In the Lair of Legends by David Buzan

Author:David Buzan [Buzan, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2023-08-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Interestingly enough, for all his psychotic personality faults, Captain Walker turned out be an expert balloon pilot. Even with more unexpected wind gusts, he landed the Excelsior with absolute precision on the grassy hill overlooking the row of Parrott mountain cannons.

From their vantage point on the hill, Winterhawk could clearly see the funeral pyre that he had left burning just two days ago. Mercifully, that fire had completely burned itself out. All that was left was blackened hunks of wood, tattered strips of uniforms, and a large, haphazard pile of…

Bones.

Winterhawk felt the hard, insistent jab of a gun barrel probing against the small of his back. It was Walker, impatiently prompting him with his pistol. He glanced over at Toomey, noticing that he had both hands resting firmly on the grips of his guns. “Think of the locket in the possession of Captain Isbell. What happens to your wife and daughter is your responsibility now.”

Toomey grabbed the balloon’s mooring line and cast it down the hill. He climbed out of the Excelsior and made his way to the Parrott cannons, choosing one of the barrels to tie the mooring line onto.

When the balloon was secure, Toomey glanced back up at Captain Walker and nodded.

Winterhawk once again felt the prodding of the gun against his back.

“Hope your memory is as long as my willy,” Walker said. “I would hate for you to forget where you buried things out here.”

Winterhawk nodded. “It’s close, Walker. We’re not far.” He gingerly raised both his arms, carefully stepping over the balloon basket and onto the hill.

He noticed the bodies of the Zouave mercenaries. They were definitely more like carcasses now; meat nearly stripped to the bone, with large tufts of hair still attached to their skulls.

“Lead the way, soldier!” Toomey barked.

Winterhawk began to stride purposefully down the hill, making sure that his movements were measured and controlled. He didn’t want to give either man an excuse to put a bullet in his leg.

After two full days of baking beneath the sun, the Goose now looked like a battlefield antique. It was broken in three distinct halves, its metal shell completely sheared from the multiple explosions and the heat.

Winterhawk walked a path that was parallel with the tracks, taking his armed escorts passed the yawning open door of the empty boxcar.

He forced himself not to look at the passenger car as they passed it. He could make out the blood-splashed interior in his peripheral vision, while his nose could still barely detect the horrific stench of burned flesh and hair.

“How much further?” Walker asked. His voice cracked a little. The horrific imagery of what he just glimpsed must have gotten to him.

Winterhawk set his jaw.

Good.

“Not far now.” He threw a brief glance back over his shoulder, feigning a look of wide-eyed helplessness at his two captors. “Once you get your hands on the gold, you promise that my wife and daughter…now, they really won’t be harmed?”

He could hear the wind whistle briefly between Toomey’s teeth before he answered.

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