Skinwalkers (16 page)

Unlike their shaman counterparts, skin-walkers are, for obvious reasons, a secret society among the Navajo known only to themselves. It is often speculated that small groups practicing the rites and beliefs of skin-walkers still exist among the tribes today, leading normal lives during the daytime while performing acts of mischief and evil in
chindi
-form at night.

While no true empirical evidence of skin-walkers is known to exist, much has been made of the skeleton found in the remains of the ghost town thought to have been Perdition, New Mexico, and the unfortunate accidents surrounding its excavation. Although considered to be a fake by most experts, the skeleton known as Homo lupus, or barking man as dubbed by the news media, continues to be the basis for much debate among the scientific community. Until such time that the colorful theories surrounding its origin can be disproved, the question remains: does the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science have the skeleton of an authentic skin-walker in its possession? Perhaps with future improvements in anthropological research, technology, and dating methods, a definitive conclusion will one day be reached …

THE ARMORY

“G
oddamn varmints,“ Wilson said, having to talk over the yowls of the
skinwalkers
. “I’ll kill every fucking one of them.“

Farnsworth massaged his burned hand. “And how, sir, do you propose to accomplish such a Herculean labor? We are but a few men with depleted arms, while they are many with an endless supply of fang and claw.“

“We could throw you out there and let you jaw them to death.“

With Pablo calm for the moment, Maxine joined the men. “He’s got a point. What are we going to do?“

“I say we wait them out,“ Reverend Phillips said. “Surely these servants of the devil will have to crawl back into whatever hole they call home when the sun rises.“

“Didn’t you hear me?“ Private Sanchez asked. “The sun hasn’t risen since they attacked us.

“There isn’t going to be a dawn!“

“It is Coyote’s doing,“ Little Joe said. “His power has become so great he can even pluck the sun from the sky.“

They looked at one another blank-faced for a moment, and then, as though they were a single organism, turned their gaze on the bounty hunter.

“We can’t wait them out.“ The bounty hunter checked the chambers of his revolvers. “And I got maybe ten shots left, and that’s probably more than the rest of you put together. There’s no chance we’re fighting our way out of here, either.

“I don’t know what to do.“

A look of despair moved from one face to the next, taking them one by one into its grasp, save for the reverend. He raised his head and fixed his eyes on the bounty hunter. “There … that is … what I mean to say is …“

“Well, Reverend, spit it out.“

“There may be something
that
can improve our situation.“

“T
ake it all out!“ the reverend said. “Every statue! Every picture of the virgin! Every last idolatrous item the Whore of Babylon would corrupt God’s church with!“

The reverend stood in the mission, barking orders to Mexican workers as they gutted the place of all Catholic iconography. “Trash it all but the gold. I will see to it personally that those items are used to further fund God’s true work.“

And am I not employee in the true work of the Lord
, Phillips thought as a smile touched his lips.
One in dire need of compensation?

He walked across the room, moving beyond the pulpit to throw back the curtain shielding what had been the priest’s rectory.
 
He eyed the shrine he found there with disgust. He began snatching up candles and tossing them over his shoulder into the main room.

“Idolaters!“ He tossed a small statue over his shoulder. “False prophets!“ The reverend kicked the shrine so that it tumbled over into the room’s corner. The rug beneath the falling shrine was yanked up. Something odd about the floor space caught the reverend’s eye. He did a double-take and saw that a large trapdoor had been carved out of the floorboards. “What’s this?“

Reverend Phillips walked over to the trapdoor and heaved open
its double doors
. He lay down on the floor and ducked his head into the voluminous hole
left in the doors’ wake
. The righteous indignation he’d been feeling drained out of him to be replaced by shocked awe. “Good Lord in heaven!“

T
he bounty hunter and Little Joe shoved the reverend’s desk
aside
, revealing the large trapdoor
Phillips
had promised would be there.

“I’ll be goddamned!“ Wilson said. He stood with Maxine, Farnsworth, Sanchez, and Phillips where they huddled just inside the study door. The bounty hunter and Little Joe backed away from the trapdoor and turned to peer at Farnsworth. The bounty hunter drew his revolver. “Open it.“

Farnsworth gazed at the bounty hunter in disbelief. “Me? We haven’t a clue what terrors may now lie beneath. Why should I be the one who risks skin and bone?“

“Because I
says
so,“ the bounty hunter said. “Now open it.“

“I shall not!“ Farnsworth said.

“Professor,“ the bounty hunter said, “
If
I don’t see your
skinny
ass running over here and opening
those doors
in about three seconds, I’m gonna
—!“

“No,“ Maxine said. “He’s right. He’s risked as much as the rest of us. It’s not fair to force him, no matter what kind of bastard he is. I’ll do it.“

“But you’re a lady,“ Wilson said.

“Yes, one who also has risked as much as the rest of you. More so because of my child. And so I have the right to take charge of my fate rather than just sit back and let you or the
skinwalkers
dole it out to me
.“

“You sure?“ the bounty said, pronouncing the word sure like
shore
. “I can go down while Little Joe
—“

“I said I’ll do it,“ Maxine said, her voice soft but firm.

