Dusthaven - Session 16
Fear Itself
Dusthaven Sherriff's Office - May17, 1875 6 pm
Cole sat in the Sheriff’s chair, boredly flicking the pieces of Hank’s discarded jigsaw puzzle, and regarded their prisoners coldly. Lady Evelyn sat on the bunk in her cell, looking unconcerned, while the prize fighter, who Owley called John, and Josie sat moping in their own cell. The Pinkerton agents talked nervously among themselves.
Cole approached the detectives’ cell. “The Pinkerton National Detective Agency,” he said. “The best in the world, by all accounts. Foiled the Baltimore Plot. Saved President Lincoln, provided invaluable information to the Union during the war. A sterling record. And now you’re here, in the nowhere town of Dusthaven.”
“We go where we need to, to serve our clients,” said one of the men.
“What are you looking for out here? Why did you think I would provide any information?”
“You’ll have to ask her. She told us to...persuade you to come along.”
The Pinkerton man gestured with a wave of his hand to Lady Evelyn, who seemed to take no notice. “What do you want with me?” He glared at her menacingly, a glare that had caused many a man to back down, and many a woman to avoid his gaze. It did not seem to bother Evelyn in the slightest.
“You’re a Bridgewater, aren’t you? You look just like your father.” Evelyn looked down her nose at him. “Ugly as an ape, and twice as stupid.”
“And you’re just as charming as any Fairfax I ever met,” Cole said, not letting her words bother him. “What do you want with me,” he persisted.
“Surely even you can’t be that dense. You’ve been out to that canyon, after all. You’ve seen what Hollister’s research created.”
“Oh, I’ve seen it all right,” Cole said coldly, remembering what Hollister had done to Geneviève and the outlaws, and even Josie. “It ought to be buried with him.”
“But it isn’t, is it? It’s still out there, where someone could pick it up.”
“Don’t waste your time, lady.” Cole glowered at her some more. “All I ever found out there were a lot of booby traps. I lost more than I ever gained out there. I hope all of Hollister’s unholy ideas died with him.”
“Unholy ideas?” Josie piped up from her cell. “Doctor Hollister was a genius. His formulas made us better, stronger,” she batted her eyes at Orin Owley, “prettier.”
“Josie,” Her companion in the cell hissed. “Shut up.”
“I will not let him badmouth Dr. Hollister. We can have all that again. It’s all in that notebook of his.”
At the mention of the notebook, Evelyn’s eyes homed in on Josie and a predatory look spread across her face.
“I’d advise you not to say any more,” Cole said, but Josie ignored him.
“He kept them in the office of that old factory,” she continued.
“That place has all but collapsed,” Cole said. “I wouldn’t go back in there.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Evelyn reached into her skirts. “You’re too afraid. And if you’re not… you will be.” Before anyone could stop her, she pulled a glass vial from a hidden pocket and tossed it to the floor, where it shattered with an evil hiss. Thick, ill-smelling green vapors issued up from the vial, filling the whole Sheriff’s office
Trying not to breathe, Cole launched himself toward the door, but it was too late. The green vapors made his head swim and obscured his sight.
The haze parted, and Cole found himself standing in the square of Dusthaven, in front of Dr. Zeismer's home. Jeering voices assaulted his ears, and he looked up to see a crowd of townsfolk heading toward him, torches and pitchforks in hand.
There were townsfolk of all sorts in the crowd. There were the merchants, the farmers, and even the butcher, but they were all there with one common aim - to burn him like they had Geneviève. Reverend Elias and Dr. Hollister were right up there at the front, leading the charge, screaming and yelling as they went. There was something wrong with that. Cole couldn't quite seem to figure out what.
“Monster!” Reverend Elias shouted.
“Obviously some form of devolved primate!” Hollister cried. “It should be put down.”
“Kill the ape! Kill the ape!” The townsfolk chanted, converging on Cole from all sides with their torches.
“Grab him,” a settler cried. “Hold him down. Quick before he gets his gun! He’s gone crazy as a road lizard.”
“Yes,” Hollister laughed. “That’s just what it is. A road lizard. Clearly a primitive specimen at that.”
“Cole,” a familiar voice called. He turned his head as the crowd parted and his father, the Duke himself, strode into the square, pointing an accusatory finger in a white kid glove. “You are disgrace to the name of Bridgewater. You should be stripped of your inheritance. Your mother would be ashamed!”
“No!” Cole shouted. “You all stay away from me.”
“Come now, Bridgewater,” said Dr. Zeismer. “You must calm down. Please put down the gun.”
‘Yes,” said Reverend Elias. “Put down the gun, and let us cleanse you with FIRE!” He shoved a torch into Cole’s face, causing him to recoil from the heat. Cole shook his head, trying to clear it. Something wasn’t right here, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Even Nevah was in the square, seeming to laugh at him before launching a vicious kick at his midsection, as his old pony once had done back in England.
