 Cormac had been traveling the plane for days, set adrift by conflict on an ocean of pale dust. The bullet wound in his left shoulder still ached, despite the blood running down his arm being long since dry. The sun, which had been the one ubiquitous constant since his gang had been massacred in a firefight with the Apaches, was perched mockingly on the distant horizon, painting the western sky with hues of burning red. The intense heat felt almost palpable, as though you could reach out and caress it with calloused fingertips. He pictured his mama's baking pot from when he was just a kid, and imagine this was very much like being trapped inside. His mind suddenly flooded with fond thoughts of home, fond thoughts of simply not being here. He'd have shot his mama ten times to escape this hell without a moment's hesitation. Lycester, his horse, was beginning to falter. It was the only creature on this desolate plain more wretched than him. Five days of galloping without food or water had taken its toll on the animal. Now little more than a pelt nailed to a set of creaking bones. The saddle felt too big for the horse's emaciated back, and with every stride Cormac could feel the sickly prod of Lycester's ribcage jutting into his ankles, masked by a thin layer of furry skin the quality of tissue paper. To see a beast so mighty and proud, reduced into such a pitiful state was a sobering reminder of his own mortality. His own foolish, arrogant mistake. He turned his head to all sides and realized that this godforsaken desert was devoid even of plant life, nary a cactus nor a blade of parched grass emerging from a crack in the ground could be seen for 100 miles in any direction. When he coughed, he coughed dust and something in his chest rattled like his body wanted to give up on him. The Marston gang, now deceased, were the most vicious band of outlaws this side of the Mexican border with a string of murders, rapes, and robberies that they wore like a pearl necklace with irreverence. They basked in their cruelty, ransacking villages both European and native and slaughtering to their heart's content until the streets were awash with blood and smoke from burning buildings blotted out the sun's judgmental gaze. Lawmen had taken to calling them the gray ruin as towns that fell into their clutches were little more than burnt husks and ash upon their departure. Cormac thought, though the word never passed his crack lips, is that what this is now? Me being judged. He crossed the scorched landscape covered in long dark cracks like a network of veins on the skin of a dead god and bore forward towards the horizon as though it held some promise of redemption. Occasional blasts of gritty wind had coated both thin rider and thin steed in a layer of pale dust like a ghostly warrior, a pale horseman galloping from the pages of revelations to this genuine end times wasteland. The desert seemed almost like a world unto itself brought into existence to punish Cormac for his misdeeds. Whenever they rode at whatever speed, Cormac got the impression that death rode just behind him invisible, unstoppable, inevitable. That word was perhaps the scariest in the world, inevitable. Death was inevitable, escape was merely conditional. This temperature often lent itself to mirages where trembling heat in the distance gave the desert terrain the reflective qualities of blown glass. Sometimes it played tricks with your head, made you catch glimmers of things that weren't there, like a lush green oasis on the horizon beckoning you like the call of a siren. In that regard, the sight that assailed Cormac's weary eyes was no mirage. It looked like claws of some great and ancient monster protruding from the ground to form a perfect circle where spires made from bleached white animal bones rose from their subterranean palms. He'd never seen quite so many bones of so many varieties of animal arranged to form what looked almost like a tiny settlement. Femurs made tripods for erect spines that led to clustered skull peaks and rib cages form the bases for spider like bone arrangements with a plethora of arms and legs jutting at unnatural angles. It was an oasis of bones filled with nightmarish ivory totems and in the very heart of the circle sat the skull of an African elephant on top of which perched a figure sitting cross-legged with his head bowed dressed completely in white. Cormac was shaken from his tired equanimity by the sight of the bone oasis. There were no other settlements for miles and unless the bones of the white cloth stranger's horse lay among the copious others there was no telling how he got there let alone how he managed to transport all the carcasses. He spurred his horse and rode forward watching the bone oasis grow larger on the horizon. The great claws that encircled the mandala were in fact the ribs of a whale curving in words so that their points all aimed towards the elephant skull in the center. As he and lie caster grew closer Cormac began to comprehend the sheer size of the stranger a great man garbed in a long white suit four feet across the shoulders at the very least with a white wide