Excerpt: The Outriders: A Fistful of Devils

Lobo sat before the fire, meditating as he always did at the end of the day. Matthias, The Blindman and Juanito were sitting nearby, doing whatever it was that they did after the evening meal. Lost in his thoughts, Lobo almost didn’t hear the distinctive dragging thump that came from just a little way out from their camp. He cracked one eye, looked at his companions, nodded ever so slightly, and then fractionally inclined his head towards his left. The Blindman and Matthias gave equally small nods in return.
Slowly, Lobo put his hand on the hilt of his sword and loosened it in its scabbard, at the same time as the others were slowly dropping their hands to the butts of guns, clearing them for the action that lay ahead. Without warning, shapes started exploding from the bush, one swinging a large and cumbersome axe at Lobo’s unprotected head. But Lobo was no longer there. A fast swish of metal, and the zombie had just enough time to watch the arm holding the axe drop to the ground before Lobo’s sword parted its head from its neck. The head dropped into the fire, followed by the rest of the body.
The fire sprang higher from the unnatural fuel, burning with a hellish green light, revealing the forms of no less than twenty more zombies. Firing at anything that moved, The Blindman and Juanito were making their usual form of joyously wholesale slaughter, Juanito with his repeating rifle, and The Blindman, grinning as he fired his two revolvers dry, reloaded, and sent another hail of bullets streaking towards the slowly shuffling zombies in front of him. Matthias was more reserved in his killing, as always. “May God forgive you for any sins that you may have committed in life, as well as in this unnatural unlife forced upon you by wicked men and practitioners of the black arts. Go in peace.” Matthias shot three zombies right through their heads, dispatching them, then making the sign of the cross with the still smoking gun.
As for the rest, they were falling under the blade of Lobo. Though he was still in human form, it was a very close thing. Whirling left and right, undead blood splashed everywhere, and decaying limbs flew through the air. A low growl was beginning to rumble in Lobo’s throat, and his eyes had started to glow with an unnatural red light. Within minutes, it was over and the night was still once again. Only pausing to wipe the blood from his sword, Lobo sat back down before the fire, threw fresh wood on the embers, and returned to his meditation.

From a hill not far away, hidden behind a scrub brush, a shadowy figure watched the action. “Not bad at all,” he muttered to himself as he put away the telescope he’d been using to watch the fight, “I can see you deserve your reputations. But your skill will not save you this time. Soon, you will meet me, and that will be the end for all of you. Though I think that you, ronin, will be last.” Moving silently as a shadow, the figure smiled slightly and slipped away. He still needed to hunt, and the night was waning quickly.

The next morning, as they were getting ready to continue on into the town of Thunder Pass, Juanito made an unfortunate discovery, which he told to The Blindman. “Gents, we have a problem,” he said.
“What would that be?” asked Matthias.
“Well, seems that in that little spot of excitement last night, one of our uninvited guests took it upon themselves to drain Johnson over there dry.”
Lobo and Matthias walked over to the tree they’d tied Mad Dog Johnson to the night before, and sure enough, he was dead. “Well,” said Lobo, “that is unfortunate. However, I don’t think it was the zombies. His skull is still intact, and there are only two small wounds in his neck. It was something else entirely that did this.”
“The work of a vampire,” Matthias agreed.
“So, then what do we do?” asked The Blindman.
“He will still be worth something, just not as much as we thought.” Replied Lobo, unsheathing his sword.
“Wait, just what the hell are you doing?” asked the Blindman.
“The only thing to do in this situation.” And without another word, Lobo’s katana blurred from its sheath and sliced off Johnson’s head.
“How are we going to explain that one, now?” grumbled The Blindman.
“We don’t have to explain it,” replied Matthias tiredly, “The bounty said dead or alive. Not ‘Dead or Alive and as undamaged as possible’. The only concern is that this evil man’s days of mayhem are over.”
“We will tell Sheriff Rogers the truth,” said Lobo, “He knows that we would not do this unless it was necessary.”
“That’s true, and he stopped asking us for explanations years ago. But I suppose that this means that we’re going to have to take another job once we hit town, isn’t it?” said The Blindman with a slight smirk.
“Well, yes since we will only be receiving about a third of what we thought now that the man is dead.”
“And here I was looking forward to a bit of a rest. Now this means that we’re gonna have to take another job pretty much right away. Is it too much to ask to be able to just sit on my ass and watch the world go by for a bit?”
“Idle hands do the Devil’s work, Blindman.”
“Yes, and I was looking forward to it, Matthias.”

