Wild (7 page)

I tucked a length of rope into my pocket and grabbed the large rock for a weapon, and slunk outside. The backside of my tent faced the large one I had seen earlier. Two guards stood outside it, facing a great fire in the distance. Their backs were to the large tent, and to me, but they had knives on their belts and the crowd at the fire was within earshot. I needed to find Matt or Tom first. I crept off in the direction the second of my captors had pointed. There were no guards outside that tent, either, and when I looked inside there was Matt, curled up in the dirt, snoring.

“Matt,” I said. He didn’t answer, and I slapped him hard across the face. He woke with a grunt, and if his hands hadn’t been tied, he probably would have punched me. I gave him a moment to get his bearing, and then untied him.

“Where’s Tom?” he asked, rubbing his wrists and ankles.

“No sign of him,” I said. “I think he’s still free. If he’s not dead.”

“I hope he isn’t dead, because I sure don’t have any more guns,” Matt said, patting his waist.

“The good news is I only saw two guards. There were two more watching me, but someone rang a bell and they walked off. The others I saw were outside the big tent. That’s where I’d keep the colonel, if I were them.”

“Only two, huh?” he said. “Cocky bastards, though I guess I’d be confident, too, if my boss could do magic.” He rose to his feet and stretched. “Let’s go beat those guys up and see what’s inside that tent.”

I handed Matt my rock and took the rope from my pocket as we eased towards the large tent. The two men were still watching the fire in the distance. I heard drumming and chanting coming from the fire now, and the guards muttered under their breath, as well. I pulled the rope taut between my hands and wrapped it around one man’s neck while Matt smashed the rock down on the other’s head. His man fell silently to the ground, and mine, after clawing at the rope for a moment, dropped to his knees and passed out. Matt knocked him upside the skull for good measure.

The large tent’s opening was tied shut from the outside, and we pressed our ears up against the thick leather for a moment. When we heard nothing inside, Matt untied the flap and poked his head in, then pulled the flap open. There was no one inside. Two rough, wooden tables were against one wall, piled with bread, cheese, skins of water, and our guns. The ground was scuffed in places. I ran to the table and strapped on my gun belt. When I handed Matt his weapons, he was kneeling beside the larger patch of scuffed dirt.

“The colonel was tied up here,” he said, “and the boy, over there. The colonel is hurt.” He pointed at a dark spot in the dirt.

“Blood?” I asked. Matt nodded, and rose to his feet.

“I think we can still hold out hope for
Señor
Tom,” I said, gesturing toward the table. “His weapons weren’t with ours.” I stuffed my cheeks with bread and cheese and swallowed it down with water. Matt did the same.

“Our
hechicero
must be putting on a show,” Matt said when he was done eating. “That’s the only thing that explains that big campfire, the colonel and the boy being taken from the tent, and the lack of manpower left behind to watch us.”

“We need to bring our opponents inside and tie them up,” I said. We dragged them in, bound and gagged them with strips of their own clothing, and headed outside, towards the large fire in the distance. The drumming and chanting had grown faster and louder while we were inside. When we were close enough to distinguish the shapes of the men seated around the fire, swaying and beating drums, we dropped to our hands and knees and began crawling.

“Freeze,” someone whispered as we crawled closer to the fire. A gun cocked, and I saw metal poking out of a nearby bush.

“Tom?” Matt called, rolling to one side and aiming a revolver at the bush.

“Oh, it’s you,” the outlaw said, peering out from the scrub. His eyes darted nervously as he put down the gun and crawled over to us. “I thought you were done for.”

“You could have looked for us,” I said.

Tom started to say something, but Matt waved his hand and the outlaw fell silent.

“The wizard’s posse is all over,” Matt said. “Probably the colonel and the kid, too. Keep close, like before. We should be able to get right on top of them, what with the noise and the high grass.” Tom nodded and circled away from us, back into the deep brush.

