Last Train from Perdition

Six.

“You can’t be tellin’ me what to do, fella!” Tabbers fired back. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the man trying to keep you and everyone else here alive tonight. When you get your rifles loaded, come back to the passenger car. Keep your heads on swivels and move fast.” Lawson told Gantt, “Come with me,” and the conductor did not hesitate.

Back in the passenger car and the welcome yellow light of the oil lamps, the first voice upraised belonged to Johnny Rebinaux. “Why we stopped, bossman? Bandits or Injuns?”

“What’s going on, Lawson?” Mathias dared asked.

Reverend Easterly had returned to his seat and silently watched as Lawson walked along the aisle to check on Blue. “She was making a whimpering sound a minute ago,” Ann told him. “Tried to get her hands on the wound, but I kept them down. She’s out again, it looks like.” Ann’s fierce black eyes asked the question first, then her voice, speaking quietly: “They’re here?”

That word again. “Yes.”

“Trevor, how did they find us?”

“They tracked us, in their way. Maybe they had a human spy watching us. Could be it’s like some telegraph system that ordinary humans can’t fathom. And I can’t fathom it either…not yet.”

“Is something wrong with the engine, Mr. Lawson?” Eric asked.

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” said Gantt, who hung his lantern up on a nail for the moment. The stricken expression on Gantt’s face told Lawson the conductor still didn’t know what to make of the headlamp being broken out. “The rail’s blocked. There’s been a rockslide.”

“Ha!” Rebinaux’s ugly grin widened. “Deuce, listen to me! We can get out of this, if we’ve a mind to! Keene, you up for it?”

“For what?” Presco asked. He had his face pressed against a window’s glass trying to see past the coal tender and engine, but the snow and the night made it impossible. “Gettin’ shot dead right here or froze to death out in that weather? We ain’t got a baby’s chance in Hell!”

“A baby wouldn’t be in Hell, ya jackass!” Rebinaux snarled. “A baby’s born without sin, so why’s a baby gonna be in Hell? Yeah, I always figured there was some yellow on that belly!”

Presco’s fuse had finally been lit. He stood up and lumbered like an angry bear into the aisle. “Fine talk you’re doin’, Johnny!” he shouted in a voice that sounded like a room full of saws working rusted metal. “And you with one hand! You can’t do nothin’!”

“I can kick you where you used to have balls!” Rebinaux hollered back, but he made no move to give action to that threat.

“Settle down!” Lawson took a few paces forward to get between them if he needed to, but he quickly saw that Rebinaux’s courage was in trying to get others to risk their skins for him. “Take it easy, Presco. Nobody’s going anywhere right now.”

“A baby in Hell!” Rebinaux wasn’t done needling his ex-partner. “That’s just plain dumb!” He snorted as if to get the smell of disgust out of his nostrils.

“Lawson, what did you mean out there?” Gantt came forward along the aisle. “About not comin’ back? You think you know somethin’ we don’t?”

What to tell them? the vampire asked himself. He was thirsty, his nerves on edge, the ichor sluggish in his body. In his bag there were two more bottles of cattle blood, but those were poor substitutes for the rich feast that flowed in a human’s veins. His last taste of that had been nearly two months ago, from the throat of a derelict in a tarpaper shack on the banks of the Mississippi. He had left the man alive, but barely. Still…without human blood for more than three months he became a true shade between vampire and man, a scrabbling wretch desperate to feed and gnawed by the knowledge that each feeding from humans took him closer to the edge of the abyss.

They were waiting for him to speak. What to tell them?

There was the sound of boots on the car’s front platform. The door opened and from the snow and wind came the black fireman called Rooster. He was likely twenty-four or so, of medium-height and slim build except for a broad back and a formidable set of shoulders. He had a high-cheekboned face with a small, neatly-trimmed goatee and deep-set, cautious eyes. He was wearing a gray woolen coat, a black cap and black gloves and he carried a Winchester rifle.

“Mr. Tabberson didn’t come back,” Rooster said, as the snow blew around him from the open door. He realized he was letting winter destroy the warmth of the car, so he closed the door behind him. “Mr. Tabberson,” he repeated, as snow melted on his shoulders and the brim of his cap. “He went out to them rocks to see. I called him, but he didn’t give an answer.”

“Why didn’t you go help him?” Gantt demanded. “Tabbers maybe fell down, hurt himself.”

“I was gonna, but…this fella said to come here after we loaded the rifles. I said, ‘Come on, Mr. Tabberson’, but he was like… ‘Ain’t nobody bossin’ me on my own train’. So he told me to stay there in the cab, and he took a lamp. I said he shouldn’t oughta go, ’cause what had happened to that headlight? He said the tin box must’ve heated up too fast and the cold broke the glass, and then he went on. After awhile I called him. I used the speakin’ trumpet, so he could hear over that wind, but he didn’t come back. I was hopin’…a couple of you fellas, and me…we’ll go see if he’s all right.”

