Chapter

September 1873, Outside Nagadoches Texas

“Did you see the way the head exploded on that old man?” laughed Rattlesnake Jack as he lifted a dirt covered whiskey bottle to his lips. He drank in sort rapid bursts as he giggled with glee.
“You killed him too fast.” Answered Nine-Fingered John. He gestured with his “claw” where he had replaced his severed forefinger with a hook bladed knife. “I like to play with ‘em awhile first. How about you, Nathan?”
Nathan Payne crouched near the fire and stirred the embers with a stick before taking the whiskey bottle from Rattlesnake.
“I think you’re both fucked up sonsabitches.” Nathan said. “I got the strongbox from the coach man. That’s all the matters. All of the rest of that shit is just you dubs being crazy.”
Nathan Payne, like his two friends was a tall Texan. He was broader than his friends as if his muscles had been formed and hardened by manual labor. None of the band dressed in any finery, but Nathan’s clothes were in the best repair and he wore a long grey overcoat that he had worn since serving with Longstreet in the War. Another relic of the war was a livid scar down Nathan’s face that reminded him of his days in the 1st Corps anytime he saw his own reflection. When Nathan stood to move away from the fire, his coat revealed the Colt Army strapped to his side. On the other side of his belt was a bowie knife. Nathan took a drink of the whiskey bottle and moved away from the fire into the shadows.
“Fuck you, Payne.” Said Rattlesnake. “You were supposed to be a hard man. You getting girly on us? You ain’t squeamish are you?”
Nathan appeared suddenly behind Rattlesnake Jack. The bowie knife was out now. Nathan’s left arm encircled Rattlesnake’s neck and his right held the point of the blade an inch from Rattlesnake’s right eye.
“Squeamish, Jack?” Nathan asked. “I’m not sure what you fuckin’ mean. If it weren’t for me, both of you ladies would have been gunned down ten times over, so when it comes to a straight up fight, you are the one who hasn’t pulled their weight. If you mean in torturing and doing bad things to folks…well, I seen and done things you ain’t even dreamed of Rattlesnake. You ever want to see some of that shit, you let me know. We could start right here. Would you like that?
When Rattlesnake answered, there was a distinct quiver in his voice, “I wouldn’t like that a’tall, Nate. I prefer just to go back to our conversation.”
“I don’t know about that, Jack.” Nathan said. “You got my blood up now. I kinda feel, invigorated at the thought of carvin’ on you a little. It would make use real close, you know. Like brothers or something. When you go through somethin’ like that, it leaves its mark. Figurative and literal. What say we just cut a little. Maybe lose another finger, or an eye. Maybe cut on your credentials a little and hear you squawk.”
Nathan’s bowie knife drifted below Rattlesnake’s belt and the point rested against Rattlesnake’s genitals. Rattlesnake gulped, “Nathan, I was just funning with you. I didn’t mean to offend. Let’s call it off. What do you say?”
“Allright with me, Jack.” Nathan said. “This time.”
Nathan released Rattlesnake Jack and stood. He slid the Bowie Knife back into his belt. “You ever call me girly again though, you son of a Mexican whore, and I’ll do shit to you that will have you begging for death, you got that?”
“You bet, Nathan.” Rattlesnake said.
Nathan turned and faded back into the shadows.
“Shit.” Nine Fingered John said. “How do you sleep with that guy around?”
Rattlesnake’s eyes were closed and he was taking deep breaths. “I haven’t slept in the three years I rode with him.”
“Why not skin out then?” John asked.
“Cause the things he talked about just now…” Rattlesnake said. “That’s a goddamned cakewalk compared to what he does with deserters.”
Both men went back to staring at the soft glow of their fire, when suddenly footsteps nearby startled them both. Rattlesnake jumped up and almost stumbled into the fire.
His hand was on his gun instantly. A match flared to life in the shadows revealing a face that was hideously scarred. The match lit a cigarette as the man smiled at Jack with his ruined mouth.
“Shit, Cinder.” Rattlesnake said. “You scared me out of my skin.”
Cinder has been burned over half of his body. His skin was puckered and twisted. His only hair was ragged tufts in various places on his scalp. One eye was the milky white that told others it had died as a result of whatever scarred the man. He moved into the firelight.
“Fuck you, Rattlesnake.” Cinder said, his voice harsh and coarse. “You are too fucking nervous. The Kid is on watch.”
“Yeah?” Rattlesnake said. “Well, where the fuck is he? didn’t his watch end a while back?”
