The Gunner Chronicles

by Bard Constantine

  Bane nodded, turning in the direction of the mesa and stomping off, unhindered by the heavy mud, stepping on top of the dead bodies in his path as if they were rotten logs.

  Wiley grinned. "This is gonna be fun. I can't wait to see the expressions on their faces when he reaches the summit. It's gonna be a massacre."

  "There you are." Pablo came upon Gunner as he sat under the awning of one of the brick huts, quietly observing the Mahinarah as they cleaned up after the storm, repairing rooftops and lodges, sweeping pathways, removing tree branches. Others took care of the freed prisoners, offering food, checking their wounds. There was a remarkable difference between the half-starved mine workers and their brethren, who looked hale and fit in comparison, dressed in clean leggings, shirts, and colorful shawls and blouses. Larger, muscular warriors with massive jaws, shaved heads, fierce eyes, and braided topknots walked the perimeter with rifles propped on their shoulders.

  Enya splashed over with a bowl of soup and a sharp-smelling herbal tea in handmade wooden dishes. Gunner tried to refuse the food, pointing to his injured throat. She pressed the tea in his hands, motioning for him to drink.

  "Good. Make better."

  He sipped, wincing in pain. But after a few seconds, he looked up in surprise. His voice was low and raspy. "You're right. Feels a little better already."

  She smiled.

  Pablo dropped to a crouch beside Gunner, gazing at the surroundings through streams of water that drained from the roof like liquid prison bars. "I am surprised to see you receive such hospitality from the Mahinarah. Not many know of their gentle side. I would not think you to be one of them, considering your reputation."

  Gunner sipped his tea, clearing his throat with a pained expression. "A well-deserved reputation. No one was better at killing them than I was. Back when I was in the Texas cavalry and only knew them as Ferals. Mean, vicious killers, infected creatures that preyed on human flesh." He shook his head. "I never questioned the notion. All I'd seen was the warriors, and they were fierce. It was considered an honorable thing to wipe them out wherever they were found."

  Enya wrapped her hands around his arm, looking up with glassy yellow eyes, lost in the painful memories.

  Gunner sighed. "What I didn't know was that the commanders knew the truth about the Mahinarah. They knew that killing the Keeper would turn the warriors berserk, minds untethered and blind with rage. In that state, they'd kill anything that moved. So the cavalry commanders were ordered to send assassins to sneak into the Mahinarah villages and murder the Keepers, allowing the fighters to run wild to justify the cavalry riding in and wiping them out. They wanted the land, you see. Fertile soil, fresh water. Good for raising crops and livestock."

  Pablo shook his head. "An unsurprising revelation, but tragic all the same. The story never changes. Man lords it over man to his own injury."

  "I lost brothers to their fighters. Bodies torn apart, gutted like animals. I hated them. I wanted to kill them all. So I made a name for myself as a Feral hunter. I took hundreds of scalps in battle after battle. It was never enough. One day my company was tracking a band of warriors near El Paso. They were a smart group—ambushed us in a canyon valley. Most of my men were killed. I managed to escape but didn't make it too far. I stumbled on a cougar near her den of kittens."

  He lifted his fingers, tracing the scars on his face. "She lit into me hard and fast. Would've killed me if I hadn't fallen off the cliffside. I lay there on the rocks, broken and dying when the Mahinarah found me. They lifted me and carried me to their village, where I figured they'd cut me up and eat me. Instead, they took care of me. Tended to my wounds and nursed me back from the brink. And then I met their Keeper, who shared the memories of what we'd done to them."

  A tear slid down his cheek. Enya mirrored his action, still linked to him in memory. A mewling sound came from her throat.

  "I wanted to die all over again when I realized the truth of my sin. Of the murders I was guilty of. When I was healthy enough to travel, I went back to my post and confronted my commander, who admitted the truth. But he felt no remorse, threatening to court-martial me if I spoke a word about it to anyone. In my rage, I shot him right there. He crawled away and died in front of a room full of his men. I barely escaped, fleeing the territory with them behind me all the way. The Mahinarah kept me hidden, and I helped them fight back, showing them how to use the weapons that could even the odds. But in the end, all we could do was retreat. The numbers were too great, the weapons too deadly. We were scattered to the winds, running for our lives. I had to leave the tribe because I was more of a target than they were. But I went knowing that wherever I was, they were alive in me and me in them because we remember. They are my family now. The only family I have left."

