pistol. The town was empty, he was sure of it, but instinct told him to be ready for trouble. They moved from the store to the saloon and each of the buildings in turn. There were kicked-over tables and chairs, and supplies and canned goods knocked about, indicating a struggle. But only a few bloodstains-not enough blood for the number of men who had been killed.
“Chee, when these things attacked us in Wyoming…” Hollister started to say.
“Yes, sir, you said they drank the blood of your men. It would appear that is what happened here. For a dozen men to be killed, in this small area, there would be more blood. It should be everywhere. Yet it is not,” he said.
Chee stepped off the board porch in front of the saloon, studying the ground in front of the general store.
“What is it?” Hollister asked.
“Something. Tracks. A few days, a week old at most. They are mixed in with the hoofprints and footprints of the miners. It must not have rained here in a while. But someone was here, after the first attack by the creatures. Those tracks are too fresh. It was three, maybe four men,” he said. He didn’t mention the small footprints in the ground. Those, he was sure, belonged to the woman who had been following them. He lowered himself to the ground, peering at the marks, determining that the smaller footprints got heavier and trailed around the side of the building. Whoever had walked this path was carrying something heavy.
He followed the tracks to where they led to a small shed behind the store. Someone had made several trips back and forth from the front of the store to the shed. Maybe for firewood? Could this be where the miners kept their gold dust? He doubted that. It wasn’t the most secure place. For a reason he could not yet fathom, someone had returned to the scene and used the shed for something. He knew Declan had sent Slater to check out his son’s story, but he did not see Slater’s tracks anywhere. In town he had taken notice of the boots Slater wore and he saw no matching tracks. Slater would have been careful not to leave sign behind. He likely rode his horse along the shallow stream until he reached the camp, and then stayed on the wooden walkways, where he would leave no evidence of his having been there. It is how Chee would have done it if he had been asked by Hollister to perform a similar task.
The shed had a broken padlock.
“Major, over here,” he said.
Hollister felt compelled to draw his Colt. “What are you looking for, Chee?” he asked.
Chee didn’t answer, but threw away the padlock and pulled open the door on the small windowless building. He recognized the stench right away and jumped back a bit as the first body fell forward, landing in the dirt at his feet.
“Holy shit!” Hollister said, startled and taking a step back himself.
Two other bodies lay inside the shed. Chee looked at the major, wondering what he should do.
“Let’s get them out here, so we can have a look at them,” Hollister said, pulling his bandana over his mouth and nose to block out the smell.
Together they laid the corpses side by side on the ground. They had been dead a few days and were starting to decay, but the shed had saved them from the harshest elements. One of the men was badly burned, another had a large stab wound in the middle of his chest, and the third man had a broken neck.
“You don’t think these are miners, do you, sir?” Chee asked.
Hollister shook his head. “If we go by what young Mr. Declan told us, he’s the only one who survived that night. And these aren’t… I don’t think they’re… they don’t look like…”
“I don’t think they’re Deathwalkers either, sir,” Chee said.
Hollister felt an enormous surge of relief. “The question is, what and who are they?” he said. “And furthermore, how did they end up dead here?”
“And why hide them? If they came to loot the place, or surprised other looters, why would someone go to the trouble to hide their bodies?” Chee asked.
“Good question,” Hollister said. And he had no answer. At least not one that made sense.
Hollister stood, straightening his back. He looked up at the mine shaft, which was dug into the side of the hill to the west of the camp, about three hundred yards away.
“Let’s see if we can find some torches around here,” he said. “We might as well check out the mine.”
“Really, sir?” Chee asked. He didn’t like closed-in spaces. The thought of venturing into the dark mine gave him an uncomfortable feeling.
“Sure,” Hollister said. “Why wouldn’t we? We need to be thorough. Then he noticed. “What’s wrong, Chee?” he said.
“Nothing… sir…” Chee said. “It’s just I… would it be all right if I waited outside while you inspected it?”
Hollister tried hard not to chuckle. “Really, Chee? You’ll take on a thug like McAfee. Deathwalkers don’t seem to give you pause at all. But you don’t like the dark?”
“It’s not that… I… no, sir. I don’t like being closed in like that.”
“Well, we’ll try not to go too far in. But I’m afraid you need to come with me. I might need you to shoot something.”
“Yes, sir,” Chee said, the reluctance dripping from his voice.
They found two torches in the general store and Hollister retrieved the Ass-Kicker from his saddle. Since Winchester had left it, Monkey Pete had tinkered with it a bit, affixing a sling to the barrel and the stock. It hung at precisely the right position so Hollister could work the action and have one hand free. In truth he would have liked to use his Colt for the other hand, but they needed light. He would have to use his free hand to hold a torch, which they lit once they reached the entrance of the mine. Chee removed the ten-gauge shotgun he had strapped to his back and held his torch in the other hand.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Hollister asked.
“Unlikely, sir,” Chee answered, the sweat appearing on his forehead and dripping down the sides of his face. He held the torch out in front of him, brandishing it like a sword. The thumb on his other hand nervously worked over the trigger on the shotgun, ready to cock it and fire at a moment’s notice.
About fifty feet inside they saw the first signs that the killing hadn’t been confined to the town below. Here there were more dark brown stains scattered on the walls and in the dirt floor and on some of the timbers holding up the roof of the shaft. It was everywhere. Hollister thought this meant the first killings must have taken place here-which meant the creatures might have hidden in the mine to avoid the sun and waited for the miners to venture inside it before striking.
“Dear God,” Hollister whispered.
“Yes, sir,” Chee murmured.
“Chee, why do you think there is so much blood here and not in the buildings?” Hollister asked, working his torch over the sides and ceiling of the shaft looking for anything that might provide a clue.
“They were hungry,” Chee said.
“Hungry?”
“Yes, sir. Deathwalkers need to feed on blood. They were waiting here for the miners to arrive. And they were consumed with blood lust. They killed the men in here and fed enough to get themselves under control. Then they attacked the town. By then they were more in control, able to kill the men in the camp more quickly and efficiently and with less waste. A hungry man, someone who hasn’t eaten in days, is going to eat his first meal much more eagerly. Once his hunger is sated, he’ll be less crude at his next meal. A little neater. A little less of a savage. I think that’s what happened here.”
Hollister nodded his head in admiration for the young man’s intuition. “I think you’re right, Chee. I think that’s exactly what happened.”
A loud thump came from somewhere up ahead of them. Hollister raised the Ass-Kicker, thumbing back the hammer, hearing a reassuring hiss as steam filled the firing chamber.
“Sergeant, be ready,” he said.
Chee needed no other instruction. Although he wished that Hollister would suspend his examination of the mine and return to the outdoors. What more could they possibly discover here?
Hollister took the lead, the Ass-Kicker resting on his hip, his other hand holding the torch. The thumping noise sounded again, closer this time, and to Chee it very much felt like something was coming toward them. More noises filled the chamber, and try as he might, Chee could not determine what they were. He had grown up mostly in
