The Carpetbagger, by Stannley

A golden hue saturated the horizon deepening to red then to scarlet and then to a deeper red - the colour of 
blood.  

The landscape, usually so bright and hot during the day, took on a more sinister air as night drew in and the 
sun's waning colours bathed it in a terrible glow.   

The dark greens of the cacti seemed the only thing unaffected by this transition, their colours only dimming 
with the fall of the sun.  

The few animals that survived out here also seemed unaware as they scurried about foraging around the 
scattered rocks that abounded in this region.  

Very soon these animals would be safely asleep, tucked away in their sanctuaries only to be replaced in the 
search for food by the night-feeding animals such as scorpions, snakes and coyotes.
	
A few birds of prey were still out riding the thermals and defying the onset of the night's cool darkness 
when the first long, ear-splitting howl rose and, as if the sun was waiting for it, darkness suddenly 
enveloped the desert.
	
Within the circle of flickering light cast by a small fire Deke shivered.  

Although he had spent much of his adult life in the desert the howl of a coyote always froze his blood.  His 
facial expression however, remained as it always did, in a perpetual frown.  

The skin on his face had hardened over the years becoming leathery with deep fissures so that it looked like 
a miniature version of the landscape he had traversed for the past twenty years.  

His grey, steely eyes peered from the deepest of these fissures surveying the edge of the small encampment.  
	
"You know what the date is, Deke?" his companion asked, shaking him from the fear that gripped him with 
every howl from those retched 'desert dogs'.
	
"Nope.  Ain't got no use for dates in the desert." he replied and spat the tobacco that he had been chewing 
into the campfire.  

The spittle popped and hissed in the flames as he bit off another chunk and began chewing once more.
	
"Well" Josh continued, "its October 31st.  You know what that means?"
	
"Nope, told ya, I ain't got no use of dates."
	
"It means that its Halloween.  A time where all the spooks, spectres, witches and demons come out to 
play." Josh said, with a hint of humour in his voice.  

Deke laughed so hard he nearly swallowed his chewing tobacco.
	
"Awww man, that hurts!" he said and held his sides as if to stop them from splitting.  Another howl rose in 
the evening air and Deke shut his mouth quickly.
	
"It ain't that funny." Josh said but he too was laughing hard.  The lines that ran from the corners of his eyes 
creased appreciably but not so much as Deke's.  

Josh was perhaps ten years Deke's junior but they didn't really know because neither saw fit to ask the 
other.  It could be seen, however, in Josh's face.  

His skin, although well on its way, was no where near as weatherworn as Deke's. 
	
"You know, people used to take a lot of stock in those tales?" Josh said.
	
"Yup, but this is 1860-something and we know better don't we?" Deke replied.
	
"I guess so." Josh answered uncertainly.
	
"Don't tell me you believe in all that horse manu....." Deke began, but was cut off when the horses started 
shrieking.  Not whinnying, not neighing, but literally shrieking as if they were scared out of their wits.  

In one fluid movement, so instinctive and quick that Josh didn't even see it happen, Deke drew his revolver 
and rolled backwards off of the log he was sitting on and disappeared into the darkness.  

Josh sat stunned for a second looking into the empty space that Deke had previously occupied before 
drawing his own weapon and running towards where the horses were tethered.  

He reached them before Deke and found them frightened but otherwise unharmed.  As he checked them he 
heard a click behind him.  The sound of a cocked trigger.  

A moment later he felt the cold muzzle of a gun digging into his neck.
	

"If I was anyone else you'd be dead." he heard Deke whisper harshly into his ear.
	
"Jeez Deke, I fair messed my pants!" he said shakily.
	
"Just thank your lucky stars it was me cuz your worrying days would have been over." Deke rasped again.  
"Oh and never, NEVER run straight out to a ruckus.  You made an easy target silhouetted against the fire."
	
"Sorry Deke, I guess I still have a lot to learn." He smiled wanly, then asked "So what frightened the 
horses?"
	
"I don't know.  Maybe a scorpion or a snake.  Weren't no rustlers cuz there ain't any footprints."
	
"Well their ok now.  Let's go back to the warmth, waddya say?" Josh asked and shivered "It's gotten mighty 
cold out here."
	
They holstered their guns and walked back to the campfire with a little less urgency than with which they 
had left it.  Before they reached the circle of light Deke put a hand on Josh's chest and halted him.  

He pulled his revolver again and crept towards the encampment.  There was a man sitting where Deke had 
been earlier and there was something about him that seemed troubling to Deke.   

It wasn't only the fact that he had arrived with no trace or sound apart from the horses terrified screaming. 
There was something about the man that made him uneasy.   

He stared at the newcomer trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with him.  