“He’s not,” said Lawson.

“Sir?”

“Did he take a rifle?”

“He did.”

“Did you hear any shots?”

“No sir…all that wind…but…” Rooster frowned. “What would he be shootin’ at out there?”

“I don’t care what you say, Lawson.” Gantt lifted the lantern off its nail. “I’m goin’ out there to help him, if he needs it. And he must, ’cause Tabbers is a tough piece a’ leather.”

“What’s this about the headlight?” Eric asked. “It broke?”

“Happens sometimes. Ain’t nothin’.”

“You know it didn’t shatter on its own,” said Lawson. “That wasn’t just to put out the light. It was a message.”

“Do tell!”

“They’re telling us they’re in control.”

“They? Who? Indians? The Sioux have cleared out around here! They’ve—”

“You’ll wish they were only Indians on the warpath.”

“Who, then?”

Again…what to tell them? How to make them understand? Lawson realized that whatever he told them, they were going to think him utterly insane. He looked to Ann for help, but she shook her head because at the moment she knew they’d never believe either of them.

“I think,” Eli Easterly suddenly spoke up, “that Mr. Lawson has been dabbling in something…shall we say…unholy, and it has come back to bite him.”

“What are you jabberin’ about?” There was now a twang of fear in the Southern drawl.

“Look at him. Take a good long look. How different he appears from most men. And I noted with interest that he would not dare to touch my crucifix.” Easterly stood up into the aisle. “I have seen much in this life. I have known much darkness myself. Therefore I have learned to recognize it.” He aimed a finger at the vampire. “This so-called man among us, friends, can only be one thing: a warlock.”

“A warwhat?” Presco asked.

“A male witch,” Easterly clarified. “Travelling with a female witch, but she’s not completely sold to the Devil because she could touch the Cross. I had a strange feeling about this man the first time I laid eyes on him. He read my mind and he exudes evil. Can’t you feel it, in this car?”

“Yes!” Mathias had nearly shouted it. “Hell, yes! I’ve been feeling it!”

“Oh for God’s sake!” said Gantt. “There ain’t no such thing as witches!”

“I say this creature before us is…well, just look at him! And if he’s afraid of something out there that’s blocked the track, then you know what that must be? Either one of two things: a rival witch, as dark-souled as himself and his familiar, or…the vengeance and pure white justice of Heaven.”

Lawson managed a small, mirthless laugh.

“We’re making him nervous, do you see that?” The reverend’s finger of accusation was still aimed at Lawson. “He can’t bear the light. I noted also—being in the hotel with him and the woman—he never came out during the day. She was about, but not he. Oh, no…the light of truth cannot be borne by this creature.” Slowly, Easterly’s hand fell to his side. “Gentlemen, we are in the presence of an abomination before our Holy Father.”

“I think he’s just an asshole, m’self!” Rebinaux said.

“Reverend Easterly,” Lawson said in a quiet, restrained voice, “you have become…let me say…unsettled by the life you’ve led. May I call you Eli?” He let that hang for a few seconds. “I am sorry you’ve lost your only son, Eli. A bullet in the back and a grave in a wretched field. It’s been difficult for you, I know. Especially since you sent so many men to their own wretched graves by bullets in the back.” He watched as the blood—what paltry amount there was in the man’s body—drained from Easterly’s face and left him as pale as a vampire’s buttocks. “I believe,” Lawson continued in the same quiet tone, “that there’s a man of good worth still inside you, but he’s been hiding for a long time under a bottle and a Bible. Sometimes both at once. I am no warlock, sir, nor is Ann a witch. Though it is true, I have read your mind and I have the ability to read the mind of every man on this train. I would like for you to consider me in our present condition a…” He paused in thought of what his next words would be. Then he recalled something he’d said to Eric just a little while ago. Something he’d said he was not, and now he must recant.

“Consider me your guardian angel,” he said, speaking now to all of them. “I’m the best chance you have of…as Mr. Mathias said to me earlier this evening…seeing another sunrise.” He looked toward where Blue lay, and his gut twisted…not now for the thirst for her blood, for that was a constant, but for the truth that she would certainly die if action was not taken.

What was she to him? What was anyone in this car to him, but an opportunity to feed, to grow stronger, to revel in his path toward godhood?

“I am Trevor Lawson,” he said to the floorboards, and to the silence that was cut only by the wind and to the vampire the sound of beating hearts and lifeblood flowing. “I was born in Alabama. I have…I had a wife and daughter. I fought in the war, at Shiloh. I am a man. I am a man. I am a man.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. “I swear…that’s all I want to be.”

When he lifted his head he looked directly at the conductor. “I’ll go with you to find Tabbers, but for the sake of your life, stay close to me.”

