin shifting to a darker shade of purple. For a moment, Tokala considered her words. He knew his mother’s secret place well. If the Quavar hadn’t chased him through the rip, he would have visited it and retrieved his mother’s treasures. But destiny had dealt him a different hand.

  “I’ve lived most of my life here, Mother,” he said. “I’m happy here.”

  She tried to touch him. Tokala felt a cold breeze as her digits ran through his skin. As always, he appreciated her effort even though it only increased his loneliness.

  “Don’t be foolish. This world only guarantees one mortal life. With us you can live on forever. Be with your family.”

  “My tribe is my family too.” His hearts beat in an uneven rhythm, like two tribal drums. “They have taken me in, made me who I am today. My destiny lies with them.”

  “Your destiny is to be with us. You belong with your ancestors.” Now frustration mixed with his mother’s sadness.

  “No, Mother. I will not make the enemy of our people my ally just to get home. I will not abandon my destiny because it would be easier. There is a life for me here, and I have responsibilities to those around me. My fate is intertwined with others here, and if I disentangle myself, it could mean disaster for those I care about, possibly this whole world.” He picked up the seven-pointed gem between his fingers and placed it on the palm of his hand, then he folded his fingers around it. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, to plead with him, and Tokala knew that if he allowed her to say the words, he would falter.

  “Nuava’ah,” he whispered, severing the last connection, and with a scream on her lips, his mother disappeared. He knew he could never call on her again, that this was the last time he would ever see her. A faint light pulsated in the core of the gem and faded to a dull darkness. It would serve another purpose now, one that would keep him disconnected from his bloodline. He felt truly alone, but he knew that he had made the right choice.

  CONTACTS

  The intersection formed a perfect cross, the roads extending out in all four directions, disappearing from sight.

  “If this particle beam pistol is difficult to come by, we might as well either go to Savage Sam’s, Sunshine Mary, or the Romani camp.” The sun’s bright light made Coyote squint as she peered at the different paths. “They’ll be our best bet. The little guys won’t have one; they don’t offer rare Outlander weapons.”

  “I agree.” Caesar rubbed his mare’s neck. “Where would you like to go first?”

  “Let’s try Mary first. Sam’s definitely last. I can’t stand that man.” She couldn’t hide the disgust she felt. “He’s a despicable individual.”

  Caesar shrugged and turned his horse to the south, toward Boone County.

  They arrived in Sugar Creek in the late afternoon, their stomachs growling. They hadn’t taken any rest during their journey due to Coyote’s eagerness to get to her destination. Sugar Creek was a pleasant enough town; the residents were friendly but kept to themselves. The townspeople didn’t pay them much attention as they rode to the Hoop residence, the home of the woman everyone called Sunshine Mary.

  Sunshine sat in a rocking chair on her porch when they pulled up, her husband Philip right next to her, but he had dozed off. She was a homely woman with a short, squat figure. Though only forty-seven, she looked much older. Her long, grey hair appeared a bit greasy, but not completely unkempt, and she had it curled in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. The woman’s face was a patchwork of wrinkles, and the corners of her mouth hung low, as if permanently chagrinned, earning her the nickname Sunshine Mary.

  “Coyote, is that you, my girl?” The harsh voice, a bit like a bark, cut through the air, but Coyote knew the woman wasn’t unfriendly. Sunshine pushed her plump body out of the wooden chair, which rocked violently as she stepped away, giving forth a melodic rhythm of creaks.

  “Sunshine Mary, I hope I find you in good health?” Coyote slid off her saddle, her hand running across Shenanigan’s warm body before giving her horse a reassuring pat. The older woman let out a long sigh and shook her head.

  “My knees have been acting up,” she said, her scowl deepening, “which doesn’t help my back problems. I’m suffering, child. My age does not treat me well.”

  Coyote nodded with sympathy. A pleasant scent tickled her nostrils, and she looked toward the picturesque wooden house and inhaled deeply.

