Nell had been doing this for a year, so I trusted her judgment. That night, we ate some decent food and told some stories. She regaled me with some of her best bounties, and I, of course, told her all about the Parroia escapades she had missed out on, though they seemed extremely tame compared to her adventures.
I took first watch. I probably needed the sleep more, since it had been a very long day and it was my first day on the road, but I was too excited. We switched out after a few hours. And I’m proud to say I only nodded off once—briefly—before she relieved me..
When Nell woke me in the morning just after dawn, I was pleased to see that all of my belongings were still with me. Shoes and hat? Secured. My bludgel? Still within easy grabbable distance.
It was officially my first truly successful night on the road, and I planned for many, many more. Hopefully with none of the previous morning’s nonsense.
We traveled along the western road toward Cactus Head. True to its name, there were large clusters of cacti sprouting up all along the countryside. We’d transitioned from the dry, grassy plains and sparkly forested area around Parroia to this arid expanse. The Cardinal Plateau could still be seen off to our right to the north, though for now, it was quite distant.
The cacti ranged in size from small plants to huge, towering things the size of trees and every size in between. They crowded around us for long stretches, effectively fencing in the road. I wondered if that was a natural thing or if travelers had planted them to make the way here seem more obvious. It was clearly a road now, but I was sure when people first traveled here, they had little more than dirt paths.
I was enjoying the scenery and enjoying the company. We didn’t talk all too much. I guess we were both still thinking about Valentine and what Nell had gone through. But we cracked some jokes, made passing observations, and we both hummed and whistled intermittently.
So, our travel was not unpleasant, but with the sun bearing down on us and the long walk, my legs and feet hurt! And I was exhausted already, and it wasn’t even lunch yet.
“Do you always walk everywhere?” I asked her.
Nell shook her head. “Nah. It depends on where I’m going. If I need to get somewhere far away, I’ll take a train as far as I can. Or I’ll take a carriage. I used to have a camel, but she—poor thing—she got taken by a Barrowtrap. I was lucky I wasn’t swallowed whole with her.”
“Wow, that sounds awful and horrifying.”
“Yeah. I was still new to the bounty hunter game at that time. Only a couple of months removed from what happened at Azalea, and I think I was still in shock. Unfortunately, horses, camels, and the like cost money, and you have to maintain them, both with food and water and also with love. I’m not sure I’m ready for that sort of investment.”
I nodded. I’d never had a horse or any sort of pet before, so I didn’t know much about the bond one could have with them. I had worked in the stables outside of Parroia for a time after Deebo passed just to make ends meet though. The horses, camels, and bison liked me well enough, and I enjoyed it, but I didn’t bond with any of them too much before I went to a new job.
But a Barrowtrap? That was gruesome. They were basically large subterranean Venus flytraps. Their large teeth weren’t easy to spot because they blended in with the Badlands landscape and often looked like sharp rocks or sun cypress knees. They came out of the Fissures a long time ago, but I had no clue how they had done it since they weren’t mobile as far as I knew. They were considered plant monsters, so it was possible that some monster from beyond the Fissures had Barrowtrap seeds on them, and that’s how they came to our world. One thing I knew: I didn’t want to fall into one. It was a slow and painful death as the Barrowtrap digested you.
Maybe once I was in Mushyon Ridge, and if I had enough money, I could get a horse. I didn’t want to have to walk everywhere. I should have the money . . . and I was sure to not fall into a Barrowtrap. I was older and smarter than Nell had been at the time.
We walked along for a time in silence. My feet hurt, but I fell into a nice rhythm and put the pain and discomfort from my mind. I hummed, watched the sky, watched the vultures circle in the distance. Even further, a train whistle blared. It sounded southwestern, so maybe near Mushyon Ridge, maybe a bit closer. The trains didn’t follow this road all the time and didn’t stop at all the small towns. The tracks often hugged the Hather’s and crossed it, too, going south and then back north and doing a dance around the north side of the river.
