#1 Devil in the Rain pt.1

[jackalope]

Ultimate Jonah Hex #1
Devil in the Rain pt.1

The faint buzzing, the sound of light rain on the electricity line towers, marked the approach to New Turlington. Jonah Hex tilted his hat up from over his eyes and looked at it. The weaving grid of towers and power cables. He'd heard that most of the Dome Cities had wireless energy that flowed in and around the very air the dome folk breathed. Jonah preferred the idea of it sticking to the cables. He followed the towers through to the ridge until his eyes gazed upon the concrete, wood, and metal constructed wall that marked home. Thunder rumbled across the valley, giant black clouds gathered beyond the city. “Somebody knows we're coming.” He patted General, his horse, who seemed to be able to find his way back here from wherever they ended up. The rain started to fall heavier on them. Jonah smiled, “Any rain that 'ant acid rain...”

Jonah pressed the button on the speaker that stood a few feet from the gate. Static cracked out from it, letting the briefest glimpses of voices, until he hit the damn thing and it stopped altogether. He looked up and lifted his hat to the guards. They stared and shouted, but through the sound of the pouring rain it was useless. Jonah drew his pistol and aimed. The small bell that stood beside them swung back and forth, dented with another bullet shot. The gate lowered. Jonah pulled back on his hat.

Everybody was placing out their barrels, lining the streets and roofs of the city. The metal bridges and walkways that connected the multilevel buildings of the city were lined with the towns folk hanging out with bottles and buckets, even the working girls outside the neon signed 'Madame Lu's' were out. In times like this fresh water was a commodity not to be wasted. A couple of kids ran by with a small electronic dog with three legs. Laughing, the younger girl stopped and looked up at the Bounty hunter. “What's in yer bag, Misser Hex?” Her front teeth were missing but her smile was infectious and Jonah had to work to keep his face stern.

“Some'ing not fer you, I reckon.”

The little girl's eyes widened. “Issit a head? Didya catch'em 'n cut it off?”

Jonah shook his head, barely hiding a smirk. “Go play with yer dog Kelly.”

The kids ran on, and Jonah kept riding. Heading down the main road he made his way to the largest building that took up the center of the town. The old office building had somehow survived the destruction and desolation that had come in the time of the falling, and now it stood towering over the rest of the town, like a lighthouse in the distance. Jonah dismounted and left General outside, not bothering to tie him up. Everybody in this town knew who General belonged to, and if they didn't General would be the first to remind them.

He walked through the market area that took up most of the bottom few floors. This area was open to the public and acted as the main hub of New Turlington, rickety roof covers extended out connecting it to the rest of the city. Making his way to the shafts he spotted Ricky the Bellhop. The kid looked normal except for the shade of blue his skin was, which was only accentuated by his red uniform. Mutations like this were common enough, even after all these years, and Ricky was one of the lucky ones. The ones that were born with their brains outside their bodies or a leg growing out of their back, you felt sorry for them. Ricky was happy, no one made fun of him, opening the elevator door he smiled at Jonah and said, “He's expecting you.”

“Of course he is,” Hex replied. Entering the elevator he hit 19, the top floor, and flicked Ricky a coin. The hum of the electrics lifting him high into the tower ground to a stop and the doors opened.
In the corridor sat Haddock and Fitz, each seemingly bigger than the other, two hulking men in wide rim hats and long black jackets that probably contained more weapons and ammunition than most of the rest of the town had combined. Haddock spat, expertly hitting the dying pot plant that sat near him. With narrowed eyes he looked at Hex. “Hex.”

Hex tilted his hat to them, “Haddock, Fitz.” He held up the sack. “Got something fer Turnbull to see.” He waited for some reaction from them, then nodded to the door, “Yer goin' ta let me in?”

Haddock looked to Fits who smiled with several missing teeth. “Sorry Hex, new policy. Gonna' have ta take yer weapon.” His beefy, hairy face mock sympathetic. “Nuthin' personal Hex, jus' followin' orders.”