  “Something smells nice . . . ” A mischievous grin played on her lips, and she waited for Sunshine’s response. The woman’s face remained a scowl, and she placed her hands on her hips.

  “I notice that all your little visits are around dinner time, my girl.” She opened her mouth and laughed, the corners of her lips never curling up.

  “You’re the best cook I know, Sunshine.” Coyote winked and pulled Caesar forward. “Besides, look at my partner. He’s skin over bones . . . this needs to be fixed.”

  Mary laughed again, her voice loud and so deep it could be mistaken for that of a man.

  “He does look a fright.” She beckoned Caesar with a pudgy hand. “Come here, my boy. Let us put some meat on those bones. I’ve got a good chicken stew with dumplings on the fire and an apple pie in the oven. Some nice biscuits too. I’ll give you some wholesome home cooking.”

  Caesar walked forward, and Sunshine pulled him close, pinching the flesh on his waist.

  “Let’s go fatten you up.” Sunshine’s smile was little more than a grimace, but there was a good heart behind that stern face. Caesar shot her a grateful look and followed her into the house.

  The inside was spotless; Sunshine Mary, a very house-proud woman, made Philip help her around the home. Knitted doilies were scattered around, and the bright red and white floral curtains matched the table cloth.

  “Sit, sit,” Sunshine commanded, walking to the stove where she commenced stirring a large, black pot with a wooden spoon. Coyote sat down on top of the embroidered cushion of one of the wooden chairs, which smelled of green soap. Caesar slid on to the chair next to hers, looking small and a bit uncomfortable. Sunshine grabbed a few plates and ladled generous helpings of chicken stew onto them. The plates made a loud noise when she set them triumphantly in front of her guests.

  “Eat up.”

  Sunshine didn’t have to tell Coyote twice, and she tucked in as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Caesar stared at the meal for a moment before he began to eat.

  “So tell me, Coyote.” Sunshine tore off two pieces of homemade bread and handed them to her and Caesar. “What are you doing in our neck of the woods? I assume it’s no social visit to try my chicken stew?”

  “I need a weapon, Sunshine,” Coyote answered through her mouthful of food.

  “That’s what I figured.”

  Coyote shook her head and wiped the grease from her lips. “Not just any weapon. I need a particle beam gun.” Her eyes held Sunshine’s for a few seconds, and the older woman smacked her lips.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help you, girl.” Sunshine shook her head. “I’ve never even heard of one of those.”

  Coyote pursed her mouth, unable to hide her disappointment. “I thought you knew everything, Sunshine.”

  “Apparently, I don’t.” The old woman scratched her chin and leaned back on her chair. “I’d be interested to see it
, if you do manage to get one. I don’t know if you plan on buying it, but when you’re done, come give me a call. I’ll gladly take it off your hands. Maybe trade you?” A greedy glint sparkled in Sunshine’s eye, but her face was still a mask of discontent.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Is that all you came for?” Sunshine raised her eyebrows, placing her hands on her stomach.

  “That and the stew . . . ” Coyote squinted at her, trying to figure out what the woman was getting at.

  “So you’ve not come to ask me about the rip?” The old woman almost smiled then, and the corner of her mouth twitched.

  “The rip?” The subject surprised her, and apparently she wasn’t the only one, because Caesar stopped eating, his spoon raised halfway to his lips.

  “Oh, yes . . . ,” Sunshine said with a mysterious air, “I thought you wanted to know about the rip that keeps opening in the same place.”

  “I’ve never heard of a rip opening in the same place.” Coyote leaned forward, the stew forgotten, all her attention focused on what her old friend had to say.

  “Oh, the rips are mysterious things, my dear.” Sunshine grabbed a pipe from an ornate green box and placed it between her lips. “There are different types of rips. Some stay open forever, creating a doorway between this world and the one that lies beyond. Some lead to more than just one world too, those we call portal rips.” She stuffed the pipe and lit it, a strong scent of sweet tobacco escaping from the smoke.

