Weird West 04 - The Doctor and the Dinosaurs (21 page)

“Go for the eyes!” said Holliday, tossing Edison's weapon aside and drawing his pistol as Roosevelt ran to his horse and retrieved his rifle.

Holliday fired three quick shots to no effect. Roosevelt's could hear the
thunk!
as his rifle bullet slammed into an eye, but the creature didn't even blink or in any way acknowledge it had been hit.

And then, suddenly, a small man in a loincloth was standing between them and the creature.

Roosevelt stared intently at the man's back. “Geronimo?”

“Can't be,” said Holliday. “Geronimo's a six-footer. This guy is maybe five feet on his tiptoes.”

The monster was just two steps away now, and the small man raised his hand and started chanting in an unfamiliar tongue. The monster turned to him and opened its mouth wide as if to swallow him whole—

—and then two things happened simultaneously: the dinosaur froze in mid-movement, and the small man became visibly smaller. He uttered one more chant, and the creature suddenly crumbled and turned into a gray, powdery, shapeless dust that fell to the ground and covered it.

The man turned to face Holliday and Roosevelt.

“Damn!” exclaimed Holliday. “It
is
you! What the hell happened to you? You've got to be a foot shorter!”

“It has taken all of my powers and some of my essence to hold the Comanche medicine men at bay,” answered Geronimo. “I lost even more just now as I defeated the creature created by the minds and will of the Comanche.”

“I
knew
that thing could never have existed!” said Roosevelt.

“You are wrong, Roosevelt,” said Geronimo. “It existed here and now.” He turned to Holliday. “I told you the last time we met that I would not help you again.”

“But you did, and we're grateful.”

“And see what has become of me,” said Geronimo. “What is left of me,” he corrected.

“Why did you come, then?” asked Holliday.

“Because I have been observing, and the two madmen will never leave on their own. It is up to you two to treat with the Comanche, to have them call off their monsters. There is no other way.”

“We were on our way to do just that, but we have nothing to offer them,” said Roosevelt.

“And I don't think we can make Cope and Marsh stop digging here, short of killing them,” added Holliday. “And while at this point I have no serious objection to killing them, the problem is that Cody's already gone back East, and he'll be taking tales of the dinosaur resurrections with him. There will be still more madmen anxious to come here.”

“You will do what must be done,” said Geronimo. “That is why I have chosen you.”

“We'll do what we can,” said Holliday. “But don't hold your breath. Now, where are we headed and who do we want to parlay with?”

Geronimo pointed to the north. “You will find them there.”

“That could be a thousand square miles,” said Roosevelt. “Can you be more exact?”

“You will go where I pointed, and you will find them, or they you.”

“And who's the medicine man?”

“They have seven, but the most powerful, the one you must treat with, you will call Tall Bear.”

“What does he look like, so we'll recognize him?” asked Holliday.

“You will know him,” said Geronimo.

Holliday stared at him, then blinked. “You're fading away.”

“I have saved you,” said Geronimo, his voice becoming a hollow echo. “I can do no more.”

“You can tell us—” began Holliday, but then Roosevelt reached out and held his arm.

“Forget it, Doc. He's gone.”

“I know,” said Holliday. “‘That is why I have chosen you,’” he repeated sardonically. “As if there was anyone else left to choose.”

“We're all he's got,” agreed Roosevelt. “In terms of getting rid of the dinosaurs, we're all
anyone's
got.”

Holliday walked over to the pile of dust that had been a humongous carnivore just a moment earlier, ran his foot through it, kicked some of
it up in the air and watched it float back down to the ground. “This is the kind of dream I used to have when I'd drunk too much.”

“I had a dream like that right before I went on my first date with a girl,” answered Roosevelt.

“Oh, well, if the horses haven't fainted dead away, we might as well start going to…to wherever the hell we're going.”

Both horses were heavily lathered, but hadn't broken free of their tethers and hobbles, and a moment later Holliday and Roosevelt were riding north.