Jonah's eyes flicked from Fitz back to Haddock. Reaching slowly for his side arm, he stopped. In that moment the two guards were visibly uncomfortable. Jonah pulled out the weapon, then aimed the barrel at Haddock, who held his breath. He let the gun drop, swinging around his trigger finger, so the barrel now aimed at himself. Sighing, Haddock's fat hand grabbed the gun and dropped it on his lap. Jonah grabbed his other pistol and handed it to Fitz. “I trust yer two will take good care of them, I'd hate fer one of you to get hurt if yer dropped one of them...”

From his boot, his belt his other boot and under his shirt he removed four large knives. Then he chucked Haddock a metal sphere. “Careful,” he said as the huge man fumbled to keep hold of it, “plasma grenade.” Jonah stepped forth to the door and pushed it open.

Haddock grabbed his arm. “What about that?” He pointed to the tomahawk hanging from his belt.

Jonah smiled. “You can take that if yer want to.”

Haddock's hand reached then stopped. “It's jus' ceromonial... eh?”

Jonah silently nodded and walked on through. Turnbull was sitting cleaning an old six shooter. On seeing Jonah he placed the gun down and stood up, smiling. “Jonah, all ways good to see a good man return from a quest.” The old man was spritely, apart from the grey hair that sat neatly cut around his head and atop his upper lip, and old leg injury that caused his slight limp, it was hard to tell how old the man was. Jonah suspected he was older than he looked; he'd probably had some of the gene therapies that were available in the dome cities. If anyone could afford it, it was Turnbull. The old man spied the sack he was carrying and nodded seriously. “Is that who I think it is?”

Jonah stepped up and dropped the sack on the desk. He untied the top and revealed the slightly charred head. “Obidiah Griggs.”

Turnbull's lip curled, and he looked at Hex in the eyes. “You've got blood on yer. Went down with a fight did he?”

“Fight weren't with him, others got there first. Half eaten him too when I showed.” Jonah lifted the sack back around the head. Turnbull's eyes continued to bore through him. “Whole village had to be put down.”

The old man nodded sympathetically. “You did the right thing Jonah. We can't let people out there become animals, not when we're trying to recivilize and heal this sick world. You'll be paid in full of course, and I'll throw in some ammunition as I know you need it.” The old man walked over to the large safe that sat behind him. Twisting back and forward the door opened. He reached in and grabbed a pile of notes and flicked through them. Replacing a few back he shut that door. Handing them to Jonah he smiled. “Now I've taken yer rent out of that already, so it's all yers.” He patted Jonah's arm. “Yer the best hunter we got Jonah, don't think I don' know it.” He picked up the sack. “I'll get Fitz to place this one on the wall with the rest of them.”

Jonah turned to leave. “In a hurry to meet someone Jonah?” Turnbull called.

“Yer don' know the half of it.” Hex turned back and touched his hat. “Mr Turnbull. Ya know where to find me.” Walking back through, he swiftly took his guns back, and placed them back in their holsters at his sides. Impatiently he waited for the elevator and made his way through the crowds of hustlers and whores. Hopping on General, he let the horse canter, weaving around the wagons and under the hover platforms, until he spotted the concrete apartment building, a figure on the balcony, hanging out clothes. Jonah allowed the movements of the woman, the long shining dark hair, her pale arms reaching out, the mundane actions of this everyday task to soak through him, warming him internally. He smiled.

He climbed down and unhooked his saddle. Throwing a clump of hay on the ground he patted General. “I'll be back later to fix things, there's some'ing that I need to do now.” He swore the horse rolled his eyes. Quietly climbing up the old stairs he walked past the other apartment doors, making his way to the end door on the second floor. He tried it, unlocked. Lightly opening the door, he checked around then closed the door behind him. Treading silently he neared the balcony, a large white sheet hung blocking her. He placed one hand on his pistol and took another step.

“Take one more step and you won’t have a head.”