  “I think Pinkerton mentioned a portal rip.” Coyote scratched her nose and tried to remember the last conversation she had. “I’ve never spent too much time trying to find out about them. The Pinkertons are pretty tight lipped when it comes to the rips. I’ve spent too much time focusing on what sort of weapons I need to kill Outlanders.”

  “Your father only taught you about the hunting, girl.” Sunshine winked at her. “It’s about time you open your eyes a bit more. Pinkertons ain’t gonna help you. They like to keep their secrets, even from those they work with. Make you figure it out for yourself, that’s what they do. Most folks don’t know jack. Though in all fairness, Phillip and I know a little about the rips—probably more than anyone else I’ve met—but still not enough to give you clear answers.”

  “So this reoccurring rip is common then?” Coyote tried to make eye contact with Caesar, but her partner had his brown eyes fixed on Sunshine, as if he were trying to see into the older woman’s soul.

  “No, not as far as I know. The permanent rips are pretty uncommon, and I suspect they are only permanent because someone tampered with them.” She raised a graying eyebrow and peered at Coyote with her pale eyes.

  “If that’s true, then this rip you’re talking about is probably being controlled as well?” Coyote stated it as a question, and Sunshine nodded in response.

  “I would think so, my girl,” Sunshine’s lips smacked on the tip of her pipe, and little puffs of smoke escaped from the corner of her mouth. “I would think so.”

  “This is the first time I’ve heard of it. Not even Pinkerton made mention of this.” Coyote placed her spoon in the little bit of stew that remained on her plate, her appetite lost now, and fished a fat cigar from her pocket. “I never even considered that it was possible for anyone to open the rips.” She lit the cigar and rubbed her eyes. “I thought they were just random.”

  “I’m sure most of them are. A lot of Outlanders who wander through are just unlucky victims.” Sunshine pointed her pipe at Coyote. “But think about it. So much technology makes it through to this world, and that can’t all be accidental.”

  “You make a good point.”

  “And . . . do you think you’re the only one hunting Outlanders?” She blew a large cloud of smoke, which obscured her face.

  “No . . . the Pinkerton Agency has a lot of different hunters.” A cold chill rand down her back, because she knew that’s not what Sunshine meant.

  “Pinkertons are a human agency.” Sunshine narrowed her eyes. “There’s also Outlanders hunting Outlanders . . . ” She waited for the words to sink in and then continued, “How do you think they get here if not deliberately?”

  Coyote mulled over Sunshine’s words for a few moments, blowing rings with her cigar smoke. “Have you met any of these Outlander hunters?”

  “I trade Outlander weapons. It’s not only humans I do business with.” Sunshine’s voice was noncommittal.

  “So you’re saying that there are those on the other side of the rips who can open them at will?”

  “I’m saying there are ways to control the rips.” Sunshine shook her head. The wrinkles in her face deepened as she frowned. “I don’t think opening them is as easy as that . . . but I do believe it’s possible.” She winked at Coyote and added, “I don’t think it’s just those on the other side either.”

  “You mean there are those who control the rips from here?”

  “They could . . . with the right technology, or maybe even magic?” Sunshine wiggled her eyebrows. “Know anyone who could have access to such things?”

  Coyote’s mood darkened and Caesar glanced at her, catching her eyes for the first time. He pulled his lips into a tight line, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was.

  “James Westwood,” she hissed, tapping her index finger on the table with frustration. “If anyone has the means, he does.”

  “Coyote . . . ” Caesar waved his hand at her to indicate she needed to calm down, and she nodded.

  “I know the man,” Sunshine said. “Likely candidate.” She added some tobacco to her pipe and puffed in contemplation. “That damn rip is a nuisance. What strikes me is that it seems to be leading to different worlds. We’ve seen several different Outlanders come out now. That’s rather unusual. When a rip is set, it leads to one world. But this one . . . I just don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Will you show us?”