brimmed hat that obscured his features entirely. The rider drew his cold double action revolver from the level holster at his hip and pulled back the hammer with his thumb. He felt justified in exercising caution around a giant living amongst bones and curled his index finger around the trigger ready to fill him with burning lead and a moment's notice. When he and lie caster were separated from the skull thrown by mere feet he finally spoke out what in the hell is all this shit Mr. He called out cupping his left hand to the side of his mouth and what the hell are you doing up there. There was a pause when all was silent save for the wind warbling as it passed through the bones lie caster wind nervously but Cormac ran his bony fingers through the animal sparse black mane to silence him. I am waiting said the stranger atop the elephant's skull his cadence deep and measured as though he were standing right next to you waitin Cormac said to himself his voice a dry croak rattling around the dusty walls of his throat what are you doing waiting in a place like this the stranger gave a low earthy chuckle anticipating some entertainment Mr. Marston like all gentlemen of taste Cormac gasped and clenched his fist around the handle of his pistol raising it to shoulder height in shock how do you know my name everyone knows your name Mr. Marston. Are you not the best marksman in Arizona or does that apply more to the myth than to the man that inspired it. He gave a frustrated grunt and drew a bead on the stranger's head still obscured by the hat Cormac Marston had fired many shots in his day and nine out of ten of those shots always found their way to someone's forehead particularly when that someone wasn't showing him the proper respect. What you heard is true no man can gun a bastard down like me but what of it stranger I can't shoot my way out of having a dry throat and an empty belly as much as I can't shoot my way home from this hellhole this gun might as well be a goddamn paperweight. The stranger had clearly heard what he wanted to hear and lifted his head to face Marston under the brim of his hat Marston could see a pair of black eyes eyes that seemed to be hewn from coal staring at him from a gray face the man was aged but not wrinkled and had a strangely Leon 9 dignity about him his lips were drawn in a thin malevolent smile the stranger seemed pleased ah but Marston my boy what if I told you that you could Cormac lowered his gun the stranger's cryptic words appealed more to his desperation than his curiosity his resolve weakened by hunger dehydration and exhaustion in his glory days Marston would have shot this Joker stole his fancy white hat and jacket and left his corpse amongst all the others now however no such thought even occurred to him keep talking Cormac said his voice quiet and strained with agility that Cormac thought impossible for a man of his size the stranger dismounted and landed deathly on his feet he was wearing a pair of expensive looking spats not your usual desert fair Cormac thought then stood at his full height the man was truly monstrous like one of those old Greek legends Cormac had read as a boy a Titan in flesh he was perhaps eight feet tall at the very least with arms and legs like the shafts of trees yet he was clothed like a dandy with suit jacket waistcoat shirt and pleated trousers that seemed fresh from the laundromat the stranger was another preposterous enigma of the endless desert are you a betting man Cormac the stranger said sliding a gloved hand into his jacket and retrieving a standard deck of cards most of you lot tend to be in my experience poker blackjack pontoon all sorts of little games on which to wager chips and money and cigarettes great fun don't you think while talking the stranger drew four cards from the deck two black eights and two black aces which he casually threw onto the ground between himself and Cormac myself I find the concept of the wager to be quite exciting the stranger continued while shuffling the deck in one hand and gesticulating artfully with the other as though he were conducting an orchestra however it goes without saying that the excitement is truly proportional to that which is at stake a game of poker played for mere money is a fool's errand but a game of poker played for one's life has true gravitas there is no room for levity and wagers mr. Marston during this long-winded speech Cormac felt as though the stranger was talking at him rather than to him with a speech that he no doubt rehearsed to his audience of skeletons while awaiting the arrival of a hapless traveler that being said the important elements transcended the wordiness of the stranger's delivery you want to play cards with me Cormac asked in a state of wide-eyed exasperation the stranger scoffed goodness no I see no fun in cards they were merely to illustrate my point the game I wish to play with you involves your skills with that six shooter my boy will put to the test whether you're really the greatest gunman in the state Cormac nodded his energy depleted forming words when unnecessary seemed pointless the stranger saw this and though his face