I was too in my head and almost ran into Nell, who had slowed to a stop. Nell held up her hand for me to halt. I did so and was about to ask about it, but she shushed me as she tilted her head to listen. I did the same, now curious. My body tensed, as I was expecting a fight of some kind. I wasn’t really in the mood for one, but there was always danger around the corner in the Badlands. Even if you’re on a well-trafficked dirt road next to a large expanse of corn.
Huh, I hadn’t noticed it until just then, but rolling southward was an uneven field of corn, their stalks tall and strong. Well, some were. More weren’t. A lot slumped, wilted and dying. Breaking up the expanse were more clusters of cacti, so I was able to see into the maze a bit. The leaves and stalks were unkempt and messy, not the same healthy green that farm corn usually was, so I wondered if this was a wild crop. Though, so close to a road, it would make more sense if someone had planted them and claimed this field. Who knew?
Nell kept listening, and I did the same. I didn’t hear anything at first beyond the low constant whistle of the wind and the cawing of crows. But then, I heard it. A distant cry for help. It sounded far, but close enough that they had to be in the corn or right on the other side.
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She didn’t even hesitate. Nell took off, vaulting over the low wall of cacti to her left and leaving the road at a run, heading straight for the corn.
I followed after her, letting her lead the way through the stalks with her scythe at the ready. The large blade of the weapon was much more adept at clearing the way. I was sure the farmer who owned this land wouldn’t be pleased, but helping someone out of danger took precedent over the feelings of a farmer. Assuming there was a farmer . . . or assuming the person calling for help wasn’t the farmer themselves.
We passed rows and rows of cornstalks, none of them looking very appetizing or healthy. It was about to be harvest season, and these should have looked straight, bright green, and vibrant. But that could only be said to describe a few stalks of corn. A few sections at a time. The vast majority were brown and slumped, and their cobs of corn were sickly pale and covered in black spots. I shivered. I knew eating any of it would not be a good idea.
Nell pushed through, getting closer to the cries. As we did, it became clear that it belonged to a man. The voice was slurred, low, and worried. Perhaps a bit drunk. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The droning hiss that followed the latest cries was not normal, however. A long cry with a constant series of chittering and clicks.
Nell stopped, and I slammed into her. She stood her ground, barely noticing me. She didn’t even take the opportunity to give me a reprimand.
No, instead, her brows pinched tight in concentration and consternation. She knew that sound; that much was obvious. I was sure it belonged to a monster of some kind. I knew a bit about monsters myself, as Deebo had a basic monster bestiary, but it wasn’t a very extensive one, and I was sure I didn’t have the same working knowledge that an expert hunter might have.
Nell gulped. “That’s a Cactimite swarm. I’d know that hissing drone anywhere. We have to hurry. Whoever it’s hunting won’t last long.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. Nell took off again, and we redoubled our efforts to get there first, or at least, keep the swarm from causing too much pain to our their as-of-yet unknown target.
I’d never seen a live Cactimite, but I’d seen dead ones at the market, and I’d read about them. They were pests, small monsters about the size of a pumpkin at their biggest. They resembled round cacti, with pale green-and-brown skins and prickly spines barbed on the end so if they stuck you with the spines, it would be hell to get them out. They were like bees or wasps and lived in hives underground, usually under cacti clusters for obvious reasons.
Their insides did taste good and were used to make broth and alcohol. But they were very dangerous in large swarming numbers.
We ran harder. The cries grew louder, more confused, and slurred. The stalks slapped against my face, the leaves both tough and wispy. I eventually got a cob to the face, smacking me in the mouth, and got a mouthful of that blackness that covered a lot of the stalks. It was fuzzy and tasted awful. I spat it out immediately.
Yeah, this is bad corn!
The droning became too loud to ignore, too clear to not guess what it was. Nell ran with a frantic energy, unusual for her, but I supposed she really wanted to save the man being attacked. When we’d fought the bandits, we had the element of surprise, and we were fighting bad men who were not an immediate threat or danger to anyone nearby. But this was different. Someone was in danger, and if we didn’t act, they could die. So, I understood her urgency.