The man was around 5 foot 5 inches, slightly podgy around the waist with fair, unblemished skin.  He wore 
a tweed two-piece suit with a paisley pattern waistcoat complete with a gold chain that ended, Deke 
presumed, in a gold pocket watch.  

A black, dusty bowler hat and yellow bow tie completed the ensemble.  In his hands he cradled a battered, 
dusty bag made of carpet.
	
Deke waved to Josh and indicated that he wanted him to circle the camp with his gun drawn.  They would 
then confront the stranger together from both sides.  

Josh nodded his agreement and slunk off into the darkness.  After a minute had passed (Deke counted to 
60- "Ain't got no use of a pocket watch" he would've said if asked), 

they burst into the glow of the campfire, their guns pointing in the oddly dressed intruder's direction.
	
"Good Day to ye!" the man said with a thick Irish brogue before the two men had even broken the cover of 
darkness.
	
"Whatya doin' here, Carpetbagger?" Deke spat in his southern drawl.
	
"Yeah, an' howd'ya get here?" Josh joined in; his own accent a muddled version of New York and 
Alabama.
	
"Oim very sorry if oi frightened ye", he said "Oi just saw ye light and thought Oid join ye by the fire."
	
"That's all very well but answer my friends question.   Howd'ya get here?" Deke growled.  Josh smiled at 
Deke's use of the word 'friend'.  

He'd worked hard to cultivate a friendship with Deke but this was the first time he'd heard him apply that 
word to himself.

"Well, oi started to tether moi horse next to yours," he explained "but something spooked em, and before oi 
could stop it, mine ran out into the desert.  He'll be back oim guessing soon as he calms down."
	
Deke thought this over.  He didn't believe his story.  Josh and he had covered both ways to the camp and he 
hadn't passed either of them but he thought it was best to sit and talk amiably with the man.  

Sometimes it's best to gently 'coax' the horse rather than to lasso and drag it.
	
"Oim sorry," the Irishman continued "oi didn't introduce moiself.  Moi name is O'Leary, Pat O'Leary."  He 
stuck out his hand and both Deke and Josh couldn't fight the urge to accept this man's open palm.  

They both shook his hand, introduced themselves and re-holstered their weapons.
	
"You shouldna snuck up like that" Deke said, sitting down on a partially buried rock, "a man's liable to get 
his head blown off by sneaking up on another man."
	
"Oim sorry.  I didn't realise that I was sneaking." O'Leary smiled, but the momentary lapse of his Irish 
accent didn't escape Deke.
	
"One more slip" Deke thought to himself, "just one more slip."
	
"Want some coffee?" Josh asked, unaware that Deke was on sensory overload, trying to detect any slight 
difference that he could, but still Deke couldn't see what was wrong with the pleasant sounding Irishman.  

He would suddenly think he had it but then his mind would gloss over and it would slip from his grasp.
	
"Oid love a drop of yer coffee and maybe I can share some of my fine Irish Whiskey with you?" O'Leary's 
smile was broader than ever now but again his accent had slipped.
	
Josh eagerly agreed to the offer of the whiskey and was already pouring out the coffee for the Irishman 
when Deke asked, "What's in the bag, O'Leary?"
	
The smile faltered for a second and he gripped the bag little tighter.
	
"Oim afraid that's moi little secret", he said, his smile broadening again.
	
Josh leaned forward and handed O'Leary a cup of coffee.  O'Leary brought a small hip flask out from his 
jackets inside pocket.  

He unscrewed the silver cap and poured a drop into his mug, beckoning for Josh and Deke to do the same.  
Josh leaned forward and accepted the whiskey while Deke weighed up the situation.
	
"The whiskey may be drugged", he thought, "On the other hand, if he thinks I'm drunk he might play right 
into my hands."  He leaned forward with his cup of coffee and accepted some whiskey.
	
As Josh knocked his licquer-laden coffee back, Deke waited for an opportune moment.  When O'Leary was 
pocketing his hip flask, turning his head to do so, Deke emptied the contents of his mug behind the rock he 
was sitting on.  

Quickly he moved the mug to his lips before O'Leary could notice his small act of subterfuge.
	
A twinkle appeared in O'Leary's eye as he watched Josh and Deke drink.
	
"Ain't you drinking yours O'Leary?" Josh asked, slurring his words already, "It'll get cold mighty quick if'n 
ya don't."
	
O'Leary looked at Deke who pretended to be falling under the influence just as Josh actually was.
	
"Nope, I don't think I will." He said, dropping the Irish accent altogether.  "You see, that whiskey wasn't 
whiskey.  

You, gentlemen, have unwittingly played into my hands in drinking a little potion that I manufactured for 
our encounter."
	
