Vultures' Moon Page 10

  “We only visited the bigger places,” he said, clearly flustered.

  “Makes no odds,” said Jed as they drew closer. “This town ain’t seen no visitors for twenty years or more.”

  The others looked around and saw that Jed was right. The main street was overgrown with weeds. Windows were broken, doors were hanging off and creaking in the breeze. Awnings and hoardings were peeling. Of human habitation there was no sign.

  “It’s a ghost town,” said Belle.

  The horse seemed to pick up her mood and slowed its pace despite Jed’s insistence.

  “We ain’t staying here, are we, Jed?”

  “Nope. Besides, there’s nothing here to stop for.”

  They passed a saloon, an undertaker’s, a general store - The similarities with Tarnation did not escape the gunslinger. He supposed all towns were basically the same, just folks grouping together to help each other through life, exchanging services and goods and labour.

  “What happened here?” Willoughby was looking around wide-eyed. He had edged closer to Belle on the seat.

  “We ain’t got time for mysteries,” Jed muttered. “Perhaps the water supply ran dry. Perhaps traders stopped coming.”

  “The dust?” Belle edged closer to Jed.

  “There ain’t no sign of that,” Jed gave her a pointed look. “This place has been empty a long time. Far as I know the dust is a recent, ah, problem.”

  The end of the town’s only street was just ahead. A sheriff’s office opposite a bank, both like neglected monuments to their former selves.

  “Ain’t no sign of gillyflowers neither,” said Belle sadly.

  Beyond these last buildings, free of their shadows, the horse perked up and within minutes the abandoned settlement was dropping behind them. The oppressive mood lifted; they were glad to get away. Willoughby didn’t look back this time - a pity because on this occasion he might have been able to detect they were being followed.

  ***

  The land northwards of the ghost town was patchy with rocks and hardy shrubs. The road ran valiantly through it, heading towards the horizon and Wheelhub. Jed was uneasy; there were too many places for bandits to lie in ambush, or wild critters to pounce from. He was counting on the long-abandoned state of the township meaning everything else had left the area too.

  He was missing Horse. In such a situation Horse would be aware of any danger long before Jed was. A pang went through the gunslinger’s chest and he couldn’t help wondering whether the critter was missing him too. He would not be surprised; Horse was a marvellous creation.

  Jed chided himself for thinking uncharitably of the dutiful and hardworking nag that was currently pulling the wagon. It was an even-tempered beast, sure-footed and maintained a steady pace. It responded quickly to Jed’s commands and was apparently undaunted by dangerous terrain.

  Jed vowed to treat the horse better and look to giving it an early and luxurious retirement.

  “Jed...” Belle clutched his forearm.

  “There’s something out there,” Willoughby added.

  “Whut?” said Jed. He took his eyes from the road ahead for only one second to question his companions. It was enough. The horse let out a scream of surprise as something bowled into it, making it stumble to its knees. The wagon swung violently and when the horse stopped, it flew up into the air and landed on its side. Jed and Belle managed to hang on but Willoughby was thrown skywards. Luckily he landed in a shrub rather than the rocks that flanked it.

  “Whut the...?” Jed climbed from the wagon and helped Belle to her feet. The horse was down with its eyes rolling and its forelegs stamping the air. Red rips appeared at the base of its thick throat, accompanied by a guttural snarling.

  “Jed!” Belle tried to hold onto the gunslinger for protection. Jed approached the horse, baffled by the attack. He stooped, scooped up a handful of dirt and threw it at the struggling animal.

  For a second, shapes appeared. A paw here, a furry haunch there, a snout, sharp teeth, and then these features disappeared again.

  “Jed...?” Belle stayed by the wagon. She gasped when she saw the gunslinger draw his gun.

  “Stay back!” Jed barked. He threw another handful of dust and fired off a blast. There was a yelp and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. The dying critter flickered in and out of sight as its circuits tried to camouflage it against the ground.