“Shit!” snapped Holliday after another half hour. “Suddenly I'm seeing Comanche medicine men behind every bush.”

“Well, it's better than seeing another dinosaur,” answered Roosevelt.

They'd gone another five miles when Roosevelt looked up at the sky.

“It's going to be twilight in another half hour or so,” he said. “Do you want to find some spot with water for the horses where we can bed down for the night?”

“No,” answered Holliday. “I don't think we have to.”

“Oh? Why not?”

Holliday nodded toward the foliage to the left of the trail. “We've got company.”

T
HEY CONTINUED TO RIDE NORTH
. The Comanche—a dozen to their right, another dozen to their left—walked their horses in the same direction, never getting closer than twenty yards, never moving faster or slower than Holliday and Roosevelt.

“What do they want?” mused Roosevelt aloud.

“Nothing,” replied Holliday. “They know where we're going. They're just making sure we're not the vanguard of a war party.”

“It's making me nervous.”

Holliday smiled. “That's another reason they do it.”

“Oh, well,” said Roosevelt, “at least we won't have to fight off any dinosaurs while they're with us.”

“I don't know,” said Holliday. “I have a feeling only the medicine men, maybe only Tall Bear, can control them.”

“I agree. But Tall Bear won't put his own warriors at risk.”

“Let's hope not,” said Holliday.

They fell silent, and rode another two miles in silence, paced by the Comanche warriors. The ground became more level, the rocks disappeared
and the trees thinned out, and finally they saw an Indian village in the distance.

They got to within a quarter mile of it, and then two of the warriors urged their horses forward and blocked the way.

Holliday and Roosevelt pulled their mounts to a halt.

“What now?” said Holliday. “As if I didn't know.”

The warriors gestured for them to dismount and proceed on foot.

“I'll be too sore and too exhausted to talk once we get there,” complained Holliday, painfully climbing down.

“Oh, come on, Doc,” said Roosevelt, “you walk more than this every day.”

“True,” admitted Holliday. “But not all at once.”

Half a dozen more warriors dismounted and walked silently alongside them.

There was a fire in the middle of the village, and a burly, middle-aged warrior sat before it, bedecked in many of the tokens of his tribe.

“He doesn't take chances, does he?” said Holliday with a smile.

“It's an old African custom too,” said Roosevelt. “Put a double—well, not quite a
double—
out to greet your visitors in case they have any bad intentions. This fellow can't be much more than five feet six when he's standing up. There's no way he can go by the name of Tall Bear.”

“Well, let's pretend we think he is, until they're satisfied we don't mean him any harm. If we ask for the
real
Tall Bear, they'll be sure we're here to kill him.”

“I agree,” said Roosevelt.

They were escorted to the seated Comanche, and then their guides stood back.

“You are Holliday, and you are Roosevelt,” he said.

“That's right,” said Holliday.

“And Geronimo has sent you here to kill me.”

“No,” said Roosevelt. “We're here to reason with you.”

Holliday considered withdrawing his pistol and handing it, butt first, to the Comanche, but decided he'd probably be killed before it cleared his holster. “Have your men disarm us if you're worried.”

“I am not worried,” said a voice from behind them. “Nothing can kill Tall Bear.”

They turned and found themselves facing a tall man, very close to seven feet in height, with a serious scar running from his right collar bone down across his chest to his left hip. His eyes were dark, his cheekbones high, his thick hair hanging down to his shoulders, his expression grim.

“Why have you come to my camp?” he said.

“We have come to bargain,” said Holliday.

“I know of you, Holly-day,” said Tall Bear. “You are a famous killer. Why should I think you have not come to kill me?”

“Three reasons,” said Holliday. “First, if I had come to kill you, you'd be dead already; I'd have fired the second I knew you were Tall Bear. Second, I offered to let your men take my gun away. And third,” he concluded, gesturing toward Roosevelt, “if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't need help.”

