Title: Amazing, Arizona (2/??)
Name: Allaine
Spoilers: Certain characters are based on characters belonging to Marvel Comics, DC Comics, Disney, and various other companies. To name them would mean spoiling the surprise of who you'll encounter. If you don't recognize someone, it's either because you're not a member of the fandom, or it's an original character.
Rating: R
Summary: Driving a hijacked gold train southeast through the Arizona Territory in 1879, the Charnel House Gang's next stop on the line to Tombstone is the town of Amazing, a not-quite-normal place where people just want to be left alone. The Gang's plan to pillage the town and kill the inhabitants hits a snag, however, in the person wearing the tin star - Sheriff Raven Darkholme.
Chapter 2
Rose Wagner, currently one of two sworn deputies for the town of Amazing, Arizona, had always been an odd girl. She was struck by lightning at the age of six, and the only lasting effect was the white it put in her hair.
When she was seven, she lifted the heavy wooden table in the kitchen - with one hand, no less - when one of her toys rolled underneath.
When she was nine, she rescued her cat from a tree by flying up to the branch he was clinging to.
Her father, an ordained minister who preached in their hometown of Atlanta, Georgia, believed the Lord himself had bestowed these powers upon her with his lightning bolt from the heavens. Undoubtedly she would do great things.
Her grandfather on her mother's side, himself a preacher, believed that the Devil lived in her body, and that the lightning bolt had been an attempt to drive Satan out. Obviously, however, evil had too strong a grip on her soul.
Her mother sighed and reminded her not to use her abilities in front of people unless they were close relations or slaves.
Rose heard of mutants as she got older. But she didn't think of herself as one. Daddy said she was blessed by God, and that was fine with her.
Until 1864, when a cannonball fired by the damnyankees and the true Devil, General Sherman, knocked her through both walls of her Atlanta home. Her clothes didn't survive, but she walked away without a scratch.
It was then that Rose began to wonder if perhaps she'd had powers BEFORE being struck by lightning - if perhaps they were the REASON she'd lived.
She'd also wondered - had she known sooner, could she have, in some small way, changed the course of the War? Woman or not, she could fly, she could survive a direct hit from artillery, and she was stronger than seven men combined.
After the Confederacy's bitter defeat, Rose had read about the mutants who belonged to Quantrill's Raiders out west. The Yankees couldn't do much about them either, and it didn't change a goddamn thing. It made her feel better. A little.
Currently, however, she wasn't in the South. She was in the Wild West, and she could fly all she liked. Right now, she was investigating downed telegraph lines, and the coal miner's helmet on her head was the only thing keeping her on a straight line in the pitch black darkness. Even the stars seemed dim tonight.
A problem with the telegraph wasn't necessary the first sign of the apocalypse. But Indians were known to wreck telegraph lines when they were on the warpath. It was Rose's job to make sure the Apache wasn't heading toward Amazing with rage in their hearts.
She'd already passed two towns - both time turning her headlamp off, so as not to draw attention. There were a lot of rumors about Amazing floating around this part of Arizona, but no one guessed that the population was almost entirely mutant. Better not to create more rumors. Both towns were at peace, and still no problems sighted with the wires.
She'd turn around before she reached the California border. Problems in California were no concern of hers. That was over an hour away though, even at her flying speed. And there were more towns in between. Right now, however, the only thing she'd seen between the towns was a lone train heading east.
That and . . . a fire?
Rose's eyes widened as she turned off her helmet light. She didn't think she'd need it. It was just a spark from here, but a spark in the distance was usually a lot bigger up close.
Two minutes later, she was proved right as she landed in the devastation that used to be the town of Featherston, Arizona.
Apache, she first thought to herself as she walked silently past buildings that were either gutted, still burning, or just knocked to the ground. Bodies were hanging out of windows.
The thing was, nobody seemed to have any arrows sticking out of them. Plenty of Apaches used guns nowadays, but the era of the bow and arrow had not yet passed. Some of these people should have been riddled with arrows.
Yankees, she instinctively guessed. She'd seen Union troops burn homes and farms to the ground, make it look like no one had ever lived there, in the lean years after the War. They'd been greedy monsters, and when four men in blue had thought a lone Southern woman was a chance for fun, they'd been lucky to be alive when she was through with them. Yep, the luck had been theirs. Their testimony had sent her running (or flying) West.
