It was dusk when he rode into town.
The sun was slipping sulkily out of the sky, a crimson trail marking its path as the heat of the day gave way to the cool chill of the desert evening.
The horse nudged its way past an unmanned gate and onto the hard packed dirt road that passed as a main street, its hooves beating a staccato rhythm in time with the distant cry of the vultures.
Cole let his gaze drift up and down the street, taking in the flaking sun-bleached paint on each of the storefronts, the bang of a shutter from somewhere in the distance, the complete absence of human life. "Ghost town," he declared, his raspy voice parched and dry. The horse whinnied, stamping one foot in answer to its masters words. "Stay here." Cole said, slipping easily to the ground at its side. "I want to see if there's anything to drink in this hole. Maybe some food."
Cole hopped up onto the raised floor that presented itself before a narrow entrance.
FINE GOODS, a sign declared in pinkish letters that had once been bold and blooded in a royal red, swinging lopsided on a single hinge above a thin door.
"Anything left in this place?" Cole mused as he pushed his way inside. He was aware that he had taken to speaking to himself, but not concerned. The desert had a way of doing that to you. He had walked the dry lands for several months now and with little or no companionship of any kind, found or wanted, Cole was slipping back into old patterns and routines like a comfortable set of leathers.
The interior of the store was musty. Dark. Shelves lined the walls, still showing some goods from the days when the town had been alive. Hardly well-stocked, there were long empty spaces full of nothing but dust, but there was enough here to cause Coles sunburnt face to break into a smile. Pulling off his hat, Cole stepped forward and snatched up a can from nearby. Peaches. "Gotta be good," Cole announced, satisfied. He glanced around. Beans. Peas. Tomato Soup. Ham. All tinned and perfectly preserved. There were some packets in a fridge unit which Cole ignored, knowing that time and lack of power would have reduced anything in there to a dry husk of mould. "Enough here for weeks," Cole declared, unslinging his shoulder sack to began packing the edible treasures.
"You might want to stand still, mister,'' came a voice from behind him. Cole stood still. She was a girl, that much was obvious. Her voice sounded young, feminine. Cole wasn't stupid. Any girl that survived out here, in the middle of the wasteland, wouldn't hesitate to blow his head clean off his shoulders. "I don't want no trouble,'' Cole said, not moving, making no effort to turn around. If the girl was armed, Cole didn't want to make her any more nervous than she may already be.
"You sure seem to want it," the girl said. Cole heard her light footsteps approaching from the rear of the building. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Cole was angry with himself. He should have checked the area before grabbing the booty. Was he getting careless? Complacent in his wandering? The girl continued, "you come into my store and you' gonna start helping yourself to my stuff. That sounds like trouble to me."
"I thought this was a ghost town," Cole explained, carefully.
"It is," the girl said coldly, "I'm a ghost."
"Right." Cole shifted his weight slightly. It was a practised move, leaving his body at a better angle to snatch his sword from its sheath in one easy movement. If he was going to die, it would be with a blade in his hand. His gun rested on the other hip, but Cole knew that was pointless. The time it would take to set the weapons charge, spin, aim and fire would likely be enough for even a poor opponent to plug him six or seven times. No, the sword was his only chance.
"Don't you be gettin' no ideas, mister," the girl warned him. "I see that hog-sticker on your hip. I know what you fancy men can do with a blade like that. I see you so much as twitch towards it, I'll empty my charge right into the back of your head."
Cole heard the power-up of a laser weapon, its low hum filling the air like the ominous buzz of a large stinging insect. "Okay, take it easy," Cole said, keeping his voice level, although his heart was beating hard. It was a long time since he'd been in any sort of conflict. He was rusty. Tired. He felt old.
"Miss," Cole said, with a sigh, "you got me here. Now what you gonna do with me? If you're gonna shoot, shoot. If you ain't, can I turn around and see what the hell you are?"
There was silence for a moment. Then, "sure. Turn. But slowly. Keep your hands high in the air."
Cole nodded, raising his arms, and began to twist, when the butt of something hard smashed into the side of his head and his mind went as black as the desert night.
When he woke he was lying on a hard bed of some kind. The air was chilly. It had to be late in the evening now, maybe even early morning. Cole could feel the icy touch on his skin. He went to rub some warmth in, but found himself restrained. Several loops of thick rope held him flat on the bench. Cole lay still, collecting his thoughts, ignoring the dull ache in his forehead and the side of his neck where he had been struck. In the darkness, he was aware of the sound of breathing from somewhere off to the side.
"Are you here?" Cole asked.
"Yes," she said.
Cole twisted his head, trying to see her. In the shadows she was a silhouette, sitting in a chair against the far wall. Watching him. "Why'd you hit me?"
"I don't know you mister," she answered simply. "You got some fancy damn weapons. Didn't like the look of 'em. 'Cept maybe, if they was mine."
"You're robbing me?" Cole asked.
