From Hell (13 page)

She took a draw from her
cigarette and glanced across the street at Mustache. He hadn’t
moved, so maybe this
wasn’t
a two-man operation. Maybe Mustache just wanted
to watch the show.

Meany’s eyes narrowed, and he edged
closer. “So you, uh...it’s just you and your pa?”

Nina took a step back, blowing out a
slow cloud of smoke as if she could hide behind it.
“Yup.”

“
Well, ain’t that
somethin’?” He glanced around furtively, backing her up. It was
only a matter of time before he made his move. “See, I know about
rocks. Always have. What I mean is rocks always got somethin’ under
them. You just gotta lift them and look. That’s why I come over
here. I lifted, and look what I found, a pretty little Injun
girl...”

A commotion at the far end of town
interrupted him; a chorus of dogs barking, howling, and yipping all
at once. A shiver ran down Nina’s spine. She walked around Meany to
have a look, checking him with her shoulder as she went by. He was
all skin and bones beneath his coat, and he did indeed have a
pistol in the inner front pocket. He grunted and moved aside easily
enough; only one thing a violent fellow like this understood, and
that was greater violence. Nina would dish him some if need be, but
that wasn’t her primary concern right now.

What the fuck was happening at the
other end of town?

She rounded the back of the wagon and
jerked back as a pack of dogs ran by, mongrels with matted coats
and patches of mange, yelping like they were being beaten to within
an inch of their lives. The hair on the back of Nina’s neck rose.
She chanced a second look as two more packs scurried
past.

The wagon shimmied and shook as her
horses, Apple and Oatmeal, pulled nervously in their tugs. Nina
turned and ran smack into Meany, who was right on her heels. She
didn’t know if this was his move, or if he was just curious about
the noise, too, but she wasn’t waiting to find out. She hooked a
foot behind his legs, grabbed the front of his shirt, and shoved
him into the mud.

Without waiting to see his reaction,
Nina hopped up on the boardwalk and went to the front of the wagon.
She took hold of Apple’s reins to calm the old boy, even as he
continued to nicker and paw the ground.

More fuckery was happening at the far
end of Main Street. An old piece of shit covered wagon resting
across the lane took a battering from some unseen force. It
vibrated and bumped around, suddenly flying up and flipping on its
side, falling to pieces.

“
What the fuck?” Nina
whispered.

Horses and cows poured over and around
the crushed parts and stampeded down the street, flying with
reckless abandon, churning up mud as they came, crazed eyes
spinning around in their tossing heads. Nina’s first thought was
that they were infected with something. What did they call it?
Rabies?

One man ran to the middle of the lane
and held up his hands as if to stop the oncoming horde.

Don’t do that,
mister.
“Oh fuck.”

A young bull lowered his head and
barreled over the man, sending him careening down the lane where he
landed hard on his back. Blood covered his face and lips, but he
was still alive. He looked up just as the herd ran him over,
crushing him to pieces beneath tons of panicked flesh.

Nina glanced across the way, catching
Mustache’s eye just as the herd raced by. She probably mirrored his
expression, neither of them ever having seen so many spooked
animals. She blinked, and Mustache was gone.

Time to get Pa and haul ass. They
could come back some other time when things were less out of hand.
She turned and found her path blocked, again, by Meany.

“
Now darlin’,” he started
to say, but Nina cut him off with a punch to the nose. It didn’t
break, but it must have stung. The man staggered back two paces and
clutched his face, eyes watering. “Hey!” he cried, a muffled
sound.

Nina pulled her Colt and pointed the
barrel at his chest. She cocked the weapon and gave him a final
warning, no longer concerned with disguising her voice. “I’ll put a
bullet in the same spot if you don’t back the fuck off, mister. You
think I’m joking you just...” Nina stopped, her threat falling
short. The man’s eyes were opened wide, his mouth an O behind his
hand. He wasn’t looking at Nina or her gun. He wore an expression
of dumb terror; something was scaring the God’s-fuck-all out of the
cocksucker. Something behind her.

Going against one of her golden
rules—never take your gun off a son-of-a-bitch until he’s either
dead or gone from your sight—she turned and gave pause.

“
You’ve got to be fuckin’
kiddin’ me.”

Rambling down the street after the
panicked herd was another pack of animals. Injured horses bled from
horrendous cuts, gashes, and tears. Horseflesh hung in swaths,
muzzles chewed to the bone as if crows had been at them for a week.
One beast was half-skinned, the fibrous muscles of its shoulder and
hind quarters painfully visible, glistening with congealed blood. A
second animal had a rip down its side, eviscerated, dragging its
bowels through the mud. Another disturbing thing—just a small bit
of non-horse fucking behavior that stuck in Nina’s craw—they had no
breath; no billowing, nostril-flaring puffs of steam an equine with
heaving sides might display in the cold, spring air.

The herd cantered along on unsteady
legs, bumping against one another as pieces of loose skin and
gristle sloughed off into the mud. A lumbering, silent mass of dead
meat.

Nina backed away from the unholy
sight, suddenly wishing she’d listened to her mother’s religious
convictions, for surely she must have died and taken the express
train straight to fucking Hell.