But the damnyankees wouldn't have done this. It made no sense at all. The War was long over, and the troops were too busy hunting Injuns to harass law-abiding folk.
The most likely culprit, she concluded as she reached the other end of the main street, was outlaws. A gang, maybe thirty or more, swept in, plundered the town for all it was worth, and then - rode off?
Even as she grew convinced that this was the work of outlaws, there were things that still bothered her. There weren't nearly enough horse tracks to suggest a large gang of men on horseback had swept through. And very few people had been shot. Covering her mouth and nose, Rose checked some of the bodies and found they'd been bludgeoned, strangled, even BITTEN - but not shot. Did the men have dogs with them? Were they especially sadistic men who wanted their victims to die painfully?
And where had they come from? Where had they GONE? The only thing she'd seen between here and Amazing was . . .
She realized why there were no horse tracks. The men had arrived by train.
Turning, Rose flew into the air and headed east as fast as she could.
"Why the hell we're on this fuckin' train instead of back in that town," Striker muttered as he paced.
"Calm down, Striker," a man said as he played cards with Wolf and Whale. He turned and looked at the other man. He grinned, and flicked a pointed tongue through his teeth. "Have a seat."
Wolf and Whale roared with laughter.
"Fuck you!" Striker snarled. His coat billowed as if a wind had blown through the train car.
Like a snake, a long tendril darted out from behind Striker and squirted a hot, corrosive liquid all over the table, ruining playing cards and scarring gold coins. A few drops hit Wolf as he leapt backwards, and he yelped as the acid bit into his pelt.
"What the fuck's your problem?!" Whale spat, hardly able to move his massive bulk in the small (for him) car and glad the acid hadn't hit him.
"You know what his fuckin' problem is," Forktongue said before Striker couldn't answer. "He's just a goddamn scorpion, and everybody knows you can't trust no scorpion."
Striker flung off his coat, revealing the scorpion's stinger that grew out of his back. Obviously his tail prevented him from sitting down like normal people. The tip dripped poison as it hovered over Striker's head, but the acid just rolled off his shoulder and hit the floor, where it bubbled. "Who'd trust a snake like you?" he retorted.
"I ain't no snake," Forktongue shot back. "I'm somethin' greater than an ordinary rattler."
"Right," Striker drawled. "Big special 'naga', can turn into a man and back again. Well, lah-dee-dah. So you can look like a man. Who the hell don't?"
"Without that coat, you," Forktongue sneered.
Striker drew his revolver and pointed it at Forktongue's head. "Don't think I won't pull the trigger," he hissed.
"Sure," Forktongue said, bored. "Y'all don't need me to take Tombstone."
"You're damn right we don't need you," Striker swore.
Before Striker knew it, Forktongue whirled about and grew several feet in length. A shot rang out, but it bounced off the naga's scales as he reared his serpentine head. "Well, if y'all don't need me," it said, "then we sure asss hell don't need you, insssect!"
"Hey, how about we all just settle down?" Wolf asked. One of his heads stared unblinkingly at Forktongue, while the other watched Striker. "No need to go trying to kill each other. We all know it can't be done anyway."
"Huh, he's right about that," Striker said.
"And I don't trust any of you, so just forget that word, okay?" Wolf added. "You two are just pissed because Striker wanted to leave as soon as we could, and Forktongue wanted to stay until everyone was dead."
"I didn't get enough to eat," Whale grumbled.
"Shove it, Whale," Forktongue growled, his serpent's head morphing into a human one. "How 'bout we compromise? Lessus take turns. Next town, we stay the night, enjoy the women before we kill 'em, that kind of thing. Town after that, we'll kill 'em, take their things, and go. And we can jest al-ter-nate after that. That all right with you, Striker?"
His scorpion's tail trembled, but Striker tossed his head. "Fine. Let's just get to Tombstone before 1880, okay?"
"Good," the naga said. "Well, since the game's finished for tonight, I'm going up to the engine and checking on Palmetto. He sure was happier than a pig in shit about playing engineer."
"It's 'cause he's insane, Forktongue," Striker said.