Deke pretended to slump off the rock, laying on his left side and looking up at O'Leary or whoever he was.  
Joshe's body seemed to crumple and then fell backwards over the log that he was sitting on.  

His body made a loud thud as it hit the ground.  Deke prayed that his friend was all right and would get 
over this lunatic's potion.
	
"You asked what was in the bag Deke." he said and knelt in front of Deke then bending to eye level.  "Well 
it's what all us "Carpetbaggers" keep in our bags - deeds.  

Where the similarity ends though, my poor unfortunate friends, is that while other "Carpetbaggers" collect 
the deeds to properties, I collect the deeds to souls."
	
Deke suddenly realised what one of the things was that had been puzzling him about the man.  His 
complexion.  While O'Leary knelt with his face close to Deke's he noticed that O'Leary didn't have a line 
on his face.  

Nor did he have any pores or facial hair.  In fact, the man's skin was so smooth it could've passed for a 
baby's proverbial bottom.  Deke was now starting to actually worry.  How could a man have such smooth 
skin?  

Even the women in Chicago didn't have skins that smooth and they hadn't been anywhere near the desert.  
The desert sun will crack and blister unprotected skin in moments and this guy was a few day's away from 
anywhere civilised.
	
O'Leary picked up his bag and laid it in front of Deke.  It was so close that Deke could see the weave of the 
carpet the bag was made of.  Here and there the carpet was pulled, tufts of cotton hung from it in various 
places.  

As he stared the sides of the bag moved slightly.  In and out, in and out.  The bag was breathing!  Or at 
least it looked that way to Deke.
	
"Hmmm, I can see by your eyes that you aren't ready yet." O'Leary sighed, "We mustn't take them before 
they are ready must we?"  

He stroked the bag in a very unsettling way and took it over by Josh.  "Now this one is ready, aren't you 
Josh?"
	
Deke slowly rose behind O'Leary as he squatted in front of Josh.  His hand went to his holster and he drew 
his revolver as slowly and as quietly as he possibly could.
	
O'Leary gripped the brass catch on the bag and with a barely audible click, unlatched it.  Immediately a 
knife-thin strip of red light shot up into the sky.  The light shifted in shade and Deke could see things 
moving within it.  

Large blotches of blood red moved within a lighter red.  Areas of dark purple writhed within the liquid 
light.  

As O'Leary opened the bag wider the light grew stronger and thicker so that it looked more like a dense 
glutinous substance rather than light.
	
"That's enough old man, if that is what you are." Deke said, cocking the trigger of his gun.  It was then that 
the final piece of the jigsaw slotted itself into place for Deke.  The 'man', although surrounded by light, cast 
no shadow.  

Even under his knees as he crouched the ground was the mottled red of the glowing bag.
	
O'Leary turned around and looked at Deke.  Surprise mixed with a dull fury that this desert bum might have 
foiled his plans was written all over his face.  He turned his full anger on Deke and rose to his full height.
	
Deke had never seen a werewolf; had never seen Dracula and had never seen Frankenstein's monster.  

These creatures were all in books Deke had never read and in movies that Deke would not live to see.  But 
what Deke saw could not have been prepared for, even if he had read the books or had seen the movies.
	
As O'Leary stood, anger infusing his being, O'Leary grew.  From the five foot five inches that he presented 
himself as when he sat in the camp waiting for his victims, he grew to beyond seven feet tall.  

The tweed of his jacket and trousers shimmered, liquefied and then solidified into a strangely reptilian skin.  
It was brown and yellow camouflage against the sand and rocks of the desert.  

His arms grew in length and the hands expanded large enough to engulf a man's head.  The nails on each 
finger grew; one inch, two inches and then they filled so that they were no longer nails but long, evil 
looking claws.  

The arms bulged, muscles rippling beneath the scaly skin.  It was O'Leary's face that Deke was staring at 
though.  

His face had grown into a more triangular shape.  The eyes elongating, fading to dark brown, the pupils 
glowing yellow vertical slits.  

The scales reached the creature's chin then ended in a fine, smooth skin that rose up over the thing's squat, 
stubby nose.  
	
Deke stepped back and the creature grinned, showing two large fangs but no other teeth.  A long, slender 
tongue licked back and forth, first around one fang, then the next.  

It laughed at Deke causing the scales on its huge chest to rub together making a rasping sound.
	
"What's wrong Deke?" it asked in a deep voice.  A voice the sound of oil drums being rolled down a hill.   
"Haven't you ever met an Irish Carpetbagger?" and again the creature laughed.  

"You know that you are dead don't you Deke?"
	
