Six Guns Straight From Hell - Tales Of Horror And Dark Fantasy From The Weird Weird West (4 page)

Henri grimaced. “Oh no! Mr. Allison, please take that thing away. You will upset all my customers.”

“
Really? Well, what do you think, Charlie?” Allison turned to the head.

Charles Kennedy’s head did not respond. In fact, it sat there glassy eyed and oozing on Henri’s counter top like so much rotting meat in the New Mexico night. A fly buzzed in and landed on its nose.

Clay drew his pistol. “Talk you son of a bitch,” he said then cocked back the hammer and put the barrel between the eyes of the severed head.

“
Please Mr. Allison! Think of the mess it would make.”

A man behind Allison began to laugh. Clay narrowed his eyes and turned. A miner dressed in mud-stained clothes sat nearby, giggling hysterically and slapping his knee.

“
That’s a good one for sure, Mr. Allison. That’s the funniest thing you done since you danced naked on the bar with the red ribbon on your pecker.” The man was practically in tears he was laughing so hard.

Clay Allison was not laughing; in fact he wasn’t even smiling; a fact that appeared to slowly begin to dawn on the miner.

“
You calling me a liar?” Clay said—his words icy and clear. “You saying this head don’t talk?”

The man paled. “No, Clay—Mr. Allison, Sir, that aint what I meant at all. I Just….”

“
No man calls me a liar and walks away. That’s an insult to my honor, and I aim to get satisfaction.”

The other customers began to clear that end of the room. Henri muttered a few curses in French, grabbed some of the more expensive bottles from the bar and also moved to a safer distance.

The man raised his hands in the air. “Mr. Allison, I meant no disrespect, Sir. I’m sorry I. ….”

Clay waved the gun around the room, but kept his steely eyes on the petrified miner. “Everybody heard this man say I was lying. Now I’m calling him out, fair and square.”

Allison made a big pantomime show of holstering his pistol, then he glanced back at Henri and the rest of the cringing crowd.

At that instant, the miner rose from his chair and made a break for the front door. Allison drew fast as hand of God and shot the man in the back.

Allison looked at the crowd, steely eyed. “You saw him. He was trying to get the drop on me!”

Heads nodded in quick succession, a single voice said “Y-y-yes sir, Mr. Allison, it was surely self defense.”

“
Damn right!” Allison preened. “Now, anybody else want to say this here head don't talk?”

“
No, no,” came the nervous mutter of the crowd, along with “Lord save us” and one brave soul in the rear piped in: “I can hear it now. Is that Camptown Races it's a'singin'?” Luckily, this smoothed Allison's feathers for he turned to Henri, tipped back the last of his drink, followed by Charlie's, then shoved the head roughly back into the burlap sack. He stalked out of the saloon making sure to knock the sides of the sack against each chair and flinching customer as he passed.

Henri could hardly wait until Allison swept grandly out the door to heave a sigh of relief. He mopped down the bar with clean, soapy water, paying special attention to the spot where the head had sat.

Allison tossed the sack roughly over the saddle horn.

“
Ow!” cried Charlie's head, “Whadya go an' do that for?”

“
That was for making me look the fool in front of Henri and half the town. I have a mind to dump your sorry head in the nearest latrine! Why didn't you talk in there? We could'a made some good money,” said Allison.

“
I'm a little shy in front of large groups. Besides, only special people can hear me—people who might just make a whole lot more money by doin' a man a favor instead of sellin' looks at a talking head for a nickel apiece. You're a special man Allison, and even though it were you and your posse what did me in, I'll tell you where all my money and gold is stashed. All you gotta do is take me to where my body is. You owe me at least that anyway.” said Charlie's head.

“
I don't believe I owe you a thing, you murderous man-eating dog. But as I am a compassionate fellow and believe if a man is to go to his eternal rest he should do it with all his pieces in the same place. I'll help you to reunite with your body. And I'll take the gold too, seeing as how I'm going to be doing all of your walking for you.”

The body wan’t at the dump here he’d directed Kennedy's body to be taken. From the looks of things, blood, drag marks and other signs, it had been there and then taken away again by person’s unknown. Some damned goody-two-shoes no doubt. Allison was getting might irritated, and was feeling a bit peculiar as he rode and not just the regular peculiar one might feel when following the directions of an ill-natured, foul tempered, severed head. This was more the feeling one got when sensing something just outside his line of sight and too quiet to recognize. Misty moving visions, shadows on the periphery and veiled whispers were carried on the breeze. There were some mighty powerful spiritual forces at work he didn't understand. But he did understand the power of gold. And, one way or another, this head in a gunny sack was gonna give up the loot.

He pulled up alongside the ruts made by Kennedy's body being dragged away.

“
All right, Charlie, what's this all about?” Allison peered into the sack.

“
How the Hell should I know? I've been here with you the whole time. Unless...yes! Rosa! I told you she was a witch! I bet she done dragged off my body to use in one of her spells,” said Kennedy.

“
You'd best have some way of finding out where your body is and how close we are to it. I'm getting a mite perturbed and would just as soon leave you to the coyotes and go have myself a drink than spend any more time wandering around in the dark like a damned ‘possum,” said Allison.

“
I only have a vague sense. I think it might be this way,” said Kennedy as he jiggled in the sack toward the south. “Yes, I can feel it. But hurry, I got a bad feeling she is doing something evil.”

Allison sighed in disgust and spurred his horse onward. He’d ridden about an hour and had about convinced himself it was folly, when something changed in the air. At about half a mile towards a dense tree line, it seemed the whispering in his mind was growing louder and the hair on his neck beginning to rise. Perhaps it was the same strange force drawing Kennedy.

“
We're almost there,” said the severed head.