Somewhere in the back of the crowd there were gunshots.
Cole threw a punch at Reverend Elias, his fist imploding the man’s head like a rotten watermelon. He pulled it back, to see it was covered with decayed flesh and other unsavory things. “Monster,” said the Reverend from the hole that was once his face. “Monster, burn burn burn!”
Strong arms grabbed Cole around his waist. He was lifted off his feet by the town blacksmith, Gus. Angrily he struggled, but Gus, not wanting to be shot or punched, held on like a demon. Lowering his center of gravity, Cole shoved Gus away, pushing himself in the opposite direction and colliding head first with a hitching post nearby. Darkness claimed him, the jeering voices fading from his ears, leaving Gus and three very confused settlers standing in the empty square, the smell of gunpowder somewhere close by.
The darkness receded, leaving Cole with a raging headache. He struggled to sit up. “What the hell?” Dr. Zeismer was kneeling next to him, one hand on his forhead and a stethoscope over his heart.
“Be careful,” the German told him. “That was quite a nasty bump.”
“What happened?” Cole asked.
“I think that Fairfax woman poisoned you,” said Zeismer. “The blacksmith mentioned some kind of gas. You all came out of the sheriff’s office raving like madmen.”
“Where is she,” Cole tried again to sit up. It didn’t work very well.
“Be careful,” Zeismer said again. “I have no idea what she hit you with. You’ve been unconscious for over an hour. I was afraid to move you. You injured three people before you hit your head. I regret to inform you that Miss Fairfax escaped in the chaos.”
Gus helped Cole to his feet, and supported him as they walked back to the Sheriff’s office. The door hung open, with a few traces of the green vapor still hanging in the air. Gus seemed reluctant to go in, but Cole staggered in anyway. As Zeismer had said, Evelyn Fairfax was gone, but Josie, the prize fighter, and the Pinkertons were all still locked up. That seemed to be for the best.
The young boxer was curled up in the back of the cell, weeping uncontrollably. He looked up at Cole through teary eyes, and said in a voice reminiscent of a small child, “No, Pa! Please! I didn’t mean to do nothing bad. I didn’t. I didn’t. Don’t whip me no more!”
Josie was also cowering at the back of the cell. “Don’t you put your paws on me! I said don’t you touch me! I don’t want your damn money! You don’t put your hands on me!”
One of the Pinkertons was likewise reduced to weeping incoherently, while the other screamed at Cole “Come on, you red bastard! You want to scalp me? Come and try it. Come and try it! I dare you!” Owley and Kane were nowhere to be seen.
Dr. Zeismer walked in behind him. “They have been like this for as long as you were unconscious,” he said. “I don’t know what to do for them other than let this run its course.”
“The Fairfax woman has probably gone out to the canyons, looking for that rat bastard Hollister’s notebook,” Cole steadied himself with the Sheriff’s desk. “Which this rat queen so helpfully told her just how to find.” He indicated Josie.
“Rats?” Josie screamed. “Oh, Lordy! Rats! Rats on me! Rats! I’m covered in ‘em!” She started slapping at her body, or perhaps at invisible tormenting rodents, Cole wasn’t exactly sure which. He didn’t exactly feel sorry for suggesting that to her.
Old Jeb came into the Sheriff’s office. “Doctor! We found ‘em. Going for each other like wildcats.”
“Get that wildcat out of the cell,” shouted the Pinkerton man. “It’s a panther, it’ll gut me.” Zeismer shook his head and followed Jeb out the door.
Outside, four settlers barely restrained Owley and Kane from attacking each other. Both were disheveled with torn clothing and Kane had several nasty-looking scratches on his face. Another settler held the ruin of Owley’s magnificent top hat as if he didn’t quite know what to do with it.
“I loved her!” Owley shouted. “I loved her and it’s your fault that Hollister turned her into a monster. You let him get her. I’ll kill you. Let me go, damn you!”
“Hollister!” Kane shouted in return. “You bastard, I am going to tear your arms off and feed them to you for what you did to my Geneviève! You let me at him. You let me AT him.”
“Take them as far from each other as you can until they calm down,” said Zeismer. The settlers pushed the two men apart.
“We have to stop her from getting those journals,” said Cole. “Or this mess will be the least of what she can cook up.”
“We don’t have enough men to take care of them, and guard the town,” Gus indicated Geneviève's two raving suitors. “You want to go out there to Coyote Gulch, you’re on your own.”
“Well, then, on my own it is.” Poor Nevah! Cole felt bad dragging her out without her dinner and in the dark. Coyote Gulch was a rathole filled with traps at the best of times. Despite all that, he was willing to go back. It was important to him to keep the journals from falling into the wrong hands
.But it was clear no one was going to help him. After what Dr. Zeismer had told him about Josie and the Pinkertons’ symptoms, it seemed clear there was no point in waiting for help. He knew his way around out there, so it seemed best to get this over with.