Tall Bear stared at him for a long moment, then slowly nodded his head. “Good answers, Holly-day.” He turned to Roosevelt. “I know you too. You are the Roosevelt.”

Roosevelt resisted the urge to correct him and explain that he was
a
Roosevelt. “Yes, I am,” he answered.

“It is you who Goyathlay sought out, among all the White Eyes, to make a treaty with,” continued Tall Bear. “He must think you are an honorable man.”

“I try to be.”

“So the killer and the honorable man have come to me together. Why?”

“I think you know why,” said Holliday.

“You want no more nightmares from the past.”

“That's right.”

“But even
with
them, your men continue to desecrate our sacred ground,” said Tall Bear.

“They're not
our
men,” said Roosevelt.

“But you have lived and worked with them,” said Tall Bear. “Do you think we are not aware of that?”

“I was sent here by Geronimo—by Goyathlay—to try to
stop
them,” said Holliday. “Surely he's not keeping that a secret.”

“And have you stopped them?” said Tall Bear. “The answer is no.”

“No,” admitted Holliday. “We haven't stopped them. And neither have your monsters.”

“But mine
will
.”

Holliday shook his head. “Not a chance. We can only stop them if we work together, and we can only work together if you will trust us.”

“Why should I trust the killer, and the man who signed a treaty that allowed the White Eyes to invade my land?”

“Because you want them to stop desecrating your burial ground, and so far you haven't been able to,” said Roosevelt. “And in your heart, you know we wouldn't be here if we didn't have something to offer.”

“You think to buy the Comanche?” demanded Tall Bear, frowning.

“What we have to offer is a plan,” said Roosevelt.

“Why should I listen?”

“You got anything better to do with your time?” said Holliday, and immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut, certain that such a remark could cause both of their deaths.

Tall Bear stared at him again, even longer this time, and just when Holliday was certain he was going to order his warriors to run them through with their spears, he sighed heavily and said, “No, Holly-day. I have nothing better to do. Tell me what you came to tell me.”

Holliday felt a sense of relief. His first instinct was to reach for his flask and take a swallow, but he realized that if he reached for
any
thing at all he was liable to be minus a hand two seconds later. So he settled for taking a deep breath, trying not to cough, failing, coughing some blood into his handkerchief, and speaking.

“You know the monsters that you have brought forth?” he began. “They are called dinosaurs by my people. And some of my people find them bewitching, and spend their whole lives studying them. The two expeditions—the two groups that are digging up the ground—are led by the two greatest lovers of these dinosaurs.” He paused to make sure Tall Bear was assimilating what he said. “They have come from far to the east—a much greater distance than from here to Goyathlay's camp—to study these creatures.”

“But they did not exist until after they began to tear up the sacred ground,” said Tall Bear, frowning.

“They had no idea they would encounter live dinosaurs,” Roosevelt put in. “Their studies told them that this is a very rich ground for fossils, which is to say, for the bones of long-dead dinosaurs.”

“It is not a rich ground,” said Tall Bear firmly. “We have tried to grow many things, but the ground is poor.”

“It is poor on the surface,” agreed Roosevelt, “but it is rich in the bones of dinosaurs, and that is what they have come here to find.”

“And having found them, they will not go away until they have uncovered them all,” added Holliday.

“Then my monsters will chase them away.”

Holliday shook his head. “Your monsters will bring still more people who love dinosaurs. The thought of seeing living ones will bring them by the dozens, and will bring work crews by the hundreds.”

“Then they shall all die,” said Tall Bear.

“I killed the biggest of them with nothing more than this pistol I
have at my side,” said Holliday. “Look into my heart and tell me if you think I am lying.”

“You speak the truth,” replied Tall Bear promptly. “But you are Holly-day, born to kill with that. Others will not be as skilled.”

“Then they'll hire men who
are
as skilled, or who will use better weapons. It doesn't matter. However many you kill, more will come, once they know what they will be able to see here.”