Deke was scared.  He couldn't remember if he had ever been as scared as he was at this moment.  His mind 
rolled over and over, "Oh my god its a lizard, oh my god its a lizard, oh my god its a lizard".
	
"Now, Deke" a new voice interrupted his train of thought, "I didn't teach you to be afraid of lizards did I?"
	
"Hell no, Pops!" Deke's mind yelled, "I ain't afraid of no damn lizard!"
	
"You look scared Deke" O'Leary said in a mocking voice.  "Aren't you ready to meet your maker?"  It 
laughed again, it's whole chest heaving with it's own humour.
	
"Well now Mr O'Leary," Deke said in a newly found cool voice, "I don't know about that.  Are you ready to 
meet yours?  Oh, by the way, have you ever been acquainted with my good friend Mr Colt?"  

He brought the revolvers muzzle up so that it was pointing directly between the thing's eyes.    Uncertainty 
clouded those dark brown spheres and it licked the air trying to gauge Deke's resolve.  

What it tasted it didn't like and it charged at Deke, it's powerful talon-tipped legs digging into the loose 
sand.
	
His father had showed Deke how to fire a gun nearly thirty years before.  After so much time a man should 
be good at what he does and this was no different for Deke.  He squeezed the trigger, cocked it, and fired 
again.  

He emptied the six chambers and then drew his second gun, cocking it as he drew.  The six slugs followed 
the six from the first gun tearing a large, gaping hole in the creature's face, a hole that continued to grow 
with every bullet impact.  

The creature didn't stop.  It continued it's charge towards Deke even though it must surely be dead.  Deke 
started to back away but the creature was coming too fast.  

There was no way that he could get out of it's way and he felt sure that the creature would fulfil it's 
prophecy by smashing into and killing Deke when it fell on him .
	
The creature was close enough to see more clearly now.  

Time slowed as he saw every detail of this grisly thing.  

He could see the creature had a scale missing on its left bicep; could tell that it had been in numerous fights 
by the scar tissue that lined it's massive bulk, but through all of this his vision kept being drawn towards the 
gaping hole in the thing's face.  

Roughly circular, the hole measured approximately one foot in diameter with ragged, scorched pieces of 
skin, bone and flesh hanging from it's edges.  

Deep within the open wound things writhed and twisted.  Black, sightless worms squirmed out of the hole 
and rained down the creature's scale covered body.

Just as those worms were about to start falling on Deke a hole erupted in the creature's side quickly 
followed by several more.  "Dear god", he thought, "What else is in this thing?"

The force of these eruptions forced it sideways, past Deke and it fell, landing flat on the campfire.  The 
flames that had been dimming a little suddenly roared with life as it found new fuel to burn.  It seemed that 
the creature was very dry as the body soon caught light and began to pop and burn.
	
It was only then that his brain registered the gunshots that had saved his life.  He turned to where Josh lay 
only to see him grinning up at him and leaning on the log he had been sitting on with a smoking revolver in 
his hand.
	
"You know Deke", he said.  "If I had been anyone else you'd be dead now?"
	
Deke let out a huge sigh of relief as he realised that his friend was going to be ok.  Then noticed the bag 
lying beside him still with that light show of gore hanging above it.  

The bag now seemed to be panting rapidly, its sides moving in and out very quickly.
	
Deke reloaded one of his pistols and approached the bag.  As he got nearer he heard screaming.  It was a 
terrible noise, like the sound of hundreds of souls screaming as one.  

The noise filled Deke's ears making him wince and wish for this nightmare to end.
	
"One way to stop it I guess" he said aloud and pumped six slugs into the carpetbag.  

The bag was thrown sideways by the impact, its panting reduced to a quiver as bloody gore now oozed 
from twelve holes in its side - six entry and six exit wounds.
	
The pattern of the carpet shifted and swirled momentarily, the texture fading and then becoming a smooth 
white.  Where the bullets had passed through the surface was cracked allowing Deke to see what this thing 
really was.  
	
The egg continued to quiver for a few seconds before it's occupant, weary and weak with blood pouring 
from various places, broke free of the cracked shell.  

The thing, a small version of O'Leary, lay in a spreading pool of gore, slick with it and panting very, very 
slowly.
	
Josh appeared at Deke's side and, aiming his pistol, squeezed the trigger once obliterating the thing's head 
and ending its ordeal.
	
"What was that Deke?"  He asked.
	
"I don't know," Deke replied, "Ain't seen nothing like it before and I hope never to see another."
	
Both men holstered their weapons yet again, then sat and watched as the roaring fire engulfed the O'Leary 
thing.
	
Somewhere in the distance a coyote looked up into the night sky and greeted the moon with an ear-
splitting howl.  

Back in camp, Deke smiled.



The End

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