Matt and I inched forward through the scrub until I could almost reach out and touch the nearest drummer, seated with his back to me. The fire was larger than I’d thought. Flames jumped high into the air and even through our cover, the heat baked my face. The men were in a trance of some sort. The only one in the circle who appeared to be in full control was a short man bearing a staff. He wore a wooden mask carved in the shape of a cat’s face. The mouth was framed with thick, sharp, yellow teeth, and there was a heavy-looking necklace of black stones around his neck. One of his legs was covered in a snakeskin boot, and the other in a soft, leather moccasin.

He knelt several feet from the fire, between two wide wooden boards. A large man, black hair shot with gray, was strapped to one of the boards, a teenage boy to the other. The masked man, the
hechicero
, laid a hand on each of the captives’ chests and chanted in time with the drumming. I steadied my revolver, aimed at the wizard’s head, and looked at Matt.

“Take him down,” he whispered.

Then Black Tom thrust himself up from the bushes, brandishing the shotgun.

“Nobody move,” he yelled.

“Sonofabitch,” Matt muttered, cocking his guns.

Then everything happened all at once.

Part Five

1886, Las Cruces, New Mexico

“Now you fellas there stay right where you’re at,” Tom said, covering the seated natives with his shotgun. “You,” he gestured toward the
hechicero
with the gun barrel, “send one of these guys to go get your money. All of it. And if you say any magic words, I’m gonna show you what I have up
my
sleeve.”

“No words,” the
hechicero
whispered, taking a step towards Tom.

Juan twitched alongside Matt, beneath the cover of the tall, dry grass outside the ritual circle, ready to take advantage of the distraction when Tom started shooting. Tom didn’t shoot though. The only motion was a large bead of sweat trickling down the outlaw’s brow. He didn’t even blink when it rolled into his eye.

“More magic,” Juan gasped.

“Just wait,” Matt whispered. “This isn’t our chance.”

The
hechicero
motioned toward the men nearest Tom, and they rushed forward, plucked the shotgun from his stiff, motionless hands dragged the outlaw into the center of the circle. The wizard rose to his feet and pulled a leather skin from his belt.

“I know you can hear me,” the
hechicero
said. “There is no rescue for you. Your friends are tied up in my tents. You are in my power. And now,” he pulled a stopper from the skin and tipped the container into Tom’s mouth, “You are my creature.”

One of the natives pried the outlaw’s mouth open and tilted his head back, and the wizard dumped the contents of the skin down his throat. Thick, dark red liquid spilled across his cheeks and spattered on the ground as he swallowed reflexively. The masked man threw the empty skin into the fire, and his men released their grip on Tom. The outlaw swayed in the breeze and shuddered. His eyes rolled back into his head and he screamed once before falling to his knees.

“Now?” Juan asked.

“Not yet.”

The drummers resumed their rhythmic beat and the rest of the celebrants began to chant as Tom twitched and rolled on the ground. The
hechicero
raised his hands to the sky and cried out in a strange tongue. Tom staggered to his feet and stood beside the masked priest, staring blankly at the cheering crowd around him.

“Now!” Matt yelled, rising onto one knee and firing at the
hechicero
’s head. Tom’s swaying form intercepted the bullet and it caught him in the shoulder, driving him backwards into the wizard. Two men leapt to their feet and threw knives in response. Matt dove out of the way just in time.

Juan swore in Spanish as a blade gouged a chunk from his forearm and plunged into the ground beside him. He rolled to the side and fired twice. One man went down with a bullet in his throat, and Juan scrambled for the discarded shotgun while Matt took the other attacker down.

Matt ran back to the campsite with Juan at his side, both firing over their shoulders into the group of men that pursued them, waving axes and whirling slings over their heads. When the gunmen gained enough ground, they turned around and began firing in earnest. The attackers, ten in all, fell without laying a hand on Matt or Juan. As they reloaded their guns, Matt saw the
hechicero
stooped over the colonel and his son again. What was left of Tom shambled towards them.