  "You earned their forgiveness," Pablo said. "Not an easy thing to do. But you have to forgive yourself as well, or you will never be able to move on."

  Gunner shook his head. "Some things you can't move on from. Some things stay with you all the days of your life. They make a man who he is and all he'll ever be. Can't change who you are, Pablo. That would be living a lie."

  "What is impossible with man is possible with God," Pablo said. "All you have to do is give yourself to Him, and He will give you power beyond what is normal."

  Gunner said nothing, staring wistfully at the Mahinarah. “Look at them. More human than we’ll ever be.”

  Pablo sighed. “The man that you asked me about. The one with crimson eyes. Does he have a name?”

  Gunner stiffened. “His name is Victor.”

  “He was there. In Town. Months ago.”

  “I thought you never saw him.”

  “I didn’t. As I said, I never laid eyes on him. But I heard about him. The townspeople talk. He’s the one that captured the Mahinarah for the mines. He came, did the job, then moved on. People were relieved. They were afraid of him. Even the Judge was careful with the man. They say there was something about him. Something...evil.”

  “They wouldn’t be wrong. Did they say what direction he headed?”

  “East. That’s all I know.”

  Something boomed, echoing across the air. Pablo looked up; forehead creased. "That didn't sound like thunder."

  Gunner leaped to his feet. "No. It was a gunshot."

  He ran down the path, slipping on wet pebbles, moving toward the sound of booming gunfire, teeth gritted, eyes wild. At the edge of the mesa, a towering figure in tattered clothes and a wide-brimmed hat towered above the Mahinarah warriors, electric eyes glowing, firing shot after shot from his massive hand cannon. Behind him, an approaching storm darkened the horizon, flickering with hellish lightning. Thunder shook the ground, bodies fell to the sodden earth, massive cavities spewing blood from the deadly blasts. The air rang with shrill war cries and screams from the wounded. Bane moved slowly, taking his time to aim and fire while their rounds bounced harmlessly from his armored body.

  Gunner snatched up a bolt action rifle from one of the fallen, firing a round at Bane's head. "Hey!" He worked the handle on the bolt, ejecting the cartridge and loading another round. "You came here for me. Well, come and get me." He fired again, scoring a direct hit in Bane's chest. The giant stumbled backward, righting himself quickly. The bandanna fell from his face, revealing a metallic snarl of clenched teeth. Lifting his cannon, he pulled the trigger.

  Gunner had already moved, sliding across the mud as an explosive blast erupted where he'd been standing, spattering mud and water over him. He rolled to a stop, worked the bolt again, then aimed and fired. A click, then nothing. Cursing, he hurled the empty weapon away, scrambling to his feet as Bane aimed again.

  One of the warriors whooped, firing a barbed hook from a gas-powered gun, snagging Bane's arm so that his shot went wide over Gunner's head. More warriors fired grappling guns, hooking Bane's arms and legs while others scrambled to secure the cables to the ground with long stakes fired from powder-actuated fastening guns. Bane pulled and tugged against the wires, gun empty, cl
othes ripped to shreds, metal-armored body straining, electric-blue eyes flashing. One of the cables snapped with a twanging sound, flinging a warrior high into the air.

  Gunner cupped his hands, shouting into the wind. "It's not gonna hold. Fall back. Fall back to the caves!"

  The warriors backed away, firing primitive rifles, arrows from compound bows, some even hurling rocks. The storm clouds rushed in as if eager to witness the battle, bringing in heavy rain that pelted the already saturated ground. Silvery slashes of lightning forked back and forth, turning Bane into a monstrous silhouette, metal hide gleaming as he tore free of his restraints. He roared, vapor billowing from his mouth as he charged across the ground, splashing water with each heavy step. Some of the hooks still stuck in his limbs, cables flailing behind him as he ran.

  The warriors darted through a sparse grove of sycamore trees, leaping up into the branches and from tree to tree. Some took positions and continued to fire at the behemoth as he tore through the woods, smashing into trees hard enough to shake the warriors from the limbs. Ignoring the fallen, he ran after Gunner, who broke through the thicket and ran for the caves with Bane hot on his heels.