He turned to see the pale, beautiful woman holding a shotgun, aiming at his chest. He put his hands up. She waved the barrel at the guns on his belt. “Take it off.”

He pulled the belt from his buckle. “Ma'am this isn't what it looks like.” He dropped his belt, with his two holstered guns and tomahawk.

She shook her head, unconvinced. “You thought you could just sneak in here, and take advantage of an unarmed woman. You didn't expect me to be armed and ready.” Her English accent seemed to diffuse some of the threat she was posing to him, but the shotgun wasn't helping. He waited with his arms out as she scowled at him. “Take off your boots. If you run away, you won’t get far.” He squinted at her, pulling of his boots and tossing them aside.

“Now your pants.” He looked at her face, hesitating. She bared her teeth. “You heard me.” He unbuckled and pulled down his pants, stepping out of them. She brushed a strand out of her face. She squeezed her lips together.

“Take of your shirt.” He pulled it off and let it drop. He now stood in his underwear, socks, and hat. Her face contorted slightly. She backed away to the door and locked it. His breath was nervous, as her large eyes moved over him. “How dare you creep in here, with your dirty, dirty ideas.” He bit his tongue. She waved the gun menacingly. “You depraved, barbaric, ruffia...” her voice broke into laughter, hearty and wild. It was followed closely by his. She leaned back on the door, tears rolling down her cheeks, trying to catch her breath. He leaned forward.

“Hahaha... depraved ruffian...hahahhaha.” She leaned the gun up against the wall and walked over to him, as they both wiped the tears from their eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He smiled, taking his hat and placing it on her head. It slipped down over her eyes and he lifted it back up. They kissed.

***

“Just admit it, I had you.” Her head leaning on his chest, she spoke softly.

“I let yer think yer had me.” He smiled. He was still wearing his socks and hat. The underwear was elsewhere. He let his hand follow along her long dark hair.

She hit his leg. “You didn't see me coming. Just admit it.”

He sighed. “If it means that much to ya.” She hit his leg again. “Oh, reminds me.” He leaned over the side of his bed and lifted his trousers up, reaching in the pocket, “got ya some'ing.” He produced a small parcel, handing it to her. She opened the wrapped foil to reveal;

“Chocolate,” she said smiling. She turned over and gave him a kiss, hugging his scarred chest. For a moment they lay in silence.

A banging on the apartment door made him sit up. “What?” he shouted.

“Jonah Hex!”

“Yer?”

“Gov'nor Turnbull needs ya.”

Jonah looked reluctantly at his pistols, lying on the floor by his bed. Tallulah rested her head on his chest and watched his face. “If it's this late it's important.” Hex rubbed his face and nodded. He rolled out of bed and pulled on some clothes. Grabbing his belt he swung it on and found his boots. Tallulah met him at the door with his coat. He touched the side of her face.

“My English rose.” He kissed her forehead. The door squealed open to reveal a man with a lamp standing there. The bounty hunter followed the man down the stairway, leaving the dark haired woman standing in the doorway.

The man paced ahead of Jonah, heading towards the area where General was kept. “We've already saddled him, Turnbull is there.” Hex frowned. It was unusual for the Governor to be up this late, which meant bad. The old man, leaning on his eagle-topped cane, was flanked by Haddock and Fitz, and beside him General waited expectantly.

Turnbull's face was grim. “In my city Jonah... In my own city!” Jonah walked up to him. The governor shook his head. “Martin Warren. Seen in the Star Tavern this morning. We got word from East. He's wanted fer a dozen counts of child murder.”

Hex's hand wrapped around his gun. “Where is he?”

“Gone, left in some ol' rust bucket not two hours past. He's taken one of my townsfolk.” The old man jabbed his finger in Hex's chest. “We cannot have that Jonah. We cannot let people think that my city is open to murderers. That I am weak!” Turnbull turned and took a couple of belts of ammunition and handed them to Jonah. “Capture him, and bring him back alive, even if it's only barely, then we can hang him in front of everyone. Let them know what justice is like in the west.”