“We shall see which will be the greater number, my creatures or your killers.”

“They're not
my
killers,” persisted Holliday. “And it won't make any difference who produces more in the end, because in the meantime they're going to be digging up your sacred ground every day.
That
is what we both want to stop, is it not?”

“I will ask the Roosevelt, for he is an honorable man,” said Tall Bear. He turned to Roosevelt. “Does he speak the truth?”

Roosevelt nodded an affirmative. “About all things,” he said. “But mainly, that we want to stop it.”

Tall Bear turned back to Holliday. “You will speak, I will listen.”

“All right,” said Holliday, who wished Tall Bear would sit down and invite him and Roosevelt to do the same, rather than towering above them. “As long as these men think there are things to discover, either live dinosaurs above the ground or dead ones beneath it, they will remain where they are, and they will continue to dig in your sacred ground. You cannot frighten them away with your living nightmares, you can only attract more of them. That is the situation, the basic truth we must address.”

“And how do you propose to address it?

“I can't address it alone,” replied Holliday. “We must do it together.”

Tall Bear made no immediate reply as the firelight flickered off him, and Holliday saw a number of heads peeking out of their huts, staring at the two white men and the medicine man.

At last Tall Bear spoke: “I am still listening.”

“What we have to do is make this area totally worthless to them. There must be no more dinosaurs walking the land. But that is just the first step. We have to convince them that there is nothing of interest here, or at least nothing remaining.”

“And how will you do this?”

“Not
I
,” replied Holliday. “
We
.”

“How will we do this?” said Tall Bear.

Holliday thought he might cough, took out his bloodied handkerchief, and held it to his mouth. Then the urge passed, he settled for merely clearing his throat. “I wasn't sure until we were attacked on the way here.”

“You were not injured. Goyathlay saved you.”

“I know. But it was what happened
after
he saved us that gave me the idea.”

Tall Bear stared at him, but said nothing.

“He turned the dead dinosaur to dust,” continued Holliday. “Not a bone, not a tooth, not a piece of skin remained. All dust.”

“I know this,” said Tall Bear.

Suddenly Roosevelt's eyes widened, to be followed by a huge grin. “The perfect solution!” he exclaimed.

“You are a great medicine man,” continued Holliday, “or you could not have brought the nightmare creatures to life. Surely if Goyathlay could turn one to dust, so can you. The question,” said Holliday, leaning forward, “is this: Is your medicine powerful enough to turn them
all
to dust? Not just those that are alive and walking the Earth, but also the few that Roosevelt and I have killed? And, every bit as important, the bones that they have dug up from your burial ground?”

Tall Bear looked from Holliday to Roosevelt, then back again.

“Yes, I can do this,” he said. “But they will just tear up the sacred ground searching for more bones.”

“Leave that to Roosevelt and me,” said Holliday. “If you will do what I described, you will have no further trouble.”

“Let me be sure I understand,” said Tall Bear. “I must turn every living and every dead creature to dust, both those that have died recently and those that died many lifetimes ago. Is this correct?”

“Yes.”

“And if I do this, they will leave and not return?”

Holliday nodded an affirmative. “Yes.”

“So if I do this right now, they will vanish?”

“No,” said Holliday. “You're not killing them. You're making the land worthless to them. Do this at noon tomorrow, and give Roosevelt and me until noon the next day.”

“If this does not come to pass, I will turn the Roosevelt to dust,” said Tall Bear.

“Just me?” said Roosevelt, frowning.

“Your friend is already dust,” said Tall Bear. “Goyathlay has done for him what I did for the living nightmares.”

“We have a bargain,” said Holliday, trying not to dwell on what the Comanche had just said. “Roosevelt and I will begin riding back to the camp where these men are.”

“I hope what you say comes to pass,” said Tall Bear. “I will give you safe passage as you return to your camp—but if you lied to me, if they have not left by the time and day you promised, there will be an army of nightmares such as you cannot imagine.”