didn't betray it he felt a pain of irritation at Cormac's lack of enthusiasm for his little game meanwhile lie kester remained silent and static Cormac had tied his reins to one of the stranger's bone spires but first my dear Marston I have but one request of you the stranger said his saccharin tone a guy's for bitterness I wish to know why the self-professed greatest marksman in the state of Arizona and leader of the gray ruin has fallen upon such hard times you are wounded exhausted starving and alone how did this come to be I thought fortunes smiled on you and your roving gang of criminals Marston gave an indignant grunt for two reasons the first was the spitefulness behind the stranger's words that he made no real effort to hide the second was the fact he got the distinct impression that the stranger already knew the answer to this question oh I'll tell you Cormac said his brow arched in tired fury story ain't long and it ain't pretty neither but I'll tell you after I hear your name that is I don't do dealings with no man who I don't know the name of the stranger grinned smart boy the smile seemed to whisper a hermin furlong Marston I doubt you've heard of me I suppose you could say I'm a traveler from an antique land not unlike your own said Herman furlong removing his wide brimmed hat to reveal a slicked back head of silver hair now if you please the story Cormac bowed his head in what almost seemed like a bizarre parody benediction closed his eyes and exhaled a dusty breath alright Herman furlong I'll tell you Cormac replied his voice seeming slow and considerate we was out in Texas when it happened came across a few tents full of sleeping engines we figured it'd be fun to shoot a lot of them they were just squalls and kids anyway wouldn't put up much of a fight furlong's eye seemed to light up at the prospect of violence of conflict and bloodshed his thin smile began to cut further into his cheeks as the story unfolded I put him up to it after all them dumb sons of bitches did whatever I said because they knew I'd take their goddamn heads if they said any different Cormac said seeming almost nostalgic for his fallen brothers though his voice was tinged with inflections of sadness so me and the boys killed the whole lot of them left none alive and we rode off having a high old time indeed mr. Marston indeed what happened after that we rode on the next day not thinking nothing of it and especially not expecting any retribution over it but around midday and this is what maybe a week ago now a whole bunch of screaming wailing apaches come down on us with the wrath of god in their hearts jesus it was 30 against 300 we never stood a goddamn chance they shot the hell out of the boys killed every last one of them and one of the cheeky some bitches put a bullet in my shoulder while I was hot tailing it out of there while telling this part of the tale Cormac pointed towards the wound in his shoulder for emphasis furlong merely smiled and nodded since then I've been riding day and night no food no water no nothing and now I'm here talking to some big freaking nature in a desert boneyard that extensive enough for you furlong the soft-spoken giant that was Herman furlong gave a polite golf clap in a single peptic chuckle that seemed to jangle insultingly in Marston's ear canals this was his response to Cormac's tale of tragedy the tale of the massacre of apache women and children and every last one of Marston's gang it was like little more than some roadside puppet show to him I have three wagers for you Cormac not one less not one more I will present them to you one by one with the accompanying stakes I shall offer you what I stand to lose in each instant as well as stating my demands of you should I win the given wager is that clear mr. Marston crystal good my boy very good indeed we'll have a grand old time Cormac felt a chill like cold sweat trickled down his back the kind only a fella like Herman furlong in all his bizarre monstrous glory could instill in a man he had no reason to trust the strange giant who sat among bones and laughed at stories of violence and misery but the alternative was certain death in a seemingly endless desert this was at worst at least a distraction from the inevitability of it all without speaking furlong pointed to one of his bone spires about 40 feet away one made from the skull of an antelope sitting atop the straightened spine of a crocodile propped up at the collective elbow of four skeletal horse legs my first wager mr. Marston is an easy one you have one shot and with that shot you must topple the skull of the antelope from that bone totem in the distance Marston squinted until it became more defined in his vision he could see cavernous eye sockets and two slender horns protruding from the skull and for a moment considered why he shouldn't simply turn the gun on furlong instead he realized that perhaps furlong's true value wasn't something that could be looted from his corpse perhaps as a man who looked composed and well groomed in the center of a desert he knew a quick way out of this hell i accept your wager kormack said his voice