“Thank you my dear lady,“ Farnsworth said. “
It’s
quite refreshing to see that at least one
—!“

“Oh, shut your fancy cocksucker, Professor
.“
Maxine stepped forward and dropped to her knees. Little Joe crouched down and grabbed hold of the
trap’s double doors
. He looked at her and mumbled something to her in his native tongue
—
a blessing, she hoped.

“All right
.“ The
bounty hunter aimed his revolvers at the trapdoor. “Ready.“ Little Joe waited for Max to gather herself. She exhaled and then nodded to him. He nodded in return and then slowly opened the
trapdoor, the
rusty hinges moaning in protest.

Maxine stared into the dark, rectangular abyss left in the
door’s wake.
As she listened for movement, the already large opening seemed to swell beneath her, growing like the mouth of a giant wanting to swallow her whole.

After several moments of silence, Maxine took hold of the doorframe and leaned her head beneath the floor. Darkness met her eyes. She rose and turned to the group. “I need a match.“

“I’ve got
some.“
Sanchez drew a match from his pants pocket. He stepped forward and handed it to Maxine. She
lit
it with her thumbnail and
began to kneel
.

Reverend Phillips hands
rose
to warn caution.
“Be careful!“

Maxine frowned at him. She
took a knee and
held the match out
over the gaping
hole. She imagined
its
light revealing a
skinwalker
just as it reached out with its long, black claws and ripped her face off. She shook herself, then lowered her upper body into the hole.

The light
of the match
revealed strange, angular shapes
. Before
Maxine could make them out, the match extinguished as it burned the tip of her thumb. Maxine cursed and dropped the charred match. “I need another match.“ She did not bother to rise from the hole
. She
merely held
up
her hand
. A
match
pressed itself
into her palm
.
She ignited
it
with her thumb and dim light filled her field of vision. She gasped at what she saw. The ground had been hollowed out so that the church sat on posts above a deep dirt pit filled with munitions. Everywhere Maxine looked, her eyes met crates of muskets and barrels of gunpowder.

“What do you see?“ the bounty hunter called.

Maxine
smiled. “Wilson might get to put a bullet in all those
skinwalkers
, yet
. It’s a goddamn arsenal down here!“

Maxine rose out of the hole and then swung her legs over its side. “Give me another match. I’m going down.“

The bounty hunter shook his head “Maxine, the
gun powder—“

“Give me another match, damn it. I’m not an idiot. I’ll be perfectly safe.“

Sanchez handed her another match and then she slipped through the opening to drop into the pit. Her feet met earth and she found she could stand
up right
without hitting the church floor. She struck the match and waved it front of her, its light revealing open crates of ordinance.
Her eyes grew more accustomed to the dim light, allowing her to see a number of lanterns hanging along the posts holding up the mission
.

She
took a lantern
and
lit
it. A steady, soft orange light filled the
chamber. Maxine
saw there were even more weapons and ammunition than her first glance had revealed. She heard a
thunk
and turned to see the bounty hunter dropping to the floor behind her, Little Joe
on
his heels. Wilson and Reverend Phillips
followed behind. Farnsworth and the clinking remains of his shackle brought up the rear. They passed out the lanterns
and spread out, each inspecting a different corner of the pit.

“I figure this must have been a secret bunker for Santa Anna,“ Phillips said
, “or
at least that of a loyalist. Hell, this whole church is a farce; constructed more like a small fort than a mission.
Be careful with that
!“ Phillips jerked Farnsworth’s arm away from several barrels the writer had been inspecting. He’d been
dipping his
lantern
down among them
.

“Hey!“ Farnsworth said. “What is the meaning of this?“

“You numbskull!“ Phillips pointed to the barrels. “That’s gunpowder. Stick your
lantern
in the wrong place and the whole church will go up like the
Fourth
of July!“

“Oh,“ Farnsworth said, fear dawning on his face. “Pardon me.“

The reverend shook his head and released Farnsworth’s arm. “Anyway, Santa Anna must have been readying for another try at Mexico that never came. Somehow, this place must have been forgotten about.“

“Or abandoned in great haste,“
Maxine
said.

Wilson grinned. “Well, yea for El
Presidente
!“
He
came to a large, dust-covered tarp and yanked it from its resting place. “Holy shit
.
Look at this
.“

The tarp had been covering a large, six-barreled gun mounted on wagon wheels.

Private Sanchez joined Wilson.
“It’s a fucking Gatling gun.“
His eyes moved to the box-shaped hump the tarp had made when coming to rest. He walked over to the tarp and drew it back. A crate full of loaded hoppers met his eyes. “And we’ve got ammo
.“
Suddenly, the delight drained out of Sanchez’s face. He dropped the tarp, doubled over, and grimaced in pain.

“Hey,“ Wilson asked. “You all right?“

“Yeah,“ Sanchez said as he regained his composure. “Just a bellyache. I’ll be fine.“

The bounty hunter joined them and looked the scene over. “Can you operate this thing, Private?“

“You bet your ass I can
.“
Sanchez said.
Whatever
pain had seized him seemed to have passed.

“Good. Let’s get those planks beneath it positioned at the trapdoor and pull this
thing
upstairs.“

“What the hell for?“ Wilson asked. “The door’s barred. Those things can’t get in. The gun wouldn’t do us any good up there.“