  Belle was at Jed’s elbow.

  “What in Hell...?” she whispered.

  “Chameleote,” Jed gave the corpse a kick. It was a large, silver-grey doglike creature, rather nondescript now it was visible.

  “A what?”

  “Type of coyote with the abilities of a chameleon. I thought they’d been discontinued.”

  “Discontinued?”

  “They’re man-made. From the Pioneer days. Let loose on Vultures’ Moon to, ah, clear out the natives, I guess.”

  Belle was aghast.

  “Er...Jed...”

  It was Willoughby. He was backed against the smooth side of a boulder - more than that, he was pinned there by one of the invisible creatures.

  Jed looked at the paw prints that were appearing in the dirt and gauged there were two of them.

  “Keep your hands by your sides,” he instructed Willoughby. “Don’t make any sudden moves.”

  Willoughby whimpered and lost control of his bladder. This seemed to excite the unseen animals. Jed was backing towards the wagon, pulling Belle by her hand although she resisted, keeping her eyes on the young man.

  “Don’t leave me!” Willoughby wailed. “Shoot it! Or shoot me! I don’t hardly care which.”

  “Jed...?” Belle struggled in his grasp. He yanked her roughly towards the wagon.

  “Shoot me!” Willoughby cried, throwing his head back. This action exposed his throat to the chameleotes. Invisible tongues licked invisible teeth. They prepared to leap.

  At the wagon, Jed pushed Belle to the ground. She swore but he was paying her no mind. He dove his hand under the overturned awning and pulled out a bottle of bright red liquid. He strode back towards Willoughby’s rock and hurled the bottle in the air. Before the bottle could begin its descent, Jed shattered it with a bullet. Red rain covered the scene, revealing the creatures, which Jed blasted to oblivion before they could realise what was happening.

  Willoughby gasped with surprise to open his eyes and find himself whole and wet with medicine. He stepped gingerly over the dead critters and rushed towards Belle. He helped her to stand and they embraced, exhilarated and relieved.

  “Thanks!” Willoughby cast in Jed’s direction.

  Jed’s expression was less than celebratory.

  “It ain’t over,” he muttered.

  “Do you mean there’s more?” Belle cried. She held onto Willoughby a little longer. Willoughby didn’t complain.

  Jed tended to the horse, calming it with words and soothing it with strokes.

  “We best get moving,” he declared. “These three are females. They hunt as a trio but they take their kill back to the male. There’s a male chameleote not far from here. Back in the town would be my guess. When they don’t go back, he’ll come looking for his dinner.”

  Belle and Willoughby shared worried looks.

  “Belle, find some lineament or something and bathe the horse’s wounds. Willoughby, you and me are going to set this wagon back on its wheels.”

  The others obeyed without question. Jed would keep them safe, they could tell.

  ***

  Before long they were on the road again. Jed had suggested they lighten the load out of respect for their weakened horse and so, to Willoughby’s chagrin, cases of bottles were left behind, stashed behind some boulders, out of respect for Willoughby’s insistence that they come back and collect them some
day.

  “That stuff’s worth a lot of cash,” he grumbled.

  “To Doc Swallow,” said Jed abruptly and the young man was stung into silence.

  Their pace was slower, naturally, but the horse wasn’t lame or limping and they stopped for more frequent breaks to give it water.

  “We could do with finding a creek afore long,” Jed told them. “Water’s running low and the horse is our priority.”

  “How far to Wheelhub?” Willoughby asked, breaking the silence he’d maintained for several miles.

  “Be there by nightfall maybe,” Jed looked at the sky. Buzzards were heading in the opposite direction to enjoy a rare feast of chameleote meat. “Maybe,” he reiterated.

  Belle’s mind was on Gillyflower Gulch. She fretted and surmised about it to herself, knitting her brows, until she could contain her thoughts no longer.

  “How awful it must have been!” she began. “How terrifying! Those poor folks. Not knowing what was attacking them. Not knowing what invisible monsters had moved into their town.”