"Maybe," the girl said. "Why not? I could kill you."
"I know," Cole replied. "But I ain't done nuthin' to you, miss. I'm just a wanderer."
The girl was silent for a while. "So you say."
Outside, the sound of coyotes split the night, their howls echoing across the sands. Then, another sound, deeper, stranger, like an agonised groan from some huge beast.
"They're on the prowl tonight, then?" Cole asked. He wasn't talking about the dogs.
The desert was a dangerous place at night. Cole had been here long enough to know why.
"Yes," the girl said. "Hunting."
"You should be getting underground," Cole pointed out. "They'll come into a town like this."
"I will," the girl said. "We got us some time yet. Not much. But some. I'm thinking."
"About what?" Cole asked. He thought he knew. He hoped he knew.
"Should I take you with me? Or leave you here for them?"
"You don't owe me a damn thing, miss," Cole acknowledged, "but I'd sure appreciate you not leaving me like that. If I've gotta die, then use your weapon on me now. Or if you want to save the charge, then a knife will work just as well."
"How do I know you ain't something else. Something different from what you seem?" the girl asked.
"I guess you don't, miss."
"There's more than just them out in the desert. I seen me some things," the girl said. "Men what come into town, then change. Into coyotes. Into vultures."
"I know," Cole said. "But I'm not one of them. I'm human. Like you."
Cole could feel the weight of the girls stare, peering at him through the shadows. He kept silent. Didn't want to say too much. She might leave him. Cole was in no hurry to die.
"Wait," the girl said. She rose to her feet, picked something up, moved his way. With a few pulls on well-crafted knots the ropes holding him down loosened and Cole sat up, rubbing at his sore neck. The girl was holding two guns, her original weapon and his high-energy pistol. She thumbed both into charge and levelled them at his chest. "Get up. Go. Quickly."
Cole could see her now. Drenched in the darkness of the night she was, nevertheless, beautiful. Raven hair hung in tangled curls around her waist. Large, baleful, dark eyes regarded him suspiciously. Her body was young, but strong and fit. Cole felt his heart quicken. It had been a long time since he had been with a girl. But now was not the time to be thinking of such things. She could still kill him. Likely, if he were to show such interests, she would. A girl like this would have had a difficult time in the desert in recent years, when desperate men had still come here. Before they arrived. Besides, Cole had no blinkered view of himself. A haggard traveller, there was little in him to attract a female in these sorry days.
The girl prodded him in the back with both guns, pushing Cole out of the door and down the stairs. He walked quickly, hearing the howls again, and the other sound. He had seen it once. It's red eyes, each as large as his head, it's hot mouth wide, gaping, able to swallow him whole. But Cole had hidden underground, where it would not go. That was when there had only been one. Before it had spawned. Now there could be many. Far too many.
"Move," the girl said. She sounded nervous. The first sign of weakness he had heard in her voice. Cole knew why. They had left this too long. The sound came again. Outside town. But not far outside. "Where is your pit?" Cole asked urgently.
"Not far," the girl said, her voice faltering.
"Shoot if you like," Cole told her, "but we have to run."
"Okay," the girl said. The guns were gone from his back. Then she pulled his arm, spinning him around. She pressed his own pistol into his hand, tightly. "You mess with me, I'll kill you too. I promise,'' she said bitterly. Cole simply nodded. He believed her.
At a fast run the two dark figures moved along the back of a row of stores. Somewhere in the distance, Cole guessed it was the town gate, Cole heard a loud bang and the tortured splintering of wood. Unable to comprehend the idea of an actual entrance, they tended to come straight through fences instead. It was why underground was safe. Even as large and as powerful as they were, they couldn't walk through solid earth.
The girl jumped down a small flight of steps and was running along a dirt path that lead towards a shack in the distance. Cole recognised the ancient iron machinery and half-torn fencing for what it was. A mine. We can make it, he thought. His heart fell as a horse, probably his horse, made a sound that an animal should never make, somewhere much closer.
The girl stopped short, breathing hard, directly in front of a rickety wooden door. She pulled a key from her pocket and jammed it into the rusty padlock. "Just give me a second," she said. "Its old. It gets a bit stiff."
Very close now, the rumbling roar was followed by another. And another.
"We haven't got very many more seconds," Cole pointed out, urgently.
"S'okay," the girl said, "I got it."
The lock fell away in her hand and she pulled the door open. The darkness beyond was thick as soot, the descent into the mine a gaping maw of shadow. "This way," she told him, and slipped inside. Cole followed her, pulling the door closed behind him, dropping them into utter blackness so dense that he was unable to see his hand in front of his face. "There are stairs," she said, "they're narrow. Be careful. Here," she paused, a little uncertain, then, "take my hand."
Feeling her firm grip, Cole allowed himself to be led down, down, down into the mine.
