The new pole was working again soon after. Enis and Adam both confirmed it by sending small messages using the waystations on either side; Adam sent a passage of the Bible, Enis an unflattering sentiment about Adam. Winston made a note to deduct a few dollars from Enis’ paycheck. Not that the German would really notice but it was the principle that mattered.
“Ready to move out?” Old Red asked. His eyes skitted upward a couple times. “The boys are getting nervous.”
Winston held his hand over his eyes and looked up too. Noon had come and gone, rolled along the placid blue sky. Whilst they weren’t yet in danger of being caught out here at sunset, it was always better to get away early. If he were a prouder man, Winston would have made fun of Old Red for being a bit yellow.
But Winston kept himself pious. “Enis, we good to go?”
Enis always knew when a job was done. It was why Winston didn’t want to check into his past even though it was clear he was running from something; the man was thorough as a Saint. “I am thinking yes, we are good to go.”
“Then tell your men-”
“Red, something’s coming,” one of the mercenaries shouted. His voice was filled with panic.
Old Red span. “Where?”
The mercenary, a young man with a whispy beard on his chin, pointed with his gun, a massive calibre pistol that could down a mountain if needs be. “North, just entering the valley.”
Winston pulled out his binoculars – Abilene called them his Far Eyes – and scanned the horizon. Sure enough, a figure approached. It looked like a man but then so did many things that weren’t. Wearing black, it had a black face and black hands. Fear rippled through Winston; if he didn’t know better, he’d have said he was looking at Lucifer himself.
“What in the Hell is someone doing out here?” Old Red asked.
Winston didn’t lower his Far Eyes. He watched the figure. Not quite running, not quite walking, it was moving with an insistent speed that suggested it would be with them soon.
“Thieving?” John suggested.
“Lost?” another Red Bullet said.
“He doesn’t look lost,” Winston said. “More like he’s found what he was looking for.”
Old Red cackled, though there was tension in his voice. “Don’t be so melodramatic. Come on, Abe, take him down.”
“You can’t shoot an innocent man!” Adam cried, long hair swishing in dismay.
“What is this, your first trip? No man willingly shirking the Dixie Problem can be innocent. Abe, you got a sight on him?”
Winston risked a look away. Abe, a Mexican lad, barely a teenager, was now laying beside Old Red. He had a long rifle in his hands which he leant on a stand built into the barrel. It was a sniper’s weapon, another with a huge calibre. He even had a cushioned metal plate slung over his shoulder to deal with the kick. Nothing living could survive a shot from that beast.
“Yes,” Abe replied.
“Then fire, you damn moron!”
The shot rung out. Winston’s ears complained in shrill tones but he barely noticed; instead, he went back to watching the dark figure. The bullet struck true, smacking into their chest, but it didn’t faze them; the monster just kept coming. For surely, after shrugging off such a shot, a monster it must’ve been.
“Damn it Abe, hit, will you!”
Winston licked his lips. “He did hit.”
“Then how is he still walking?”
“Is no he, Red.” Abe replied. “That’s how.”
There was a silence as Old Red considered this. Then he shouted “Right, we’re out of here. Gather everything. Move quickly. Go!”
Winston was inclined to agree. He dropped the Far Eyes into his waistcoat pocket and ran to Thunder, who was spooked almost out of her mind. Climbing onto her, he spurred her into running and they charged away south. His engineers were shortly after him and the mercenaries were last. None spared their horse as they fled.
Thankfully, the black figure did not speed up or give chase. They got back to the cart they’d left pretty sharpish and Adam and John leapt from their horses to prepare it as soon as they were close enough. It did Winston a little proud that they’d known he wouldn’t want to leave the cart.
“You can’t be serious!” Old Red roared when he saw the TTC employees preparing the cart. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“I am serious,” Winston replied. He looked back for the dark figure; it wasn’t following, had seemed to have ignored them entirely. “Looks like we’ve got time.”
“I ain’t waiting around for a damn cart!”
Winston understood. He did. But if they weren’t being chased then he wasn’t about to lose part of his wages for leaving this stuff out. “You leave, you don’t get paid. This cart’s worth more than you.”
Old Red looked back at his men; they were harrowed, scared, but they sure as the Lord’s mercy weren’t going to like wasting a day for no pay. So the old mercenary backed down, shooting Winston an evil eye.
Not that he should’ve complained; Adam and John had the cart prepared shortly after the confrontation. Enis had brought the horses over in the meantime and so they were off again not a minute later, racing out of the Badlands, running away like school children.
Winston couldn’t help but risk one last look back with his Far Eyes before. The figure was deep into the valley by then. It hadn’t cared a jot about them. Winston wondered why for a moment but didn’t ponder it for long; who could hope to understand the mind of a demon?
Then a massive roar echoed between the Badlands’ verges. It was soon followed by a loud crack, as though the great spine of Leviathan had just been broken; the figure must have undone all their good work and was letting them know it’d done so.
“God save us,” Winston said, crossing himself.
“From what?” Enis asked.
Winston swallowed. “Another trip out here.”
