1899- Journey to Mars Read online

The two stopped. “For what?” one of them asked.

  “For this.” Billy’s hand was a blur and Pat’s hand followed his a mere fraction of a second afterward. Two loud reports echoed across the yard.

  A hole appeared in the chests of each of the strange men. They looked down at the holes over where their hearts should have been, regarded each other for a moment, and turned back to Billy and Pat. They began walking forward again, their long paces covering much ground.

  Billy looked at Pat. “What are the odds?”

  Billy and Pat began firing in tandem.

  Five holes each filled their chests before the gunfire ceased and the forward saunter likewise ended.

  Pat turned to Billy. “Head shot?”

  “Why not.”

  They raised their pistols, took dead aim and fired as one.

  A hole opened in the center of each stranger’s forehead and the two toppled backwards into the dust, their bowler hats rolling away.

  “That ought to show them,” Pat said.

  The two figures writhed in the dust as if powerful electrical currents ran through their rangy bodies. One sat upright, followed by the other a few moments after.

  “Shit,” Billy said.

  “Reminds me of robots,” Pat said, and spat.

  “Reload,” Billy said as he opened the loading gate of his Colt and pulled bullets from his belt. Pat did the same.

  The two gained their feet.

  “I’m powerful glad they haven’t drawn on us yet,” Pat stated.

  “Don’t give ‘em any ideas,” Billy whispered. “But maybe they don’t know how to shoot anyway.”

  “Let’s not test it,” Pat said.

  The two men flipped the loading gates closed as they brought their guns on target. Each man emptied his revolver into the head of the strange demons at point blank range, and the two toppled backwards once more into the dirt.

  Guthrie stepped between Billy and Pat. “Sir,” he said. “If you are inclined, I will hold these two off while you bring the horseless carriage.”

  Billy said, “You’re still banged up, Guthrie. Can you handle them?”

  “I believe so, Billy.”

  “Okay.”

  Guthrie said, “I would suggest a rapid departure, though.”

  “For where?” Pat Garrett asked. “I’m for standing my ground.”

  “For Mars,” Guthrie said.

  [ 7 ]

  Ekka emerged from the house and ran to Billy, throwing her arms around him.

  “I’m all right, darlin’. But I think we’ll be foregoing lunch today. Get your bags. We’re headed for the Argent. Now.”

  Ekka nodded and darted back inside the house.

  “Come on, Pat. I hope Guthrie can hold these two off. Let’s get the car ready. You crank the handle while I fire her up.”

  The two men turned to see the singletons rise once more to their feet. Their heads resembled the holed tops of pepper shakers.

  “Maybe...just maybe,” Pat began, “I’ll come along with you.”

  [ 8 ]

  Guthrie stood facing the two singletons. His eyes focused minutely on the skin of their necks. He did an internal calculation, then shifted his feet and held up both of his hands to assume a martial arts stance.

  “We’ve seen that,” one of the two stated. “We’re not impressed.”

  “Oh,” Guthrie said. “But you haven’t seen this.”

  Guthrie folded three of his fingers on each hand under his thumbs to leave his forefingers sticking up in the air.

  “So?” the other singleton said.

  “That wasn’t it,” Guthrie said. “You have to wait for it.”

  “We’re waiting.”

  “Watch.”

  The two forefingers folded and extruded, lengthening to become what appeared to be two blades.

  “We’re still waiting,” the other singleton said.

  “Okay,” Guthrie said. “Here goes.”

  He stepped forward, drew his arms together and slashed outward as fast as lightning. The heads of the two separated from their shoulders and fell to the dirt, yards away. The two beheaded bodies stood for a moment, then tumbled backwards to the ground.

  Guthrie stepped away from the blood pool.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” one of the heads stated.

  “No,” the other one said. “Not nice at all.”

  “It’s nothing compared to this,” Guthrie said, and kicked one of the heads. It sailed a hundred yards through the air, hit the gate post and tumbled into the sparse grass at the edge of the road beyond.

  “Wide,” the remaining head stated. “Wide and to the right.”