Jonah nodded, jumping up onto his steed. He took a torch off Haddock. “Who'd he take?”

Haddock frowned. “Saunder's kid. Uh... Kelly.”

Jonah pulled down the front of his hat. “Which way he headed last?”

“East, past Devil's corner.”

Hex kicked off, his face determined. Rain poured around him.

Through the gate Jonah picked up the trail, which had started to melt in the rain. The tire marks traced through to the old cracked sand covered roads. Cars were uncommon in the west, well to be correct they were everywhere; it was just barely anyone could maintain them. If you happened to be able to get your hands on some fuel, and a working battery you were set, mostly. Whatever vehicle Warren had taken, it was leaking oil. It wouldn't be long until it ran out all together, hopefully before he got where he wanted to be. General sensed his anger and galloped faster.

Holding the flaming torch ahead of him as he raced. Apart from the thrashing rain that whipped Hex, all he could hear was his horse's thundering hooves. The sky was dark, starless under the dark storm clouds. His eyes scanned the area, desperate for any sign of use. Gritting his teeth, he growled. The trail of oil had disappeared. He slowed General and turned him. Trotting back, he squinted his eyes, keeping the torch low. Thunder rumbled.

There he spotted the crushed cacti, tire tracks leading into the darkness. He set forward. The car seemed to have been driven haphazardly, the driver wanting to get off road, or get somewhere he had planned. Other cacti were knocked or clipped. Lightning struck, lighting up a silent car, sitting only a few feet on. Hex dismounted. Pulling one pistol out, he kept low, making his way to the car. Holding the torch forward he looked through the window. Nothing. The glassless back window was empty too. He looked to the trunk. It was cracked open slightly, and he lifted it. A pool of blood lay at the center of an old blanket. Blood covered the edge of the trunk and looking down he saw drag marks in the sand.

He looked up, following them to see the faintest glimmer of light in the distance. He whistled, and jumped on General. The rain seemed to pour harder as he raced towards what now seemed to be a cabin. He threw aside the torch, so he could hold a pistol in both hands. He dived off his mount, and ran, kicking open the door.

In the center of the room, the small girl Kelly hung upside down, her arms tied outwards, surrounded by a circle of candles. Blood from an arcane looking cut on her stomach, was running down towards her head. She seemed to be unconscious but breathing. Martin stood holding a candle beside her. He seemed a plain looking man, thin with a receding hairline. He seemed shocked to see the Bounty hunter, with both barrels pointed at him. His head twitched.

“Martin Warren, ya step away from her. Arms up.”

“N..no, you don't unnderst..stand. This is the last one! He said this is the last one. Then we're done, then we're free!”

Hex stepped towards the nervous man. “Who?”

“The man that li..lives in my head.” The man pointed to the side of his head.

“I dun' know if yer crazy, or yer possessed, or yer just straight lyin', but this ends now. That ant no threat, that's just how it is. No more killin' fer you or yer friend. If anyone is dyin' today, it ant her, and it ant me.” He continued to move to the man, who collapsed on to the ground and started to rock, holding his knees against his chest. Jonah pulled some rope from his belt and looped it into a knot.

The man looked up at him. “He says you're lyin'.”

Jonah curled his mouth in reply and lightning struck, hitting the metal chimney and sending sparks flying. The man moved in a blur. Hex fired, hitting the man squarely between the eyes. The man's body swayed upright, as if unwilling to fall back. Its eyes opened, pitch black, and it smiled. A trickle of blood traced down from the bullet wound to the side of its nose.

The dead man's lips started to move and slowly a strange sing-song voice emerged;
“Oh now wait,
is it too late,
to question fate,
or shall we just,
ignore the fuss,
and begin the hate?”

Jonah looked from the grinning corpse to the girl. More blood was pouring from her stomach where a huge knife now lay embedded. He looked down to his boot, where the knife once was. He turned his gaze back to the creature that once was Martin Warren.

“Take a child,
life defiled.
Ten and three,
and we are... free”


To be continued...