  Willoughby nodded. He just wanted to get away from that place and talking about it didn’t help.

  “Do you think some folk got away, Jed?” Belle nudged the gunslinger. “Do you think some of them saved themselves? I hope some of them did.”

  Jed didn’t respond. He kept a watchful eye on the horse and the road ahead but all the while he was thinking about the male chameleote. Alone, he’d be more dangerous now. If there had been time, Jed would have hunted the beast down and put an end to its predations, but they had to keep moving. It might already be too late for Belle’s sister; Jed was aware of that possibility.

  And if it was too late for Lilimae, then it was also too late for Horse.

  Wheelhub!

  They passed cultivated land. Farms and ranches replaced the scrubland wilderness. Belle and Willoughby amused each other in a childish guessing game of what type of critter they’d spot next on either side of the road: ovine or bovine? Jed pulled a face to say he was exasperated with the pair of them but it was only for show. He played the game with himself in silence.

  The critters they spotted were unaltered, natural beasts with no enhancements apart from those brought about by generations of selective breeding to produce the best meat or wool yield. Jed was reminded of the stolen critters, those miraculous creatures that had kept the dark dust at bay. Where were they now?

  Which led to the inevitable question: What is Plisp up to?

  As yet Jed had no clear idea of his adversary’s grand scheme. Stolen sheep, a fort of altered soldiers, the dark dust on the loose... They were like pieces of different puzzles and try as he might, Jed couldn’t make any of them slot into place.

  “Look at all this land,” Willoughby changed the subject; he’d been losing the game.

  “You’ve seen land before,” Belle observed.

  “No, I mean all this belongs to somebody. I’m going to own me a passel of land like this someday. You see if I don’t.”

  Jed punctuated this declaration with a loud expulsion of spit.

  “You cain’t own land. Nobody can; not really.”

  The others considered this in silence. Jed had a vision of the endless fields of grass and grain turning grey and brown, eaten away by the dark dust swarming over the land like maggots boiling over a dead dog.

  “Ovine,” said Willoughby after a few minutes, but Belle was no longer up for playing.

  “We’re getting close to the city, ain’t we?” She was wringing her hands in her lap. For all the enjoyment and excitement of the journey that had distracted her from worrying about her sister, the reality was drawing in and would have to be dealt with. Every turn of the wheels brought her nearer to facing her sister’s fate.

  Jed sensed the tension in the young woman seated beside him. He suggested a brief stop-off to freshen up and collect their thoughts.

  Belle was grateful but Willoughby was annoyed. So close to their destination, he wanted to get this journey done with. He wanted to reclaim his wagon and get on with his life. He’d quite enjoyed the company of these two, and stars above, he wouldn’t have made it to Wheelhub alone. If’n the dark dust hadn’t got him, those chameleotes would’ve.

  Belle took herself out of sight for her private business. Jed made water against a tree.

  Willoughby considered sliding over and taking the reins and just taking off, but he decided against it; he couldn’t do that to these people who were sort of his friends.

  Jed caught the boy’s eye as he made his way from the tree to the back of the wagon. Willoughby reddened as if Jed had actually caught him with the reins in his hands. He was so embarrassed and guilt-stricken he didn’t think to question what the gunslinger was up to back there.

  A few minutes later, Jed was back in the driving seat. Willoughby hadn’t moved.

  “I can recommend the tree,” Jed said out of the side of his mouth.

  “I can wait,” Willoughby muttered.

  Belle returned with a clean face and a determined expression.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “Me and my sister have been apart long enough.”

  ***

  The ranches fell away as the wagon crested a hill and suddenly, as if from nowhere, the great city of Wheelhub lay ahead. Gasps escaped Belle and Willoughby when they saw the scale of the place. The outskirts were of familiar makeup, wooden, high-fronted buildings such as can be found in Tarnation and every other settlement on Vultures’ Moon, but these were more recent additions to the metropolis. The closer they got, the nature and design of the structures changed. Wood was replaced by metal, varnish by paint, angles by curves.