Each step, Cole could feel the earth above him pressing down, crushing him in. Cole fought the feeling. He knew his fears and knew how to cope with them. Nevertheless, his nerves were wearing thin.
After a while the stairs ended and the girl pulled her hand free of his. "Wait," she said. There was the sound of some searching about, then the spark of a match. The room filled with a pale light as the candle caught and held its tiny flame. Cole sighed relief.
They were standing in a small room. There were some rugs on the floor. A pile of tins and a couple of bottles of water. Several candles in a metal box. Some blankets. "Home sweet home," she said, "at least for tonight." Cole glanced down at her gun, still held in her grip, but now pointing at the floor. She shrugged. "If you wanted to kill me, you were behind me the whole time with a weapon. If you want anything... else," she paused, "then we'll both die. So I figure I'm at least as safe as you are."
Cole sat down on one of the rugs and rubbed at his head. He could feel flakes of dried blood there and his neck was stiff. "I'm sorry about that," the girl said. She didn't sound sorry.
"I would have done the same," Cole told her. "Thanks for letting me go."
"And about the horse..." the girl added, her voice showing more remorse this time.
"She was old," Cole said, a little sadly, "chances are I would have eaten her sooner or later anyway."
With little more to say, Cole and the girl settled down to sleep. "You can tie me up again if you like," Cole said, "if it makes you feel safer. If it helps you sleep."
The girl thought about it. "Nope," she said. "No need."
"Okay," Cole shrugged.
He lay on his rug, pulled his blanket over him, and tried to ignore the thought of the girls body just a few feet away, as sleep came to claim him.
Cole awoke some time later. He swore silently. The hunger was in him. Eating away at his belly. Insidious. Briefly, he tried to fight it. But not for long. He knew there was no escape when it came. Why now? Cole liked the girl. He hadn't had company for a long time. He had nothing against her. He didn't want to do it at all. But it was there inside of him. Larger than life. Snarling and slavering and gnashing its teeth. He had no choice. He was trapped down here with her, no way of taking his hunger outside. Carefully, slowly, Cole rose to his feet.
The change gripped him ferociously. Shuddering and trembling with excitement and self-disgust in joint proportions, Cole felt his skin tighten, his bones crack and reshape, a thick downy fur sprout from his flesh. He felt his jaw lengthen, his vision snap to a different level. Still silent, Cole grew. Muscles became more sinewy and taut. His eyes gained a faintly reddish hue, with the savage glare of the predator.
When Cole looked at the girl again, there was no compassion. That was gone. She was meat. Nothing more. He would feed and his hunger would be sated. He glanced down at her, every instinct telling him to rend, to tear, to eat.
And she was looking back at him.
"Coyote," she said. "I thought you said you were human."
Cole could not answer. Didn't care what she was saying. In this form he was the beast. There was nothing more. He knew the pistol in her hand was dangerous, but the need in his gut was too strong... his faint alarm meant less than nothing now.
The girl let the pistol drop to the rug. She opened her arms. "Go on then," she said. "Do it. You have to. I know that."
The Beast stepped forward, jaws parting to lunge inwards and tear the life from her throat. But it paused. Tilted its head slightly. The prey would sometimes give in, hopeless and lost, yes, but it had never seen this. No fear. Nothing.
"Go on," the girl said. There was even a slight smile on her face. "Y'all got the hunger. You got to feed."
Deep inside the beast Cole was confused, but his mind was lost in the turmoil of the animal. Unable to resist any longer he slashed with savage jaws, already tasting the warmth of her hot blood on his lips. He saw red as he closed in for the kill... sharp teeth so near to her white throat.
A sudden pain caused him to rear back in agony. Something hot was burning its way down his back, something that seared a trail of pain along his spine. Howling angrily Cole pulled back, trying to see what had wounded him. The girl rose up slowly, watching with satisfaction as he fell to the ground, whining and yelping and crying in agony.
She was taller now. And different. Her skin was thinner. Chitinous bones seemed to be trying to push their way through. Her eyes had lost their depth, become little more than pinpoints of hatred. A long, arched tail curved from behind her, high over her head, tipped with a wicked barb that dripped poison from its tip. "Scorpion," Cole gasped, feeling the beast flee now in his hour of need. The poison was coursing through his veins. He was dying.
"I told you I was a ghost," the girl said. "I may as well be dead." She stepped forward, her posture now oddly bent, hunched, strange.
"Sooner or later," Cole gasped, the animal gone, his human form returned, "we all come to this. Kill or be killed. Do what you have to, miss."
"I will," she said, no sadness in her voice, although it sat there deeply in her soul, "I will."
In the morning she buried what was left of him. She wanted to say a few words, but there was no god over this land. Just loneliness. Pain. And survival. She gazed out over the sands, then back at the town she had called home for too long. Perhaps, she thought, it was time to move on.
High above, the sun was already burning a blistering arc on its daily journey towards the distant horizon. It was going to be another hot day in the desert.