A few hours later, Sheriff John Rogers sat behind his desk in the town jail of Hope Springs with his feet up, staring in disbelief at the headless corpse laid out on the table across the room. He sighed, pushed his hat higher up on his head and reached for the whiskey bottle on the corner of his desk. “I’m not complainin’, boys, really. Lord knows that scum was for the drop anyway, but tell me, did you really have to cut his damn head off like that? I mean how the hell are we gonna hang his ass when he ain’t got no damn head?”
“Why would you want to hang him anyway?” asked Lobo in some confusion, “The man is already dead.”
“Well of course he’s already dead. It’s just that seein’ a man like this actually get hung makes folks feel better fer some reason. It’s somethin’ of a comfort actually watchin’ the man make his exit. Now, we can’t do that. Oh, they’ll still be glad that he’s dead, but I can tell you right now fer nuthin’ that there are gonna be folk hollerin’ about the fact that they didn’t get to see him die.”
“You could put his head on a stake outside your office or something like that,” said The Blindman, “Tell people it was too dangerous to leave him alive, that he might have escaped or something.”
“Not bad, not bad,” said Sheriff Rogers, taking a slow sip of whiskey. Ah well, I owe you boys some money. Can’t pay as much since he’s dead, you know.”
“We are aware,” Matthias said.
“And if you boys are interested,” said the Sheriff, counting out bills from the safe behind his desk, “I’ve got another job needs doin’. But boys, I’d really be obliged if you could bring this one back breathin’.”
“That’s fine with us, Sheriff. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, we got a bounty just come in the other day on a real piece of trash known as Snakebite McGraw. He’s wanted for all the usual things. Bank robbin’, payroll hijacking, things like that. Word is he also got some big well to do rancher’s daughter pregnant. Like usual he’s dead or alive, but this time, I really, REALLY would appreciate it if you bring him in vertical.”
“We’ll see what we can do, Sheriff. Any idea where he might be?”
“No, and that’s the first part of the job. You’re gonna have to track Mr. McGraw down. He was here a couple weeks ago, but I’m sure he’s left town by now. Probably headed on to Purgatory Wells by now, maybe Diamondback Creek, hard to say.”
“We will look into it, Sheriff, and with God’s help, we’ll bring this villain to your good justice.” Said Matthias.
“I’d appreciate that, boys. I’d really appreciate that.”

“So, you are certain that it was, in fact, them?” Rennquist stood in the study of his mansion, staring out over the side of a mountain.
“Positive, I watched them slay 25 zombies in less than five minutes. There were four of them; three gunfighters and one man who used a sword. It could not have been anyone else other than Lobo Okamitoko, The Blindman, Juanito and Matthias the Black Mass. Unless you think there’s another group like them around.”
Rennquist turned to face the man clad all in black sitting in a chair across the room, “Then the question I have is why did you not end it then and there? I am not a patient man, Sakezuki. I want them dead, and I don’t want it to be old age that kills them. I want them dead now.”
“It wasn’t the right time. I need to study them further. I am not yet fully prepared, and I refuse to fight a battle with the likes of them unprepared. That way lies death. You know their reputations; they are far too skilled to be eliminated any other way. Besides, the next full moon is only days away. Even if I was able to deal with the others, only a fool would attack Lobo when his powers are at their greatest.”
“Very well. I will leave it to your judgment. However, I want this done. I’m paying you a great deal of money, Sakezuki. No mistakes, as there were on the Williamson affair.”
“There is no need to worry about that, Rennquist-san,” said Sakezuki, stiffening slightly, “This is a different situation entirely. Besides you know perfectly well that that was not my doing, rather the bumbling of your former agent.”
“Yes, and he died most painfully. It would be a shame for someone of your skills to die in a similar way,” said Rennquist evenly.
“That is also nothing for you to worry about. Good evening, Rennquist-san.” Sakezuki bowed and leapt out the window, catching a nearby tree branch, flipping into the air and sliding away down a hidden zip line into the valley below. Rennquist stood and watched for a few minutes. He had his doubts about the ninja’s ability to take down The Outriders. Still, there was a chance that he would succeed, and if that happened, Rennquist would be able to accelerate his plans once he had The Wolf’s Eye in his possession. It was worth the risk.

