Through the Gates of Hell

Chapter Six

Being a gunslinger, in Maggie’s experience, was a matter of seeing things in slow motion. She called it “seeing the bullet.” When it happened, it was like she could literally see the bullet as it flew through the air and aim it however she wished. When she could see the bullet, everything else seemed to slow way down until the rest of the world was like a blurry shadow, and only her target was clear and in focus. It didn’t matter if her target was a wooden bullseye, a tin can, a poker card, a man’s heart, or the disgusting flesh of a monstrous tentacle. When Maggie saw the bullet, it was like she could move the bullet in mid-air and direct it unerringly toward its target.

She figured most people could see the bullet in their own way. A prospector like Walt might touch the walls of a mine and sense a rich vein of ore concealed within. A Marshall like Robert might follow his intuition to track a wanted fugitive. A religious person like Eleanor might sense the hand of God in some mundane daily event. It was all basically the same thing.

Half a dozen giant blue tentacle things lay dead around them, riddled with bullets and buckshot, oozing bright green blood, and two of them smoldering with stinking black smoke. There was a moment when Maggie didn’t know if they were going to make it. Her hands remained surprisingly steady as she reloaded her pistols. She had already used up all the bullets she had brought, and was now loading bullets from the extra box Robert had given her.

Standing a pace behind her, Eleanor was on her knees, engaged in prayer. Their lantern was on the dirt floor, casting long shadows, and the air was rank with the acrid smell of the scorched tentacles. Walt was standing among the horrible things, looking around at them with a dazed expression, his gory pickaxe hanging in his hand. He lifted his gaze to look at Eleanor, and the look on his grizzled face was something like awe mixed with suspicion. For once, Maggie felt like she agreed with him.

No one spoke, but none of them could possibly deny what they had seen. Somehow, Eleanor had called out to God and set those creatures on fire like some kind of magician casting a spell. Maggie wasn’t sure what unnerved her more, the huge flailing tentacles, or Eleanor calling down fire upon them the way she did. She had heard of preachers calling down the Hellfire on their congregations, but this was something else entirely.

“… and with your grace, we will find them and bring them home. In Jesus’ name, Amen,” Eleanor whispered. She wiped her brow and let out a long breath before getting back to her feet. She saw Maggie looking at her and merely gave a smile. She appeared unfazed, or quite possibly oblivious, to what had happened.

“So what now?” Walt grunted. “Are we gonna …”

He hesitated and Maggie looked up from her gun. She stuck it into its holster and turned to see Robert leaning against the wall on the other side of the chamber entrance. She had known he was standing there, but had been preoccupied with reloading her weapons and trying to calm her nerves. But now she realized with a start that Robert seemed to be sick or injured. He was breathing heavily and leaning against the wall, as if it was the only keeping him standing upright.

“Robert?” she asked, hurrying over. “What it is? Oh, God, you’re hurt!”

He groaned in response and shook his head in frustration. “No, just give me a minute. I’m fine, I’m just …”

“You’re not fine,” Maggie said tensely. “You’re hurt. What happened?”

Robert had taken a few hits in the fight. Maggie had briefly glimpsed one of the tentacles knock him down, and another one had wrapped around his chest. She wondered if Robert had broken a rib or something like that, but Robert didn’t look like he was suffering from an injury. He looked sick, with a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his skin had taken on a pale complexion.

He gritted his teeth and shook his head again in frustration. “It’s my damn leg, where that spider thing bit me. It feels like it’s on fire. It’s making me dizzy, throwing my aim off.”

Eleanor and Walt came over as well. Eleanor raised the lantern to better illuminate Robert’s sickly appearance and said, “You don’t look well, Robert. Perhaps you should sit down and let us take another look at your leg.”

“We don’t have time –” he protested.

“We aren’t going to get much farther if we don’t do something,” Maggie snapped. “We barely managed to fight those things off just now. What if we run into something even worse? We need you healthy, Robert. Now lay down.”

Reluctantly, the Marshall did as he was told. He laid down and set his hat on the ground beside him. Maggie attempted to roll his pant leg up, but gave up and took out her knife to cut it open instead. Eleanor knelt in the dirt beside her and helped unwrap the scarf tied around his calf. Underneath, the spider bite wound looked much worse than before. It was puffy and red, the skin around the bite mark turned whitish green.

“Walt,” Maggie said. “You said this bite won’t kill him?”

“Far as I know, it won’t,” Walt replied, looking down at the wound with his hands on his hips. To Maggie’s surprise, he actually looked concerned. “I ain’t no doctor. I said he might get real sick.”

“What can we do?”

Robert wiped his brow and took a few long breaths, as if he was having trouble breathing. He looked down at his leg and bared his teeth in frustration. “God damn it all,” he muttered.

“Please, don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Eleanor said. Maggie didn’t think she was actually listening to what Robert said. Her comment was like an automatic reflex. She placed one hand on Robert’s leg and with the other she gripped the cross hanging around her neck.