unwavering you haven't heard the terms yet my boy furlong said reaching into a suit pocket and producing a metal canteen should i win your boots become mine if you win my canteen and the water inside it becomes yours do you accept my wager kormack thought at length about the water in furlong's canteen when it was on the table he finally became aware of the sheer depth of his own thirst his throat felt like it was crumbling into dust his stomach ached his kidneys throbbed he hadn't taken a decent piss in days he nodded frantically more motivated to win than ever with furlong's smile of approval kormack leveled the revolver and lined the antelope skull up between his iron sights he felt as though he was preparing to assassinate the devil from here the horns were visible just above the sights he exhaled squeeze the trigger and a brilliant blast of sound tore through the silence of the desert in a split second the antelope skull exploded into shards of enamel a deep cavity tearing through the forehead and fell in two pieces from the tip of furlong's totem well done my boy very well done indeed he said tossing the small sloshing canteen into kormack's eager palms there's your prize you've certainly earned it marston was ferocious barely even unscrewing the lid before he tore it from the canteen and began drinking from it to his surprise no matter how much he drank water seemed to keep flowing as the furlong's canteen was truly bottomless the kormack took no time to question the logic of things he drank like it was the first time in his life my second wager mr. marston is somewhat higher stakes furlong said with pronounced glee running his gloved hands through his silver mane should i win my prize is your gun however if you win all part with the directions back to civilization kormack's eyes lit up this seems too good to be true he thought to himself though his mind now flooded with thoughts of escape quickly washed away any inklings of doubt what rings will furlong expect me to jump through in order to achieve that i accept your wager your challenge is to shoot the four playing cards i placed at our feet kormack i expect to see a bullet hole through every one of them if you wish to win this game now a lesser man would have assumed that furlong wanted him to fire into the four cards while they were laid out right in front of him but kormack for all his faults was far too crafty for that in the next instant furlong's great foot came swooping down and swept up the cards in a cloud of pale dust casting them into the air without a moment to spare kormack raised the barrel of his pistol and fired off four shots at the speed of a typewriter clicking away and as if by magic every card two black eights and two black aces fluttered to the ground with perfect holes in their centers even furlong seemed impressed now you give me the directions out of this god damn shit heap furlong don't worry my boy i'm a man of my word there's a settlement 200 miles east of here where you can eat and sleep on a horse you can probably make the journey in approximately two days perhaps three with your horse it's likely you'll stay alive until that point with the help of my canteen and with that kormack was sated he had no further desire to gamble when he finally had the knowledge and the means to escape the desert alive he began silently untying lycaster from his skeletal steed but what of the third wager mr. Marston not interested i've played enough of these games will you at least hear me out no need i'm sorry if i wasted your time furlong's black eyes burned in frustration his firm cadence had grown to be imploring but he would not be denied mr. Marston though you may have your small minded head jammed elsewhere it has escaped your attention that once you've eaten and slept you will awake two indigents you are penniless your friends and companions are dead and scalped and though you may have escaped the desert you will die amidst urban squalor in your poverty kormack paused and looked back at him his face hard and unkind but moved by furlong's depressingly accurate assertions into giving the cruel man his undivided attention for the very last time i however can remedy this situation for you mr. Marston as you may be able to tell i am a man of means a man of great affluence should you win my next wager i will assure that you will be richer than you could even imagine you could buy and sell all your old compatriots a thousand times over and still be the wealthiest man in the state marston would be lying if he said that it didn't tempt him it was a drive for wealth that made him form that accursed gang in the first place when they were government sanctioned scalp hunters rather than brutish criminals if he obtained the wealth that furlong pitched he'd never have to work another day in his life he could live in comfort until the day he died what do you get if you win kormack asked with a voice almost timid seduced by furlong's riches your horse replied furlong his great arm extended in a thick finger pointed towards lycaster what's the challenge kormack asked weighing up all the pros and cons the risks and rewards