Wild by Lincoln Crisler Read Free Book Online Page A

shotgun and had fallen to the ground with the ax buried in his head.
    Oliver yelled and ran across the valley, firing two revolvers. Another of the attackers went down, but a fourth swung his ax into the old outlaw’s shoulder. Oliver fell, and one of the dead, who had lost its footing and tumbled into the valley ahead of its comrades, crawled over to him and dove face-first into his flesh. Liquid tearing sounds and Oliver’s howls could be heard over the noise of the slow moving dead and remaining living attackers.
    One of the men stopped and whirled a sling around his head. Matt fired and saw blood fly from the man’s head just as he cast loose his ammunition. A small, leather pouch sailed through the air and hit the ground at Juan’s feet. It rolled into the campfire, and Juan tackled Tom to the ground, yelling for the others to get down.
    The fire exploded, flinging Matt and Jim into the air. Matt hit the ground, rolled, and came up with both guns blazing. The last armed attacker fell to the ground in a burst of blood, brains and bone.
    Then the dead were upon them.
    The hammers of Matt’s guns fell on empty cylinders as the first creature knelt for him, maw gaping. He swept the legs out from under the corpse and it landed in a tangled heap. Matt holstered his guns, crawled for what was left of Big Steve, and tried to pull the shotgun from under him. It was stuck beneath the outlaw’s bulk. He spun around on his knees, digging at his belt for fresh rounds. Another creature stood over him, reaching—
    Its head disappeared in a fine mist.
    Gore splattered Matt’s face as the thing fell beside him. He wiped the viscera from his face and saw Black Tom. The outlaw grinned at him as he blasted the first attacker, who had been struggling to its feet.
    “Bet you didn’t expect that,” Tom said, helping Matt roll Steve over to get the shotgun. “Now you can pay me back. I need to reload.”
    Matt let loose with the shotgun, dropping two more of the creatures with two shots. He cracked the barrel and patted Steve’s pockets. Luckily, the man was carrying more rounds. Matt grabbed a handful, reloaded the shotgun, and climbed to his feet. Juan and Jim were standing nearby, laying waste to the things coming down the hill and yelling orders to one another. A few minutes later, the dead and twice-dead were strewn about.
    “We did it again, pardner!” Tom cried. He slapped Juan on the back as the four men clustered together. He pulled the flask from his back pocket, took a long pull and passed it around to everyone, even Fancy Jim. No one refused.
    “Don’t celebrate just yet,” Matt said, pointing up at the nearest hilltop.
    A small, dark figure stood there, waving a staff and screaming inarticulately. Matt aimed his revolver and fired a couple shots, but they missed. The little man scrambled back down the other side, out of sight.
    “His ass is mine,” Tom yelled, and ran up the hill after. A few minutes later he scrambled back down the way he’d come.
    “Son of a bitch disappeared. Like...like magic.”
    “I’d lay odds that there was our hechicero , ” Matt said. “And now we’re back at square one.”
    “Wish I could help you,” Jim said, lighting a cigarette. “And please, no funny stuff. We met one of the wizard’s guys outside a bar in El Paso, probably the same one you met Tom in. That’s all I can tell you.”
    “Damnit,” Matt said, smacking a fist into his thigh. “We were so close!”
    “Wait a minute,” Juan said, walking towards one of the dead Indians. “This man is wearing a pack.” He stripped the pack from the man’s back and dumped it out onto the dusty ground.
    Matt knelt beside Juan. The two men pawed through the contents of the pack, but there was nothing but some food, a knife, clothing and a pair of boots. “Still nothing.” He cursed and dropped his head into his hands.
    “ Señor ,” Juan said, holding up the boots. “I can’t promise anything, but I swear I’ve