  “I’ll do better next time,” Guthrie said. He kicked again, and this time the remaining head sailed the distance and struck the sign over the gate that declared “GOSTMAN” in broad, burned-in letters. The sign looped over the top horizontal pole and fell back into place with a rattle.

  Guthrie gathered up the two bodies, dragged them to the horse trough and pitched them inside.

  He wiped his hands on his trousers.

  The horseless carriage, with Pat in the front passenger seat and Billy driving, pulled up by the front porch.

  “Where’d they go?” Billy asked.

  “They went their separate ways,” Guthrie replied.

  Ekka came out of the house with two bags.

  “Did you ever yearn to travel?” she asked Pat Garrett.

  [ 9 ]

  “I think I need to know exactly what is going on,” Pat said.

  “Okay. It’s like this,” Billy said. He pointed. “You see those?”

  The car passed two huge metal cones sitting on three legs. Atop of each was a round, drum-like contraption. Each was about as large as a horse stable.

  “Yeah. What are they?”

  “Lights. Bright lights. They’re only useful at night. I use them for signalling.”

  “Signalling whom?” Pat asked. “And where?”

  “Morse code messages. To an old friend we left on the Moon.”

  “Koothrappally? You told me about him. You’re signalling him on the Moon?”

  “He ain’t on the Moon anymore.”

  “On Mars, then,” Pat said, “since that’s where you said you were going.”

  “Right. On Mars. Like I told you, I had time to think after we got back. I got to studying on it, and I wanted to know what was left of that alien base on the Moon. So I got me a little telescope. I had to figure out where we had landed from charts and things, and I found it, but I couldn’t make out heads or tails. They don’t make telescopes for the common people that can see well enough to make out any detail. And I wanted detail, Pat. I wanted detail badly. That fellow...Koothrappally. He laid down his life—or so we all thought—so that the rest of us could escape. At the time he was in the hands of those four-armed aliens. So, I got me a bigger telescope.”

  The car crested a hill and Pat Garret saw something large and rust-colored in the distance. He tried to make out what it was, but it disappeared from view too quickly.

  “I’ll bet that took some doing.”

  “Billy had help,” Ekka said.

  “Tesla,” Pat said. “Right?”

  “That’s right. His money, his robots.”

  “And your ingenuity,” Pat said.

  “I don’t know what you’d call it. My...somethin’. Anyway, so I got me an eight- inch telescope and looked at where we landed on the Moon. Mare Tranquilitatis—the Sea of Tranquility. There wasn’t much to see, other than those little alien ships coming and going from time to time. I knew they were there. I watched them for awhile and began laying my plans to build another spaceship.”

  “Like the Arcadia,” Pat said.

  “Oh. Better than the Arcadia. Better by miles.”

  “So how did you find Koothrappally on Mars?”

  Billy laughed. “I got to looking at the night sky and trying to figure. There’s only two or three places to go and disappear from the Moon. O
ne’s the other side of the Moon. Well, you can’t look there, no matter what. The other is here on Earth. So I started getting newspapers mailed to me from all over the world. I about gave the local postmaster fits.”

  “What were you looking for?”

  “Something. Anything. Strange things seen in the sky. Any tales of four-armed or four-legged men. Anything weird.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “Nothing,” Billy said. “Nothing of note. So I got to looking at the only other place besides the other side of the Moon and the Earth.”

  “Ah. I see. Mars.”

  “I spent about a year on it,” Billy said.

  “Damned right he did,” Ekka said. “Every clear night. I didn’t sleep much that year.”

  “And you saw something,” Pat said. “You saw a light.”

  “I did. My friend, Dr. Lowell helped me with getting maps and charts and the right kind of telescope. Otherwise I may never have found him.”

  “Lowell, you say?” Pat asked. “You mean, Percival Lowell? The Percival Lowell?”

  “That’s the fellow. Anyway, I saw flashes of light on Mars. The flashes kept repeating themselves every so often. It was Morse. Once I did and got the message, I knew it was my friend and where he was. That’s when I got the spotlights delivered. They came all the way from the Chicago Worlds Fair.”