I was glad she had it still. Back when she lived in Parroia, she’d always been something of a protector to some of the other kids. If she caught you picking on another kid, bullying, attacking, or what have you, she’d come at you with a righteous fury.
Honestly, given that, I was surprised she was a bounty hunter and not a sheriff or deputy. I supposed this was the only way she could go and find Valentine. Lawmen had to stay in their towns for the most part. They didn’t have the freedom to roam the Badlands in search of their quarries like she could. Plus, hunters of men and monsters needed to be able to move around.
I wondered if she would have become a lawman had Azalea not been attacked. If she had, would she have ever come back? Would I have ever seen her again?
A sharp whine of pain pierced the air. Definitely didn’t belong to the man, as it was high-pitched and nonhuman. We were almost there.
I ran for all I was worth, ignoring the stalks of corn that slapped at me and the cacti needles that sliced my legs.
Nell launched herself between two thick cacti and then wound up her scythe and sliced down a wall of corn. And we came upon the scene.
She was right about the Cactimites. There were probably a dozen of them, maybe a few more. They chittered and swarmed around a scarecrow that sat in the middle of the clearing. And it was a clearing, a wide-open expanse of dead grass, bone-dry dirt, and dead stalks of corn that lay scattered about in black-and-brown heaps. Could the Cactimites have been the cause of it? They probably had a nest beneath the fields, and it was possible they were messing with the corn’s nutrients.
Monster Detected: Cactimite
Cactimites are annoying little insectoid monsters that burrow in the ground below cacti and lay in wait pretending to be cacti to ensnare unsuspecting animals and humans. They have a hive mind, often living in swarms of a dozen or more, but that doesn’t make them smart. They hunt with a singular purpose of stripping flesh and meat from their prey. They can’t jump, but they are quick and nimble otherwise. Long sweeping weapons are recommended.
The bestiary my uncle owned was filled with fine detailed sketches of a lot of monsters. The book gave cross sections of some and relevant angles of others. For the Cactimites, I remembered that they had small leechlike mouths on the bottoms of their bodies, surrounded by their little legs. They’d strip you of your skin first, then burrow into your muscles. I didn’t want to feel that. It probably wasn’t fun, I reckoned.
I searched frantically for our victim. It wasn't hard to find him, truth be told, though he was doing his best to blend in. A man clung to the scarecrow, and somehow, the scarecrow looked better dressed than him, wearing a messy straw hat, a blue shirt, vest, and brown trousers over its straw-and-burlap body.
The victim, on the other hand, wore a ratty black cloak that hugged his body loosely like a poncho. It was full of holes, rips, and some stains, and it was hard to tell if they were old or new due to the Cactimites. His hood shadowed his face, but I could tell that he had a bandana over his mouth and nose. The black-and-gray cloth had some design that I couldn’t discern.
He had only one hand on the scarecrow, and he clung to it like he was twirling with a dance partner. He spun around the thing, somehow maintaining his hold and balance. In his non-occupied hand, he held a bottle, and I saw more empty ones littering the ground beneath the tiny legs of the monsters. Along with the bottles, a fine double-bladed axe lay nearby shining in the sunlight. Of course, it was out of reach of the man and thus useless.
“What the hell?” Nell asked, confused by what we were seeing.
The man didn’t look like he was wounded or even in danger. The Cactimites were small, and even the biggest one, which was about the size of a very large pumpkin, only rose to midway up the scarecrow’s pole, and the victim was higher still. Cactimites couldn't jump. They could dig and kill but not jump.
I didn’t know what the man did to get himself into this mess, but I knew we wouldn’t ignore him, even if we were confused on the hows and whys of this predicament.
As he twirled, the man spotted us and waved his bottle over his head. “Hello, friends,” he called, the fear gone from his voice, which now sounded friendly. Somehow, the Cactimites must have sensed our approach, which I supposed wasn’t very stealthy, because a few of them broke off from their swarm and started to scuttle our way.
Nell and I shared a look. We brandished our long weapons, fortuitously perfect for this fight, and we flung ourselves into the fray.