  “You’re going to need to be patient,” Sunshine warned them as they crouched in the cornfield. The large stalks rose high above them, keeping them hidden from sight. The older woman pointed up at the sky. “That’s where it opens. Every day, like clockwork. Can’t guarantee something comes out of it though. Most of the time it just opens.”

  Coyote shifted her weight, trying to find a position where corn stalks didn’t poke her. “Has anyone else spotted them?”

  “Farmer who owns the fields pointed it out to me, so me and Phil came to investigate the rip.” Sunshine pointed toward the large farmhouse in the distance.

  Coyote bit her lip and frowned. “It’s never good if ordinary folk know about the rips. If he gossips, he’ll risk people coming to explore. Innocent people could run into some nasty Outlanders.”

  “Hank is an old friend,” Sunshine said, brushing corn silk from her blouse. “He doesn’t like peeping Toms at his farm, so he won’t be talking. We told him to come to us whenever there’s trouble with the rips.”

  “He knows what the rips are?”

  Sunshine shrugged. “We had to tell him.”

  Coyote wrinkled her nose and sighed. She didn’t like talking about Outlanders to those who didn’t know about them, but Sunshine had made the right call. If the rips opened up on this man’s land at regular intervals, it was best if he knew what he was dealing with.

  “Why didn’t you send word to the Pinkertons about this?” She looked at Sunshine Mary, who spat on the ground.

  “Pah,” Sunshine said, her face wrinkling in disgust. “I don’t deal with the Pinkertons. Their bounty hunters, sure, but not with the bigwigs themselves. I don’t trust them. Wouldn’t put it beyond them to confiscate my merchandise.”

  “You realize I need to call them in, right?” Coyote hated having to pull rank on a friend. Sunshine’s face darkened, and for a moment, Coyote feared she’d angered the woman, but then Mary nodded.

  “Yeah, I thought it might come to that eventually.” Sunshine sighed. “I knew the risk when I mentioned it to you. Part of me is glad to leave this up to
someone else, because we’ve been lucky so far, but who knows what could emerge from that rip?” She pointed up again, Coyote followed her finger, but the sky was still an uninterrupted blue.

  “Most likely, the Pinkertons will post someone to keep an eye out. He should be okay as long as things don’t get bad, but if they do, they might be inclined to take over your friend’s farm.”

  Sunshine shook her head. “Hank won’t like that one bit.”

  Before Coyote could respond, the corn around her rustled, and Caesar’s gentle face became visible as he pushed his way through the plants.

  “I investigated the area, but there is nothing out of the ordinary. At least nothing I can find,” he muttered.

  “It’s curious that the rips would open here . . . ,” Coyote mused, tapping her lip with a gloved finger. “Why not somewhere more private? With no human interference?”

  “Perhaps whoever is opening the rips has limited control?” Caesar’s face betrayed no emotion, his eyes half-lidded and calm. “If this is done by magic, there must be rules. I believe we would find the same applies to Outlander technology. Everything is bound by certain laws.”

  “What a mess,” Coyote sighed, pulling the derby away from her eyes and staring at the sky. The clouds floated by at a snail’s pace, as if they were mocking her with their normal, everyday behavior, and Coyote wished the damn rip would open already, anything so she could move from this spot. The corn obscured her vision, and the wind played with the stalks, creating a menacing swish.

  “You said these rips always opened at a set time?” Coyote asked hopefully.

  “Well, not an exact time, but it should open between now and a few hours.”

  “Hours?” Coyote repeated miserably, and she moved around again in an attempt to get more comfortable. It didn’t work, and her limbs were starting to feel sore. Caesar sat down next to her, his eyes veering toward the sky.

  Minutes turned into an hour, and Coyote’s patience was wearing thin. Just at the point when she wanted to give up and leave the whole thing to the Pinkertons, it happened.