  As he reached the cave mouth, one of the warriors emerged with a gas container on his back and flamethrower in hand. Gunner turned, shocked to see Bane closing in incredibly fast, abandoning his cannon for a knife longer than most swords, glinting in the flashes of lightning.

  The warrior ignited the flamethrower, expelling a brilliant pulse of liquid fire that engulfed Bane, soaking him in red-yellow tongues of pure hell, hissing as they away at his body, melting whatever flesh remained like hot wax, destroying every human remnant of whoever he had been.

  The robotic frame emerged from the flames like an unholy revenant, metallic bones white-hot, half his face missing, one eye burnt out. He seized the warrior by the face with one steel-fingered hand, crushing it like a raw egg. The others retreated, firing their weapons in futility, bullets ineffectual against his skeletal frame. Gunner stood in front, waving them away, backing up toward the glow and rising heat of the forge where the automaton still tended to its duties, obliviously pounding away at an alloyed plate with a large hammer, raising sparks with every blow. Gunner picked up a long piece of rebar, waving it back and forth in front of Bane like a bone to a dog, practically begging him to take the bait as he retreated toward the hanging vat of molten metal, bubbling and hissing, ready to be poured into the molds. Several of the warriors leaped to the metal rafters, preparing to tip the vat when ready.

  Bane stopped in his tracks, looking above Gunner's head, studying the forge with his remaining eye, head scanning side to side. Bullets bounced harmlessly off his metal bones. Ignoring the warriors that whooped and danced just out of his reach, he turned and looked back at the mouth of the cave, focusing on the path that would lead to the village. Where the women and children huddled, frightened and helpless.

  "No!" Gunner hurled the piece of rebar, striking Bane in the shoulder. "It's me you want. Not them. Me."

  Bane stared at him, eye whirring and flashing. With his bottom jaw missing, it seemed his mouth was open in a never-ending scream of laughter. Ignoring the warriors, ignoring Gunner, he turned and headed back to the cave entrance. Gunner picked up a heavy pipe wrench and dashed forward, striking Bane in the leg so hard that his teeth rattled. Bane swiped his arm backward, catching Gunner in the chest, knocking him ten yards back. He hit the ground and curled into a fetal position, clutching his sternum and gasping for air. The warriors fell on Bane like a living avalanche, trying to pull him back, shattering rifles and bending steel against his alloyed frame. He shrugged them off, slammed them into the ground, breaking bones, swinging the razor-sharp blade, cutting limps apart in grisly sprays of blood, leaving a trail of injured bodies behind him, never breaking stride, an unstoppable juggernaut with his mind fixated on slaughter.

  Pablo appeared at the mouth of the tunnel with Enya scampering by his side. A rocket launcher rested on his shoulder. Dropping to one knee, he fired it. The rocket exploded on impact, sending Bane flying backward in a blast of flame and trailing smoke, both legs shattered, one arm severed, body parts skipping across the cave. The main torso landed in front of the forge, flailing like an enormous injured insect, head jerking, one arm reaching out toward Gunner as if trying with all his might to satisfy some insatiable need to kill. One of the warriors tilted the vat of molten metal over, pouring it over Bane's remains. The magma covered him, sizzling and smoking, red-orange and silver, flowing across the ground like hot molasses. Gunner crawled to his feet, stumbling away, shielding his face from the heat.

  Winded, clutching his bruised chest, he turned and squinted at Pablo, who approached with the launcher tucked under his arm. He smiled at Gunner's expression.

  "Don't look so surprised, amigo. I haven't been a son of God my entire life. Enya here helped me find this launcher in a heap of old weapons. Took a lot of digging to find a rocket to fit, but we got here as quick as we could."

  Gunner clapped him on the shoulder. "Much appreciated. Don't think we would have been able to stop him." He glanced back at the fallen warriors, face turning somber. "As it is, the Mahinarah lost many of their warriors today. The Judge is gonna pay for this."

  "The Judge is dead."