  “Well I’ll be damned. You are one resourceful son of a bitch,” Pat said. He turned to the back seat. “Guthrie, is there any chance those two are going to follow us?”

  “Not until they get their heads straightened out. That may take awhile.”

  Pat nodded, then turned back to the front.

  The Argent hove into view.

  “Well,” Pat said. “Now I really will be damned.”

  [ 10 ]

  Eddie Burroughs was in an agitated state when the horseless carriage stopped beside the Argent. He trotted to Billy before anyone could exit the vehicle and pushed a paper at him, “There’s big trouble, Billy. We may be too late.”

  “Hold up a bit, Eddie. Let me read it.” Everyone exited the vehicle and Billy read the note while standing beside it. Eddie moved his weight from one foot to the other. When Billy looked at his companions, his face was grim.

  “Where did you come by this note, Mr. Burroughs?” Billy asked.

  “It was delivered by a robot from the next ranch over. Apparently your neighbor picked it up when he went to the post office in town this morning. Everybody knows who you are, apparently.”

  “Well. It looks like the schedule has changed” Billy said.

  Ekka said, “What is the news?”

  “They’re hanging Avi in the morning.”

  Pat said, “And exactly where is he?”

  Ekka said, “Ceylon.”

  “Near India? There’s no way,” Pat said.

  Billy tapped the paper against his leg and said, “It’s about ten thousand miles from here to there.”

  Guthrie said, “Pardon me, Billy, but the distance is less than that in a straight path. It is closer to nine thousand nine hundred ninety miles.”

  “Thank you for correcting me.”

  “I am always here to help.”

  Ekka glanced at Billy, “Guthrie, what is the approximate time difference between here and Colombo, Ceylon?”

  “They are approximately twelve hours ahead of our time.”

  Billy pulled his pocket watch, “It’s a little after one AM tomorrow morning there. That means we have about five hours to get there.”

  “That’s impossible.” Garrett said.

  Billy said, “Eddie, what is left to put on board?”

  “Just us. I loaded everything you and Ekka had on the list.”

  Billy turned to his tall friend, “You coming Pat?”

  Pat kicked dirt and looked at the spaceship “I lost my sand when we were in San Antone on the Arcadia and I made you put me on the ground. I always regretted not going with you.” Pat narrowed his eyes at Billy, grinned, and turned his face skyward as he said, “Oh, hell, I’m in! Let me get my bags.”

  Guthrie said, “Allow me, Pat.” The robot was at the horseless carriage and headed back with the bags before Garrett could voice an objection.

  Billy said, “Say adios to Waco, folks. It may be awhile before we get back.”

  Dakota put his foot on the step and looked at his parents with a huge grin, “We’re going on an adventure!”

  Guthrie said, “Dakota, would you be kind enough to ride the bicycle and recharge me when we are in stable flight?”

  “Sure, Guthrie! Come on!”

  Billy said, “Guthrie, I’ll be makng repairs to you while we’re in transit. And I’ve got some ideas for a few little additions to your bag of tricks. I’ll add them.”

  “Most excellent, Billy. I appreciate your attention to my deficiencies.”

  [ 11 ]

  At twenty-four years of age, Avinash Rathmandu Joseph was ready for his life to come to an end. He had begun to fear that he might not die, and this new revelation engendered a great deal of anxiety. His body was deeply bruised and battered in many places, such that he dared not move. His joints were swollen and painful. He had become...thin. There was an English word for the condition, but it escaped him. Avi, as his family and friends called him, could no longer feel the pain in his stomach. At first it had been a hunger more powerful than any sensation he had ever felt. But like all things, it had arisen and eventually passed over him like the waves of the sea. The hunger was now gone, as was any hope that he might see daylight again. There was only the light when they came for him and took him to the room a few feet away. There the torture sessions continued. The sessions seemed as though they were weeks apart, but Avi suspected they were actually every few days. His sense of time, like his hunger, had...departed. There was only the water—he could hardly recall drinking water, but he dreamed of it as he dreamed of food and the faces of his family—and breathing. Avi could smell nothing—not even his own stink.