"That just makes 'im deadlier," Forktongue replied.
"Got that right," Whale chuckled.
Rose pulled away from the train car and hovered in midair, allowing the train to pull away a little. She was too shocked to do anything for a moment.
"The Charnel House Gang!" she whispered. "I gotta warn 'em!"
As she flew high above the train, she did a little math in her head. Amazing was three towns down the line. If the Gang was going to spend a little extra time in every other town, that meant that not even the people in the farms and ranches surrounding the town were safe. They were going to have to run NOW.
But there were two towns in even graver danger, and she headed for the closest one first. She was so alarmed that she lost all consideration of caution. When she landed in the town five minutes later, she landed right in the middle of the street. It was late and most people were in bed, but a few men saw and pointed.
"Sheriff," Rose demanded as she approached two of them. "Where is he?!"
One finally pointed left. "Down the street, mutie," he grunted.
Rose suddenly realized what she'd done. "Thanks," she said before running in the direction he'd gestured.
Raven yawned as she sat on the small bed in her spartan rooms. Her clothes vanished as they melted into her body. Her hat had been the only article of clothing she'd ever worn, except for the rare occasion she'd strapped on her gunbelt since becoming sheriff of Amazing.
Carefully she reached over and picked up a small framed glass on a table. It was an Ambrotype of a attractive young woman smiling, not at the person taking the picture, but at a point over that person's shoulder.
She ran a thumb over the image. "Irene," she breathed. "If only you were here. You'd know what to do about the mayor and her brat. STEPbrat, I mean." She kissed the glass gently and set it back down.
Then Raven lay back and waited for sleep. There would be dreams of death, no doubt. What she never knew was WHOSE death she might see, and WHO would be responsible?
Well, that wasn't entirely accurate, was it? In the end, the woman she used to be was always responsible.
"Mystique," Raven murmured as she closed her eyes.
Her eyes leapt open again as someone pounded hard on her door.
Raven grumbled as she shifted back into her "clothes". She didn't bother with boots as she stood up and padded over to her door. "What the hell is it now?" she growled as she opened the door.
"It's bad, Sheriff! Real bad," the young man said, shaking all over. The night operator at the train station and telegraph office, she realized.
"Easy, Jim. What's this?"
He shoved a telegram into her hands. "It came from Redrock," he said, referring to the closest town to the west. "Read it!"
She lowered her golden eyes and read what the paper said.
TOWN OF FEATHERSTON RAZED STOP CHARNEL HOUSE GANG STOP RIDING STOLEN TRAIN EAST TOWARD TOMBSTONE STOP INTEND TO ATTACK EVERY STOP ALONG THE WAY STOP CALL OUT NEAREST GARRISON STOP ALL CIVILIANS TAKE COVER STOP
Raven dropped the telegram, then caught it before it fell far, crinkling the message. "Shit," she whispered.
"I gotta take this to the mayor," Jim said, his voice shaking. "Sheriff, what're we going to do?"
She gave it back to him slowly, her vision swimming. It couldn't be - not them. "I don't know," she muttered. "Guess we'll tell the mayor together." Boots appeared on her feet now. "And then - I don't know."
Raven grabbed her hat. She had a sick feeling in her stomach, one that no amount of shapeshifting would cure.
"This can't be good," Mayor Frost said upon opening the door.
"Howdy, mayor," the man towering over her said.
"We've got a serious situation here, Emma," Raven said as she pushed past her other deputy, Waylon. "Can we come in?" She took the telegram from Jim and pushed him away. "And you stay by that telegraph and let us know if we hear anything from Tombstone."
"Y-yes, ma'am," he gulped.
"And don't tell nobody nothin', hear me?" Raven added, grabbing his shoulder. "No panic in my town."
He nodded and ran for the telegraph office.
"Well," Emma said. "I think I need a drink. Care for one?"
"Thankee, ma'am," Waylon rasped.
"Not right now, Emma," Raven said.
Her silk nightgown and robe glimmered as the mayor turned and went back inside.
