Deadwalker - A Science Fiction Western Adventure (The Coilhunter Chronicles Book 6) by Wilson Dean F

Deadwalker - A Science Fiction Western Adventure (The Coilhunter Chronicles Book 6) by Wilson Dean F

Author:Wilson, Dean F.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dioscuri Press
Published: 2021-10-30T00:00:00+00:00


21 – THE VISITOR

Jimmy Tombthief didn't get a name like that for no reason. He was a “collector” of sorts. Except everything in his collection belonged to someone else. Either he raided the tombs himself or he hired folk to do it for him. Or he bought things on the black market. Those things were worthless to most other folk, except maybe Taberah Cotten's archaeologist brother, but if you needed an extra coil or two, you knew who to offload your stolen graveyard treasures to.

​No one quite knew how Jimmy Tombthief made his money. If anything, he seemed to spend rather than earn it. Some folk said his Authentic Antiques Assembly was just a front. Some folk said he was involved with drug-dealing, importing elaborate eyeboxes and selling Hope with a capital H in the Burg. Some folk said he had a deal with the Black Silk Collective. Some folk said the Coilhunter paid him to be a spy. You see, that's why you couldn't believe what some folk said.

​ And few believed the stories about the deadwalkers, just like few believed the stories about the Clockwork Commune. Sometimes you had to go there. Sometimes you had to see them for yourself. Well, lucky for you then, sitting comfy at home. You see, the dead would come to you.

​“There's someone bangin' on the window, Jimmy,” Mariah, Jimmy Tombthief's wife, called out.

​“Send 'em away. I ain't takin' no visitors.”

​“I'm scared to go out, Jimmy. Can you not do it?”

​Jimmy pounded in from the kitchen, still clutching a half-eaten chicken leg. “Do I have to do everything around here? I oughta trade you in for a younger model, Mariah. After what happened to Jennifer, I'm not sure what you're good for.”

​He pulled the curtain back violently, and shrieked. He dropped that chicken leg, and his own legs buckled. There, at the window, was little Jennifer. Little, dead Jennifer, with that rope still around her neck.



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