  A hard clang on his cell door made Avi jerk, and the movement opened the long, oozing gash on his hip again. The scarred face of the Chief Guard showed in the small, barred opening. He smiled, and it was not a nice smile. “Avi, the hanging of your person is to be accomplishing with the morning. What a joyous day it will be. And for more news of happiness I am telling you of the happenings of your father. It was seeming, on my visit to his home, his weakness caused his face to be falling in the pot of potato curry and cooking was accomplished all the way to his demise. I thought I would leave you in thinking of your faceless father as the hanging man’s hour comes.”

  Avi’s heart filled with grief and he sobbed, although there was not enough moisture in his body for tears. It is my ending, then. I will be the son unable to avenge his father’s spirit. His despair was total, and he slumped to the rough stone floor, curling into a ball, waiting for the coming dawn, and the noose.

  When the female voice called to him, Avi thought he was dreaming. Then he heard it again, faint, coming from a finger-wide crack in the wall between his cell and the next.

  “Avi.”

  Avi put his mouth near the crack and said, “Who are you?”

  “Me name’s Bixie Cottontree. I be wit yah on the gallows tomorrow.”

  Avi thought her accent was British, but with a melodic lilt. “Why are you to die?”

  “They be callin’ me a witch, yah, and that is enough for dem.”

  She sounded young, younger than Avi. He said, “I am sorry for your dying tomorrow.”

  Bixie said, “Don’t ye be despairin’, Avi mon. We won’t be two puppets dancin’at the end of British twine, I tell yah. Bruddah Death be flyin’ from de sky tomorrow, but not for us.”

  Avi was happy to hear a voice, but now he knew this woman was insane. Death flying from the sky? Craziness. Still, it was good to hear someone talking to him in a kind voice. He asked, “Where are you from?”

  “The far side of the world; Jamaica.”

  “Ho
w do you come to Ceylon?”

  “It’s a long story, Avi. I was kidnapped. I’ll be tellin’ them complete to yah in the future, when ever-ting’s irie.”

  “Your kidnappers sent you to this prison?”

  “The kidnappers be long sleepin’ wit Day-vee Jones, and dat is part of dah story. I’m here because I’m good at healin’ the sick ones on dis island. The noble British doctors of Colombo were jealous, and sent dem poisonous words to the Chancellor, sayin’ that I practiced Voduo.”

  “Do you?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “And that is punishable by the hanging of you?”

  “Dats me sentence mon: to hang beside the traitor Avinash Rathmandu in dah mornin’. But I tell you, Avi, death be comin’ to save us. We’ll not be perishin’tomorrow. Now, get some rest. Dis talk be makin’ me throat more tirr-stee dan I already was. I will walk wit you in the morning.”

  Avi didn’t answer. She was crazy, there was no doubt. But he felt better after talking and listening to her, and a small thread of hope wormed its way into him. He prayed that this Voduo Witch from the far side of the world was a true prophet of tomorrow. He lay his head on the stones and went to sleep.

  [ 12 ]

  John Carter stood at the bow of the gray, sleek airship as the keel tickled the top leaves of Ceylon’s jungle canopy while it sailed a silent path through the moonlit night. The gray blimp above the deck was almost invisible in the night. John glanced at the eight large, woven baskets lined along the gunwales, then looked into the distance for landmarks. The gray hull, sails, and dirigible of the Wraith blended in the night sky so well as to be almost invisible, and the large propellers behind the ship’s rudder were feathered to no more sound than a soft summer breeze through trees.

  It was stealth John Carter was after, and he was an expert at it. The ship, the planning, the men in his crew, they were all hand-picked and extensively trained in every aspect he knew. They studied and practiced the secrets of the Neen-jahs, the black-pajama wearing, deadly warriors of the Japanese Islands, and the fierce ghosts of the American Southwest desert, the Apaches. He had them read volumes on the tactics of ambush and attack ranging from Alexander the Great to Arminius and Hannibal, to those of the Bengal Lancers and the tactics he learned at West Point. The crew was, to a man, formidable, and none more so than the red-headed, grinning Scottish Highlander approaching him now.