look high above you marston look to the red sky painted by the setting sun he craned his head upwards and saw it circling a single vulture around and around in a single arc as though it was manipulated by gravity rather than its own volition there's your target kormack if you can shoot that vulture then you can return to civilization wealthier than you ever imagined and if you lose well your horse becomes my property there was a moment of complete silence i accept your wager furlong grinned if he could shoot the cards then the bird could surely be no problem kormack leveled his pistol until the vulture flapped its wings between the iron sights of the cold double action revolver he exhaled a shot was fired and the bird squawked in pain as a bullet pierced its torso and it pitched down to the earth below perishing upon contact marston felt the breath leave his body his skin tightened and what little water was in his system began to escape as sweat his pupils dilated his muscles tensed painfully he hadn't fired his shot kormack turned his head to face furlong who was carrying a smith and wesson model two revolver in one of his great gloved hands with wisps of smoke climbing from the barrel a deal's a deal mr marston furlong said with a sickening chuckle as he leveled his own pistol and fired around into lycester's head splattering ruby colored arterial blood onto the bleached bones behind him as the dead horse collapsed into the dust marston's mouth was a gape that bastard cheated that bastard cheated and he shot my only way out of this nightmare you lying son of a bitch kormack said as he raised his pistol to fire his final shot into furlong's grinning mug two shots rang out neither of them kormack's the first shot crashed into his colt double action destroying the cylinder and tearing it from his hands the second shot tore into kormack's knuckles sending two fingers flying down into the dirt while blood spurred it from the stumps on his injured hand i never told you a single lie mr marston i don't appreciate the slander furlong said with a twisted grin while marston held his injured hand in agony blood pouring in gouts from between his fingers everything i've done has been in accordance with our arrangement kormack looked at his mangled hand then back at furlong with true hatred in his eyes you bastard you sick bastard i'll kill you before kormack could take a single step furlong pointed his revolver downwards and fired the two remaining shots one found their way to each of kormack's kneecaps shattering them and sending him down with a thump to the dusty ground writhing in crippling pain his hand bled as did both knees while the excruciating burning sensation that comes part and parcel with getting shot worked it's magic any subsequent punishment has purely been self-defense mr marston kormack squirmed but beyond that he couldn't move the pain was beyond thought it transcended imagination his hand was destroyed his gun was destroyed his legs were both useless his horse was dead the injuries weren't fatal but furlong had killed him with every bullet he'd hammered another nail into his coffin if it's any consolation kormack furlong said while stepping closer you did still win two out of three wagers it's an impressive testament to your skills as a marksman speed however you lacked and if one should pay for anything then it should be a shortcoming of skill don't you agree kormack simply breathe the words go to hell and continue to squirm furlong in response pressed his foot quite slowly down onto kormack's shattered kneecaps and gave a smile when his screams tore through the tranquility of the cold desert night why did you do this kormack moaned shoot you no all of it why did you make this place why did you give me the wagers why the canteen why the directions why the bird why all of it kormack had broken down and begun to sob violently in pain and resignation oh that's quite simple furlong said dropping to one knee and looking at kormack eye to eye because you'd lost hope you were ready to die you'd accepted it no man should die without hope kormack don't you agree in stunned silence kormack simply looked back at furlong as the wind carried those last three words don't you agree in an echo that seemed almost eternal furlong grinned his body and face crumbling into dust and sand pouring out amongst the bones and blowing away in the wind the canteen dissolved into nothingness as did the elephant skull and every other bone as though they'd aged a thousand years in mere seconds even the body of a lie caster crumbled into dust and ash until all that was left was kormack surrounded by a kingdom of dust he screamed one more time though this time there wasn't a soul to hear it for all he knew he was the last man on earth screaming into darkness into emptiness then when his voice grew hoarse and the water turned to dust and his throat he grew silent again alone with his thoughts no more furlong no more lie caster no more wagers no more oasis of bones just him and the pain and his memories to keep him company kormack marston laid dying in the endless desert and he'd never felt so alone