Waylon lowered his head as he entered the Frost house, naturally the biggest in Amazing. Even her front door wasn't big enough for him to enter without ducking, though. He was the biggest person in town. Waylon Jones was a Southerner like Rose, and almost as strong as her, but he'd come from the swamps of Florida, rather than the city in Georgia. And while Rose looked no different from other women her age, Waylon would always stand out in a crowd. Instead of skin, he had a thick, green hide with ridges along his back. When he smiled, people saw large gaps between razor-sharp teeth.
In effect, he looked very much the alligators he claimed to have wrestled, killed, and eaten at one time. He wasn't very bright, but like a gator he had good instincts and a sly, animal cunning that enabled him to sniff out opportunities and weaknesses. If someone tried to hide something from him, chances were he'd smell it. All in all, Raven was glad he preferred being deputy to being an outlaw.
Emma poured herself a whiskey and floated the glass over to Waylon, who took it gingerly with his scaly hands. He knocked it back quickly. "That's a lot finer than what they serve at the saloon," he rumbled.
"Only you could drink that as quickly as you did and not make a face, deputy," Emma murmured as she poured a second drink and sipped carefully. "So what's the problem? Apache?"
"Worse, Emma," Raven said. "We got a telegram. Looks like the Charnel House Gang is riding a stolen train in our direction."
Emma dropped her glass much as Raven had dropped the telegram. Like Raven she caught it before it hit the floor, only she did it with her mind. "My goodness," she said. "You can't be serious."
"Deadly serious, Mayor," Raven replied, handing her the telegram. "I sent Rose west earlier because of telegraph problems up that way. My guess is, she got to Featherston, saw what happened - maybe even saw the Gang there - and notified the sheriff in the next town over. They must be wiring every town between there and Tombstone."
"Every stop on the line," Emma muttered. "I can't believe this."
"Aunt Emma?"
The three adults turned. "Go back to bed, Crystal," Emma said quietly to the girl in the doorway. "This is town business."
The teenager hesitated. Like Waylon she was the kind of mutant who could never blend in. Her skin and hair were a shade of blue so light it was almost silver. "Is anything wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing to worry about 'til the morn'," Raven said. "Listen to your aunt and go back to bed."
Crystal ducked her head. "Sorry, sheriff," she mumbled before leaving.
Emma sighed. "Maybe we shouldn't have sent her back to bed. Maybe what we need to do is get everyone from their beds and organize a response to this."
"They won't be here until at least tomorrow night," Raven said.
"And you know this how?"
"There are two things slowing them down - Redrock and Milton. They're going to hit those towns first. I reckon they'll be so fat and lickered up after they take what they want in Milton, they'll sleep for hours. They're animals at heart, after all."
"And you would know?" Emma asked.
Raven shrugged uncomfortably. "I saw them once, five years ago. Town south of Tulsa. I watched them kill two men. They're animals, Mayor."
"The fact that they're animals doesn't exactly reassure me," Emma said. "Sounds like you know the Gang better than anyone else in this town. Maybe you should describe to the townspeople just what kind of a danger we're dealing with. Still, we need every minute we have. You don't expect us to just go back to sleep!"
"Us? No. I reckon we're going to be up all night and all day tomorrow too. But there's no point pulling people out of their beds now. They'll be tired and they won't be thinkin' straight, and they're liable to panic." Raven scuffed the floor with the toe of her boot. "We can organize 'em better in the morning, once WE'RE organized."
"And what do you suggest we do first?" Emma asked.
Raven crossed her arms. "Nobody's going to come to our rescue," she said. "The government has taken the Gang on more than once, and the Gang is still goin' strong. If they send the cavalry out, the Gang'll eat 'em alive. The smart thing to do, if I was the territorial governor? First I'd notify the folks in California and ask if men can be sent east to cut off the Gang from behind. Then I'd pull every available soldier in Arizona back to Tombstone, and wait for the Gang to arrive. Better to fight the Gang defensively, and the mines at Tombstone are the only things in this area worth saving, 'cept for a few people who'll probably die anyway no matter what the army does."
"I agree," Emma replied after a moment, "but what does that have to do with the question I asked you?"
"You ast me what we do first. I'm reminding you that the only people who have a decision about whether we live or die are the people of this town, and the killers on that train. So we gotta decide. Decide whether we run . . . or fight."
To be continued . . .
(Author's Note – Redrock, Milton, and Featherston are all the names of fictitious Arizona towns.)