  Wiley stepped out of the gloom with a grin on his face, twin Reapers in both hands. "The Baron had Bane take care of him. He died, screaming and crying like a little bitch. Then we killed his people. And now I'm gonna kill you, Gunner. Been looking forward to it for a long time."

  Pointing one of the Reapers directly at Gunner, he fired.

  Chapter 12: Fire and Brimstone

  Pablo jumped in front of Gunner, jerking backward as the round struck, sending both of them sprawling into the damp earth. Two more shots rang out, the echoes crashing in the cave like thunder. Gunner pulled himself from under Pablo, staring as Wiley stumbled in front of him, gasping, blood trickling from his mouth. He slumped forward and slammed face-first into the ground.

  Janey stood behind him, smoking revolver in hand. She spat on his corpse and holstered her weapon, dropping to one knee beside Gunner, who cradled Pablo's body in his arms. "Pablo, you old fool. Why would you do that?"

  He looked up at Gunner, light fading from his eyes. "Why? It is the…Way, Gunner. No one…has love greater than this: that he…lay down one's life for one's…friends." His eyes fluttered shut, and his body went limp.

  Jamey shook her head. "Damn it. I was hiding out in Town after the Baron took over. Saw that bastard Wiley and the metal monster heading up the mesa. Decided to follow. Didn't get here in time."

  Gunner gently laid Pablo's body on the ground. "Much obliged, Janey."

  "We need to get the hell away from here, Gunner. The Baron ain't gonna stop. She'll be sending everyone up here once she figures out they ain't coming down. We could be deep into Mexico by then. Find a train or a caravan and head out to Tucson or Nogales."

  Gunner picked the Reaper up stood, staring at the dead bodies on the ground. "You go on ahead. I'll make sure no one comes after you."

  Her head jerked up in surprise. "You're planning on going to war with the Baron? By yourself? That's crazy. She's gotta have a couple hundred guns down there. All deputized. Legal. That's a suicide mission. I know you're mad about the preacher, but think straight for a minute. Why would you wanna even try to take on those kinds of odds?"

  He rolled Wiley over, unbuckled the gun belt, and snatched it from his waist. "Like you said—she'll be coming up here soon with everything she has. When she does, everyone dies. I'm not gonna let that happen."

  "You're gonna put your life on the line for some mangy Ferals? Why would you—" She cut off at seeing the murderous look on his face.

  "I'm not asking for your help, Janey. You did me a favor here. Far as me and you are concerned, we're more than evened up." He cinched the belt around his waist and holstered the Reapers. "You go your way; I'll go mine."

  She stared him for
a moment before shrugging. "Fine, I'll help."

  "It ain't gonna be pretty. And if you go in, you might not come back out."

  "I said I'd go. I know the Judge was my grandfather, but he deserved to die. Waingrow is a different story. He was like a brother to me. When I got jumped by a gang in Reno, it was him that came and fought through all of them to get me out. I owed a lot to him. So don’t try and tell me what to do and where to go. What's the plan?"

  Gunner picked up the rocket launcher. "The plan? I'm going down there and I'm gonna kill 'em all."

  She glanced over at the forge, where the rusty robot kept on beating plates of metal with its hammer, unconcerned with what occurred around it.

  "I think we can do a little better than that."

  The dead were buried. The living prepared for war.

  At the mouth of the tunnel leading back to the Town, Gunner gathered with a handful of the Mahinarah warriors, picking through the assortment of old weapons they had collected over the years. The forge provided the only illumination, the furnace casting flickering light across the darkness of the hewn stone.

  "Did Janey take the flamethrower? Good. Are those the spare rockets?" Gunner accepted them from Enya, carefully placing them in a large duffel bag. One of the remaining warriors handed him the large knife Bane had wielded. Gunner slung it in a makeshift scabbard on his back and placed an old Puritan-style slouch hat on his head, the band fastened by a wide brass buckle, the wide brim hanging over his eyes.

  Bodhi joined them, corralled by a trio of protective warriors. You do not have to do this alone, Agni Chaya. What we have is yours. My warriors wish to avenge their fallen brothers and sisters.

  "You got precious few warriors left. They're better off protecting you in case things go south down there. Two of 'em will guide me through the tunnels, but I'm sending them back up. I don't want any more of your blood on my hands."