“I’ll take care of Tom,” Juan said, holding the shotgun out to Matt. “You still have rounds for this?”

“A couple,” he said, grasping the weapon. “Ought to make short work of that wizard, if I can surprise him.”

“It looks like he’s distracted,” Juan said. “Take your time. I’m not going to make any noise until you’re out of sight.” The Mexican doctor pulled a long bayonet from his boot and ran towards the undead outlaw.

Matt cut off to the side and threw himself into the tall grass.

* * * *

Juan reached Tom faster than he expected. The undead outlaw’s skin had already begun to pale and his eyes to turn yellow. Juan thrust the bayonet up, catching the Tom-thing in the throat. It staggered back, gushing blood onto the ground and Juan. Then it stumbled forward, wrapped its hands around the doctor’s neck, and squeezed. Matt reached the edge of the campfire and waited just inside the tall, dry grass. Several of the
hechicero
’s followers remained in the circle, hollow-eyed and still, under the influence of the priest’s ritual drugs. The wizard himself was crouched over the now-struggling colonel, swaying back and forth on his knees and singing. Matt trained the shotgun on the
hechicero
and tightened his finger on the trigger.

The boy
, he thought.
I should at least free the kid first, in case the wizard nails me
. He covered the remaining, entranced followers with the gun and crawled into the circle.

* * * *

Juan struggled against the
cuerpo’s
grip, and the creature’s feet tangled up in his own. As he fell, he caught a glimpse of Matt, silhouetted against the blazing campfire.

No gun
, he thought.
The noise might make the
hechicero
turn around
.
Hijo de la chingada
. The
cuerpo
bent its neck and snapped at Juan’s cheek, but the doctor rolled over, forcing the monster onto its back, and drove its head into the ground. He had to finish this quick, and quietly. The creature’s grip on his neck grew tighter, and spots danced before his eyes.

* * * *

The boy looked up as Matt crept up beside him. He opened his mouth, but the gunman slammed his hand over it.

“Henry, right?” Matt whispered. The boy nodded beneath the ropes binding him to the board. “I’m a friend of your father’s.” Matt looked around; the wizard was still chanting over the colonel, and the followers gave no indication they had noticed him. Matt set the shotgun down, pulled out a knife and cut the boy’s ropes.

“Now stay quiet, and start crawling,” he told the boy. “When you reach the tent where they were keeping you, find a place to hide and don’t come out until you hear my voice.” The boy looked back at his father. “Don’t worry about him,” Matt said. The boy’s eyes opened wide, and Matt followed his gaze.

The
hechicero
had stopped chanting, and had raised a knife above the colonel’s chest.

* * * *

Juan felt himself begin to black out, and forced himself to keep the Tom-thing’s head pinned to the ground. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for a sharp rock or weapon. His bayonet lay a foot away, where it had fallen from the creature’s neck. Juan braced himself against his attacker’s throat and leaned forward. It was just out of reach.

Chingada madre,
he thought, and moved his hand further up, against the
cuerpo’s
face. A sharp pain blazed through the doctor’s hand as his other grasped the bayonet. He reared back and plunged the blade into the creature’s eye once, twice. The pressure around his neck relaxed and he sucked in a sharp, painful breath. He rolled over onto his side and examined his other hand. The undead outlaw had bitten his small finger off down to the second knuckle.

Juan swore again, drew his service revolver and placed the muzzle against the base of the finger.

* * * *

Damn
, Matt thought as the boy rushed forward. He jumped on the
hechicero
’s back as Henry scooped up the shotgun. The wizard roared, spun around and backhanded the boy. The kid flew backwards, out of the shotgun’s range, and Matt gave the priest both barrels. The
hechicero
slammed the knife down into the colonel’s chest with an unearthly scream as the blasts tore into his chest and stomach. Then he fell over and didn’t move.