Lobo and company were sitting in the saloon across the street form the Sheriff’s office, contemplating their next assignment when it happened. A man at the bar that had been staring at them since they first walked in and sat down finally got up and staggered slightly across the room to stand in front of their table. “What the hell you freaks doin’ in here?” he asked drunkenly pointing at Lobo, “And why’d you bring the damn chink in here? Don’t you know that we don’t like their kind in here? Get him out.” Lobo ignored the insult, as he far too used to the way many people saw him. It didn’t matter. If it came down to a fight, Lobo knew for certain that this drunk would be beaten before the first blow was thrown. However, The Blindman didn’t have such a charitable view of the situation.
“Why don’t you just turn around right now and head on back to the bar? We ain’t bothered you, and we don’t mean to, unless you keep this up. Just go back to your drink and we’ll pretend that this never happened. Sound like a fair deal to you, hombre?”
“You. You’re that blind fella I’ve heard about. I heard that you was some kind of freak of nature, able to hit the fleas off a horse’s ass at 20 yards, even bein’ blind. Don’t know how you do that, but I reckon that I could take you.”
“No, junior, I don’t expect you could, but if you’re fool enough to try, then I’m more than willing to accommodate you. Shall we?” With that, The Blindman got up and walked towards the street. He paused at the door, turned back to the drunk and asked, “You coming? Or are you afraid of a helpless blind rascal like me?” That did it. Swearing to himself, the drunk followed. The Blindman stepped off the sidewalk and into the street, directly outside the saloon door. “Hope you don’t mind if I just stand right here, stranger, but I’d like to be as close as I can to my drink so I can get back to it after I’ve killed you.”
“I don’t care, blind man. Have it your way,” the drunk sneered and stomped off down the sidewalk before stepping into the street about twenty paces down the road.
“You ready?” asked The Blindman.
“Ready,” replied the drunk.
“DRAW!” With a blur of motion, The Blindman’s gun was suddenly in his hand, and within seconds, he had shot five times, missing every shot. The drunk started howling with laughter and said, “You gotta be kidding me! You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn from the inside! How the hell you stayed alive this long, I’ll never know, but it don’t matter, since now you die.” Pulling his own pistol, the drunk took a shot of his own, which hit The Blindman in the shoulder, causing him to spin completely around before he raised his own gun again and shot the drunk directly in the chest. Holstering his gun and walking forward, The Blindman squatted down beside the body of the drunk, who was having trouble breathing at this point, on account of the gaping hole in his back.
“Those first five shots where just to give the audience a bit more of a show. I wanted you to think that you could take your time, because it’s so much more satisfying this way. Besides, I also wanted you to be able to look me in the eyes as you died,” The Blindman reached up and raised the dark sunglasses that covered his empty eye sockets and turned his head towards the dying drunk. “They say the eyes are the windows of the soul. As you can see, mine’s just empty. You should have taken my offer, boy and walked back to the bar when you had a chance. I didn’t really want to do this, but it really don’t bother me none.” The last breath from the drunk on the ground was a gasp of horror as he stared into The Blindman’s empty eye-sockets. Without another sound, the man died.
“Dammit, you blind bastard,” came the angry voice of Sheriff Rogers, “I told you that I wanted that one alive! Why can’t you boys ever just do what I ask you to do?”
“Wait just one damned minute. You tellin’ me that this is Snakebite McGraw?”
“Yes, that’s Snakebite McGraw, and I told you that I wanted him alive! How the hell am I gonna explain this to Williamson?”
“Well, we didn’t exactly expect him to be in the saloon across the street from your office, now did we?” asked The Blindman, “Besides, I never actually saw the guy, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. Well, just so long as he’s dead. I’ll get you boys yer money. And if you still need some more work, well, I just got a telegram from Purgatory Wells. Seems that they’re havin’ a spot of trouble down there and could use you.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to get us to leave town now, would you Sheriff?” asked The Blindman with a slight grin.
“Yeah, I am. We need a bit of a break from you four. Besides, it ain’t far away. From what I can tell, it’ll be an easy job, and it’s good money whether you bring the mark in alive or dead. Sounds like a can’t lose proposition to me.”
“Well, I’ll have to talk it over with the rest of the boys, but it does sound like a good deal.”
Sheriff Rogers breathed a quiet sigh of relief as The Blindman stood up and headed back into the saloon.

“Seems that the good sheriff no longer appreciates our presence here,” Matthias said after The Blindman outlined Rogers’ offer.
“No, he said they needed a break from us, on account that once again, we handed him a bounty that was dead. Well, I handed him a bounty that was dead, but like I told the sheriff, it ain’t like I expected the bastard to be drinkin’ in the saloon right across the street.”
“So, this job that the sheriff would like us to do, what is it exactly?” asked Lobo.
“Well, it seems that the town of Purgatory Wells has been having some problems with a group of bandits the last few months. Stealin’ their livestock, ambushing shipments, things like that. Seems that they’ve managed to capture the brother of the gang’s leader. Of course, that's just made them ornerier. What they want us to do is act like we’re escorting the guy back here for trial, and when the rest of the gang ambushes us; they want us to take out as many as possible. Plus, he said there’s a sweet bonus involved if we can bring in the leader, and unlike Rogers, Purgatory Wells’ sheriff don’t care if he’s alive or dead when we bring him in. Also, it sounds as if a bunch of other men like us have tried to bring this hombre in, and ended up dead for their troubles. Sheriff in Purgatory Wells’ll have the rest of the information for us when we get there. So what do you boys think?”
“It sounds easy enough,” said Matthias.
“It does, and that’s just what worries me,” replied Lobo, “Things like this are never as easy as they seem at first glance. We’ll just have to be ready, and take special note of the route along the way. But we need the money, and it does sound like something that we can do without much trouble. I suggest we take the job. We’ll leave in the morning.”