  Willoughby craned his head as they passed underneath a tall arch that stretched from the suburbs and away into the middle. The arch was smooth and white, gleaming in the sun, and seemed to be made from a single piece of - well, Willoughby couldn’t name the material. He was tempted to say bone or tooth enamel.

  There were several of these arches all convening at the city centre, like the legs of a colossal spider - Willoughby shuddered.

  “Like the spokes of a wheel,” Belle marvelled. “And the centre is the hub.”

  “Makes sense,” said Willoughby, deciding he preferred Belle’s description.

  The roads were wide and devoid of mud, ruts and the other detritus you always get with horse-drawn transport. The storefronts were in good repair and the streets were teeming with well-dressed folk all going about their business.

  But something was not quite right.

  “It’s quiet,” Belle observed. “Nobody ain’t saying nothing.”

  She was right. The citizens of Wheelhub weren’t interacting. Even a simple business transaction like the purchase of an apple from a roadside stall was carried out in silence.

  For the most part, the coloured wagon went by unnoticed. A few individuals stopped and stared but then shook their heads, dismissing the phenomenon and then carrying on with their lives.

  “I don’t like it,” Belle shifted a little closer to Jed. “It ain’t right.”

  “Where will your sister be, Miss Belle?” Willoughby asked. He’d just tipped his hat to a pretty lady walking a long-haired pooch. The woman had just stared back, unblinking, as the wagon passed by. She was probably still staring after them, for all Willoughby could tell.

  “I don’t rightly know,” Belle admitted. “All I know is she’s in trouble. This man, this Plisp fellow -”

  Jed cleared his throat pointedly. Around them, faces had perked up at the mention of the name.

  “This...man,” Belle said carefully, “he’s got her somewhere. Who knows what he’s doing to her or making her do or...” Her voice caught in her throat. “I’m reliant on Jed to be able to find her. You’ve been here before, ain’t you, Jed? Jed?”

  Jed grunted
.

  He had been to Wheelhub before - he knew that as well as he knew his own name - but he couldn’t for the life of him recall anything about that previous visit.

  “So what’s your next move, Jed?” Willoughby tried to contain his impatience: he was minutes away from having his wagon restored to him.

  “Horse needs stabling,” Jed gave a shrug. “Rest of us can carry on on foot.”

  Willoughby couldn’t disagree with the practicalities.

  “I’ll stay with the wagon,” he suggested as though it was a great personal sacrifice.

  “I think we should all stick together!” countered Belle. “Jed?”

  “Let the boy do as he sees fit,” Jed pulled up outside a stable. “One less target.”

  Willoughby reddened.

  “Still a lot of valuable stock on board,” he said defensively.

  “Not anymore,” said Jed. “I dropped the rest off back at that ranch. Your wagon’ll be secure in a lock-up and the horse’ll be cared for here. Deserves a rest, don’t you think?”

  Willoughby was astounded.

  “You cain’t do that!” he spluttered. “That stuff ain’t yours!”

  “Ain’t yours neither,” Belle pointed out. “I’d prefer it if’n you came with me - with us, I mean.”

  She put her hand on his arm. Willoughby looked at it as a way of keeping his red face averted from her eyes.

  “For me?”

  Willoughby murmured his reply. “Okay, Miss Belle.”

  Belle clapped her hands. She planted a kiss on his forehead then turned to Jed. She was about to ask him to reassure her that he knew what he was doing but one look at that strong, handsome face told her not to question him. She sent him a smile instead.

  With Jed on our side, Belle reflected, Lilimae is as good as saved.

  ***

  With the horse comfortably stabled and the wagon under lock and key in a storage facility, Jed, Belle and Willoughby looked up and down the wide thoroughfare. The eerie quiet was like a cloud over the populace, made stranger by the general appearance of busyness and bustle.