“I would like to try something,” she said. “Robert, I’m going to pray for you. Is that okay?”

“Pray for me?” he asked. “Sure. Of course you can …”

Eleanor had the same wild look in her eyes that she did when the tentacle had burst into flames. She looked like a woman possessed, her face glowing with a fierce excitement, eyes darting back and forth, her lips pulled back in a manic smile. Maggie recognized it as the look of deranged religious fervor. Maggie pulled her hands away from Robert and let Eleanor take over.

“Lord,” Eleanor said, closing her eyes tightly. “Heal this man. I pray for you to give him strength and purge the poison from his blood. This man has brought us here on a holy mission to save the innocent, and without him, we are doomed.” Her voice took on a greater resonance as she spoke louder, raising her hand up. “Lord! I pray for you to bless this good man, who has brought us here to do battle against evil! He has been gravely injured and needs your healing touch!”

Maggie watched, transfixed, as Eleanor cried out for aid. Somehow, Walt had crept up next to her and was watching in equal fascination. The prospector clutched his hands as if to stop them from shaking, his dark eyes glimmering with light from the lantern.

Maggie blinked and rubbed her eyes. Somehow, there was a glowing light emanating from around Eleanor, shining like an aura or a halo. The entire mine chamber seemed to light up as she continued to cry out, her voice pouncing in Maggie’s ears like a chant or the arcane words to some magic spell.

“Heal this man so that he may continue your good work!” she called out, raising her arm high. “Cure the evil poison that has afflicted him! Oh Lord, please hear my call!”

Her hands glowed white and Walt’s leg glittered like it was covered in silvery dust. The light became so bright that Maggie had to shield her eyes, and she heard Walt whimper in fear and cower back away from the shining light. For just a moment, both Eleanor and Robert were swallowed up by the light, and then it rapidly faded and went out, and the room went mostly dark again, the only light coming from their lantern.

Eleanor gasped and flopped over onto her backside, propping herself up with her hands. She looked dazed, her hair tangled and messy around her face, her eyes dumbly staring around at nothing.

Robert, equally dazed, tried to get into a sitting position, and Maggie hurried over to help him sit upright. He wiped his face and ran his hand through his hair.

“What in the world …?” he said as both he and Maggie looked down at his leg.

The area where the spider bite had been was still a bit swollen, but the bite mark itself was gone, along with the diseased-looking flesh around it. The skin had closed right up around it, leaving nothing more than a tiny red bump. As far as they could see, the wound was almost completely healed.

Maggie and Robert just looked at each other, unsure what to say.

Eleanor held her cross against her chest and just breathed slowly, her eyes closed and a serene expression on her face. For a few long moments, none of them spoke.

“That,” Walt said, breaking the silence, “was the damnedest thing I ever seen.”

“It’s a …” Maggie stammered, “… a miracle?”

Robert marveled at his uninjured leg, and then cautiously got to his feet. He tested his leg and put weight on it to make sure it didn’t hurt at all. Brushing dirt from his hat, he returned it to his head.

“I’ve heard lots of preachers say they could heal the sick,” he said, “but that’s the first time I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Eleanor got to her feet quickly, before Maggie or Robert had a chance to help her up. “Only Jesus can heal the sick,” she said calmly, patting dirt from her black dress. She straightened and tried to smooth out her frazzled hair, with no noticeable result. It was clear to the others that she was still under the effect of whatever frenzy had taken her, but she was trying to cover it up.

Eleanor continued, her voice unsure, almost as if she was talking to herself. “But someone might … if they are true and of pure faith …” she said, and halted, trying to come to terms with what she had accomplished, “they might become a … a vessel for God’s love … and achieve great things in His name.”

“Is that in the Bible?” Walt asked. “Or are you just guessin’?”

Robert picked up his shotgun. “Knock if off, Walt. If you ask me, it doesn’t matter if Eleanor healed me or of God himself just came down and did it. We came here to save those people, and every minute we stand here is another minute they might not survive.”

He walked over to Eleanor and put his hand on her shoulder. “Eleanor. Thank you. I don’t know what else I can say. But if we’re truly doing God’s work down here, then we better get moving.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, nodding. “We are on a holy mission. We must not delay.”

They all prepared to move on. Robert tucked the ripped hem of his pant leg into his boot and walked around to make sure he didn’t have any soreness or stiffness in his leg. Eleanor took a handkerchief from Maggie and used it to tie back her hair and keep it out of her face.

Walt sidled up to Maggie as they got ready. He said quietly, “Do you believe any of that stuff? You reckon she really healed him?”

Maggie didn’t like having Walt that close to her. “I don’t know what I think,” she said honestly. “But if I get hurt, I sure hope she can do it again.”

Walt grunted. “Fair enough.”

“Everyone ready?” Robert asked, standing at the opening to the next section of tunnel. He checked to make sure his shotgun was loaded, and then snapped it closed with a loud click. “Then let’s go.”

<--Previous Chapter|Next Chapter-->