The whispers grew and more shadows darted crazily just out of sight. No matter how fast Clay turned his head, he always missed what it was. His horse began to spook. It began crowhopping from side to side and finally stopping, refusing to go any further. He dismounted and took the sack, hefted it over his shoulder like Saint Nicolas and kept walking south. Kennedy's head began to jiggle excitedly.

“
All right, Head,” Allison said “it looks like we've got to hoof it from here. Let me remind you again, if you're somehow leading me on like a fool I will make you very sorry you were ever born. Or spawned. Or however devils like you come to be.”

“
You mean you haven't already? Ow!” yelled Kennedy as Allison 'accidentally' switched shoulders to carry him and bumped the head against a particularly rough tree. Moaning he continued, “All right. I understand.”

The wind picked up, swirling eddies in the dust around Allison's boots. For the first time in his life, Allison seriously considered he might be dealing with spirits not of an alcoholic nature. And speaking of, he sure could use a good stiff drink right about then. As soon as this was over, he would walk into Henri's and drink until he ran out of money or passed out. The wind picked up and the night became even darker. Allison came over a ridge and stood at the top of the rise looking down on a circular clearing surrounded by small trees. In the center was freshly dug earth with a suspiciously large man-shaped lump.

“
It's here! It's here!” Kennedy's head bucked and wiggled in the sack, which suddenly caused it to split. The head hit the ground with a thud. The head began to drag along with a side-winding motion using its tongue and natural momentum to roll.

Allison gaped at Kennedy's hasty departure. “See here, you ornery cuss! Don't you try to get out of showing me where your treasure is hid!”

The head entered the circle of scrub brush and the greenery burst into flame like torches made by Mother Nature herself. Allison flinched and nearly wet himself, something he hadn't done while sober since he was a tiny lad.

“
Here, Clay! Dig here. Hurry if you want the treasure!” Kennedy rasped, his tongue coated with drying dirt.

As Clay walked into the circle, a dark swarm descended, as if a dense cloud of flies. The blackness raced around the circle, round and past Allison almost seemed to try to push him away from the treasure. He dropped to his knees and began to dig in the loose soil with his hands.

Allison found a gold nugget the size of an aggie marble. Then a cold hand emerged from the dirt and snapped tight on Allison's throat and stopped him in mid-shriek. He toppled backward, trying to get away. This succeeded in pulling the rest of Kennedy's deceased yet animated corpse out of the ground.

The black swarm descended nearby. The buzzing quieted and the mass coalesced into a figure. It was Rosa, Kennedy's half-Ute wife, she of the tear stained cheeks and the undying but never displayed gratitude.

“
I told you she was a witch!” screamed Kennedy's head.

“
At least I am not a demon who kills for sport. A demon who kills for gold. A demon who devours its own young!” spat Rosa.

“
Well, let me just tell you, Mr. Allison,” said Kennedy as his body grasped his head from the ground and put it back in its proper place. As the severed parts touch, an unholy light fused them together. “The boy tasted the best.”

Kennedy stood up and stretched his battered body, twisting the flesh to change into a new shape of his own, a horrible amalgam of man and demon, lizard and snake. His evil smile widened, splitting the frail human skin of his cheeks as the outgrowing rows of jagged teeth stretched back, impossibly, to nearly the back of his head. He leaned in close to Allison and whispered in his ear on fetid breath “Yesss.... the boy tasted best!”

Clay wet himself, but he never admitted it to any man.

“
Senor!” Rosa yelled wildly, vying for Allison's attention with his shock. “The blood of the victims cries out for vengeance. Use their power!” Rosa shouted. “We can kill him but you have to get the gold!”

Allison, being fond of his hide, snapped out of his daze. He looked at the gold nugget which began to melt in his hand, like warm butter, changing from shiny gold to blood red in color. As much as he hated giving it up, Allison saw no other choice. He threw the bloody nugget at Kennedy and began to scrabble around for more and more. Each time he found something, a nugget, coin or watch, it changed in his hands from gold to blood.

Each object stuck to Kennedy like tar, then ran over its skin like a living thing. Kennedy began to scream and tried to remove the red substance like he’d been splashed with Hellfire itself. Allison kept digging, scrambling for all he could find. Finally, he threw the last of it, a silver framed picture of a little girl. This struck the demon squarely in the face, the frame became a melted blood colored patch, forming a seal over the slitted eyes and terrible mouth.

The thing which called itself Charlie Kennedy fell and lay rolling on the ground in agony.

Rosa turned to Allison. “You are almost as bad as him. But leave the circle now and you may survive a while longer. Leave now!”

Allison quickly complied, falling over himself as he rushed away. Rosa, staying within the inner ring proceeded to spread something from a sack which looked like rock salt all around the outer edge. She stood next to Kennedy’s struggling, prone form. “I must make this right,” she said softly.

The night darkened suddenly as the flaming brush began to burn a cold black fire. This blinded Allison momentarily as he tried to focus on what was now happening before him. Moaning came from inside the circle. The demon Kennedy cursed Rosa as best as it could and Rosa chanted back at the demon in what sounded like her own native Ute at first, then languages unrecognized by Allison. The bloody gold covering the demon’s body began to pulsate.

“
Justice!” Rosa screamed at Kennedy. “The spirits are having their revenge. You spilled their blood for their gold, it is fitting.”

Allison watched as she took more of the substance from the bag and began to pour it over the demon. The bloody gold faded along with the flesh of the demon. The corpse began to whither until there was nothing left but a dried husk, a paper thin skin like a dead locust wing.

Rosa was soon surrounded by ghostly forms, more than Allison could count. She took a second sack out of her pocket and scattered what looked like yellow cornmeal around and tossed it into the air. The spirits glided through the meal, dove and flitted like happy birds on a fine spring day.