“How should I know.” Cinder said. “I’ve been restin’ so I can take next watch.”
“Maybe we should go find him.” Nine Fingered John said.
There was a sudden rustling in the trees and the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Nope.” Rattlesnake said. “Here he comes now.”
A thin figure emerged into the firelight, dressed in black and wearing a two-gun rig, tied down in the style of a gunhand. The younger man was handsome with dark features. He was a young man, perhaps twenty years old. He staggered into camp as if drunk. All three outlaws were on their feet instantly as the Kid muttered soundlessly.
“Kid.” Rattlesnake said. “You okay?”
The Kid moved further into the firelight and all the men cursed and drew their pistols. Rattlesnake Jack doubled over and emptied the contents of his stomach in a long vomit.
The Kid had no arms. Instead, there were only bloody stumps where his arms had been. He staggered and pitched forward where Cinder caught him. “Shit. His stomach’s been torn open too. Look at this.”
Cinder pointed to a single entrails that hung from the Kid’s belly and disappeared back into the darkness. The kid had been trailing his own intestines for some distance.
“What did this? Coyotes?” Nine Fingered John asked.
“No.” said Nathan Payne as he emerged from the darkness and knelt by the kid. “A man did this. Or men. His arms were snatched off, and this gut trick is an old Indian torture. Someone fucked the kid up bad.”
“Who did this to you, Kid?” Cinder asked.
The Kid tried to answer, but it came out a garbled and muted grunt.
“They cut out his tongue.” Nathan said. “Get your weapons.”
“What about the kid?” Rattlesnake said as he wiped at the vomit on his lips.
“Get your goddamned weapons unless you want to end up just like him!” Nathan said.
As he said this, an arm -one of the Kid’s- flew into the firelight and landed in the fire.
“Shit!” said Cinder as he stared at the arm flaring to life. Meanwhile, Nathan turned and fired his pistol in the direction that the arm had come from. Jack and John followed suit. Finally, Cinder drew Winchester rifle and began firing in the same direction.
After several seconds and about forty rounds, the group stopped firing. Nathan held up a hand. “Now just listen for a second.”
As they all fell silent, they could hear running feet.
“Missed the bastard.” Said Cinder.
“Sounds like just one.” Jack said.
“One man did that to the Kid?” Nine Fingered John whispered.
“Maybe we got the other ones.” Said Cinder.
“Look out!” yelled Nathan as he spun in Cinder’s direction.
Before Cinder could move, a massive mining pick burst through his midsection like a lance. His back arched almost in two from the impact as he cried out like a young child. He fell to the side and Nathan and the others saw a cloaked figure hurtling towards them. The man was massive. He was taller than Nathan’s six foot three inches and looked to be as twice as broad as Nathan was to a typical figure. Nathan thumbed back the hammer of his colt and pulled the trigger. It fell on an empty chamber. He had exhausted his ammunition firing into the darkness.
Meanwhile, the cloaked figure reached out with a powerful left arm and jammed a railroad spike through Rattlesnake’s throat. Rattlesnake fell to his knees coughing and chocking on his own blood and the metal intrusion into his larynx. Nine Fingered John turned to run. And the same arm caught him around the neck and snapped his neck like a farmer killing a chicken for supper.
Nathan backpedaled away from the massive figure, clawing for his bowie knife. When the figure turned towards him, Nathan managed to free the knife and plunge it into the man’s chest. It felt like he was stabbing a bull. It was all hard muscle and tough skin. The figure didn’t even react. The left arm snaked out and caught Nathan around the throat, lifting him as effortlessly as he Nathan might lift a child. Nathan coughed and kicked feebly at the creature, knowing his time was at an end. As the figure lifted him, the cloak fell away and Nathan caught his first good luck at his assailant.
The figure was horribly deformed. He had a humped back, else he would have stood even taller. One arm, the one around Nathan’s throat was heavily muscled and broad. The other was a shriveled and pallid affair, like the arm of a diseased child. The most shocking feature, besides them man’s bullish strength was the fact that he had a second malformed head the seemed to grow from the side of his broad neck. The smaller head was bald and misshapen, but moved with some intent and there was a malicious glee in its green eyes. What Nathan had taken to be the man’s only head was broad and heavy, bald and with teeth filed down to points. The eyes were an icy, cold blue, but there was a lack of interest in this face. The creature just looked on impassively as if the malicious smaller head with its green eyes were directing the killing.