“I’ll go,” Rooster offered. “Mr. Tabberson been a very good man, I owe him plenty.”

“I’ll go too,” Eric said, but Lawson waved him away. They had not come so far to lose the young man to what lurked out there waiting.

“Load up with silver,” Lawson told Ann. “Save your bullets and keep watch on that back door.” Then, to the others, “I presume no one will be stupid enough to try to leave this car.” He fired a red gleam at the reverend. “Now would be a good time for prayer, concentrating on your own soul,” he said. “All right, let’s go.”

Lawson led the way, with Gantt and his lantern following and Rooster right behind with his rifle. Lawson had the sensation that the rifle was trained at his back most of the way. As they got up alongside the engine, Lawson looked back and told Rooster, “I’m drawing a pistol,” so no nervous finger jerked on a Winchester trigger. He smoothly drew the Colt with the grip of yellowed bone. Six silver slugs would finish off six members of the Dark Society, if he was lucky.

If.

They walked along the track, into the wind and snow. Already the pile of boulders and smaller rocks looked to be frozen together. Gantt’s light picked out the prints of Tabbers’ size-twelve boots, heading around to the right side of the obstruction. A shift of the lantern further to the right showed a rocky decline stubbled with gnarled pine trees, junipers, aspens and a ground covering of sagebrush and greasewood shrubs. Lawson figured this was a perfect place for an ambush, be it from bandits, Indians or other.

“Tabbers!” Gantt shouted. “Tabbers, answer up!”

“Mr. Tabberson!” Rooster called. “Where are you?”

“Don’t go any further,” Lawson advised when Gantt started to walk around the blockage, and the conductor obeyed without question.

“Tabbers!” Gantt lifted the lantern and swung it back and forth. “We’re here, Jack! Answer us!”

Lawson caught a movement to the left, over where the rugged cliffs started to rise. Then there was a movement to the right, down among the pines and the thicket. No one else could have seen these flashes of motion but he, for he knew they were creatures moving at rapid speed from one hiding-place to another. How many had gathered here? His senses told him forty…fifty or more…and not all were of human shape.

He heard a sound at the center of the wind.

“Help…help me…help…”

It was coming from further down the embankment, in amid the underbrush.

“Help…help…”

A pitiful cry, nearly a sob of terror and agony.

“Hear that?” Rooster obviously had good ears as well as good eyes. “Comin’ from down there!” He raised his voice to a ragged shout: “Mr. Tabberson! Where are you?”

“Help…please…help…”

“I hear him!” said Gantt. He called out, “Jack, are you hurt?”

The cry for help faded. The wind took it, and it was gone.

“Maybe he’s got a broke leg! Took a tumble, that coulda busted his leg!” Rooster was taking measure of a way down the embankment without breaking his own bones. “I gotta get to him!”

“Listen to me!” Lawson put a hand on Rooster’s coat collar before the man could start down and held him in an iron grip. “You don’t know what’s down there! Tabbers is finished. Even if they let you get close to him, you wouldn’t find him…but they’d have you!”

“Lemme go! Hear me? I said I gotta—”

Rooster pulled to get loose; he was strong, but to the vampire it was like restraining an infant. “You’re not going. Neither of you are. I told you…he’s finished.”

The cry started up again, only now it sounded further to the right and closer.

“Help me…please…help me…”

“They’re moving him. Come on, we’re getting back inside.”

“No sir! No sir!” Rooster tried to push Lawson away but it was like one man trying to move the biggest boulder on the track. He said fiercely, “Mr. Tabberson’s hurt and he needs help!”

“You can’t help him. I can’t either. Gantt, start back. You follow him. Go on!” In spite of the Winchester, he gave Rooster a shake when the fireman didn’t obey. “I’ll carry you if I have to! Or I’ll knock the hell out of you first! Move!”

“Help…Jesus…help me…”

And again the voice faded away.

The Winchester’s barrel went up under Lawson’s throat.

Rooster’s face was right up in the vampire’s, and if he saw anything fearsome at close range to that visage he did not flinch.

“I’ll move, Mister Alabama,” he said through gritted teeth as the snow whitened his cap. “For now, I won’t pull this trigger. But when we get inside there…I don’t care where you’re from, who you fought for or what the damned hell you are…you’re gonna tell everybody straight what you know to be true ’bout this. Are you hearin’ me?”

“I am. Now do what I’m telling you.”

Rooster peered down the embankment again. Once more Lawson thought the young man was going to try to go after Tabbers, but then the rifle’s barrel left Lawson’s throat and Rooster followed Gantt and his lantern back toward the locomotive and the passenger car.

The vampire gunfighter stood alone.

But he was not alone for very long.

He sensed rather than saw the movement behind him, and in a blur he whirled around with the Colt full of silver angels ready to fire.

“You don’t want to do that,” said the little boy who sat atop the biggest boulder.