Capeworld Comics

The Fourth Day

As before, Mr. Reeves awoke first, checked to see that Mr. Leeds was fast asleep in his office, and prepared breakfast. He also checked the electrograph for messages, for he assumed Fort Bowie would have something to say about the Red Ghost still roaming Eagle Creek, and he was right.

“The garrison at Fort Bowie sent an electrogram.” He informed his English guests over breakfast.

“Hmph.” Joseph exclaimed. “Let me guess, they want us to know that they have the utmost faith in our abilities and are praying for our success.”

Mr. Reeves smirked. “No. Not even close.”

“I thought so.” Joseph said.

“They’re urging us, in the strongest possible words that they dare use, to put a swift end to the bloody rampage of the Red Ghost.”

“Good Lord.” Joseph muttered. “This is only the fourth day. There’s only been one death. I don’t mean to sound like I’m belittling what happened to poor Ms. Richards, but Mr. Reeves, you’ve hunted down murderers before, human murderers, and did the authorities ever give you grief just four days into your manhunt?”

“Not once.”

“Of course! I swear, I don’t think mankind is ever going to stamp out ghost shyness. Some people will always be ghost shy–especially people in power, it seems! It’s always the the authorities that can’t stand ghosts. I bet it’s because they can’t tax them.”

“You’re probably right. Indians make them nervous for the same reason. It’s why they keep trying to make citizens out of them.”

“Have you sent a reply?” Matthew asked. “Tell them the Red Ghost’s haunting should be resolved today.”

“Tell them it’s a camel.” Joseph said. “Imagine the look on their faces when they read that!”

“I’ve already sent a reply.” Mr. Reeves said. “I told them we’re going to run the Zacare Operation against it today. I didn’t tell them about it being a camel, though.”

“Ah, why not?” Joseph asked.

“I thought I’d save such things for after we affix the Red Ghost.” Mr. Reeves answered. “They already think we’re incompetent, I don’t want them to think we’re insane.”

When they had finished breakfast, they flew Whisper out to a remote place along Eagle Creek, far from any homes. They were sure they would be able to affix the Red Ghost, but experience had taught them that a little caution could save a lot of grief. If anything happened, they wanted to make sure that an angry ghost wouldn’t be placed somewhere it could harm people.

Matthew produced his gaeite candle. “I’ll begin.”

He pressed a button on the metal base of his candle then turned a knob to the right as far as it would go.

A bubble of olprt radiance bloomed in the Arizona territory, stretching for miles in all directions. A tiny sun bloomed like a flower in the Arizona wilderness.

Matthew gathered his thoughts, then began.

A Dyeus King recalled the previous king to the throne room. He arrived with a sly grin. Of course, he would be needed. He had arranged things well before the assassination to make sure that he would be needed.

The Zacare Operation.

Far into the distance, a red beast walked out of the air. Its long legs stamped down into the yielding earth like tentpoles driven by a hammer. Now that the manesologists were aware of what was on its back, they could clearly see the skeleton bobbing up and down on its back. Time and dusty winds had eaten away the skin, but the ligaments still held firm.

“Do we affix him now, Matthew?” Joseph asked.

“No. Not now.” Matthew answered. “He doesn’t detect us, we’re well outside his Astral hand. Let’s try and study his habits before he starts kicking and screaming.”

“If he starts heading this way we need to move, so be ready for that.” Mr. Reeves said. “That acute sensitivity of his means as soon as we brush up his Astral hand, he’s going to either run from us, or charge at us.”

“Spyglasses, everyone.” Matthew said.

The group produced spyglasses made with gaeite lenses. The light seen through their amber-colored ends could be altered with simple Operations to produce clear images of the naturally invisible well beyond the range of conventional gaeite candles. In the case of a ghost that was already visible, the spyglasses were still useful as spyglasses.

Through their spyglasses, the men could see the Red Ghost and its white rider in clear, gruesome detail.

“Look at that!” Joseph exclaimed. “God, there’s still some flesh hanging off the bones.”

“I think that’s clothing.” Martin said. He took a closer look. “No, wait, I was wrong. It’s clothing and flesh. Oh God, I think he died in the saddle. I think he died slowly.”

“Very slowly.” Mr. Reeves said. “Look down at his legs and waist and you’ll see what I mean.”

The Englishmen did so, and saw leather straps so tightly bound to the desiccated legs that they almost seemed a part of him, like drooping strips of peeled skin only partially cut from the muscle.

The straps vanished beneath the red fur of the ghost camel. The straps had evidently been on for a long, long time. Raw flesh and matted fur must have grown over the straps, and the ectoplasmic body of the ghost camel mirrored the poor fate of the living camel.

‘Martin, your eyes have a way of sussing out the difference between physical matter and ectoplasm.” Joseph said. “What are those straps?”

“They’re physical matter.” Martin said. “I was right. Some poor man died in the saddle, but what’s more, someone lashed him to it. Even after he died, the camel continued to carry him. Even after the camel died, the camel continued to carry him. Oh, that’s so hellish!”

“Maybe when the Union retook Camp Verde they tied a Confederate soldier to a camel and made it go, just to torture the poor man?” Joseph suggested.

“Both sides did things like that to each other.” Mr. Reeves said. “So it’s certainly possible. But another explanation is that the man could have been learning to ride his camel.” Mr. Reeves suggested. “I’ve heard of people that tie themselves to their horses when they’re just learning how to ride. Maybe the man wanted to ride a camel. Maybe he was a Jefferson Davis fan and purchased one from Arabia, or maybe he was a Confederate soldier and picked one up when they first took Camp Verde. Regardless, my guess is that the camel got spooked by something, broke into a gallop, and he could never get the straps undone.”

“Amazing how just one innocent mistake like that can end a man.” Joseph said.

“Wait! Everyone be quiet!” Mr. Reeves held up a hand. “Quiet! You hear that?”

The manesologists strained their ears to listen to the wind. Joseph’s old ears couldn’t hear a thing, but Martin and Matthew heard a voice as dry and creaky as the bones strapped to the camel.

“Water…water…take me to water…”

“God, poor man went an awful way.” Mr. Reeves said. “Better a bullet to the head than that.”

“What’s he saying?” Joseph asked.

“Water.” Martin said. “He’s begging for water.”

“Oh. Then I can see why the man manifested as his mount.” Joseph said. “Think about it. The poor man is tied to a camel. His body is baking in the sun. He’s dying. His only hope is that his camel leads him to water, and it’s a damn thin hope considering how long camels can go without water. His mind starts to go. But he thinks, in his last thoughts, that if the camel keeps going, he can stay alive. He starts to will the camel to take another step, just another step. He starts to think of himself as the camel. And now, as a ghost, he is the camel.”

“I know I’d rather think of myself as the beast over the poor man attached to it.” Martin said.

“I just remembered something, gentleman.” Mr. Reeves said. “Mrs. Richards was killed while watering the cattle. And the bear was killed close to the creek. Parts of it were even in the water. It may have been trying to get a drink when the Red Ghost came upon it.”

“So the Red Ghost killed them to try and get at their water.” Joseph said.

“Seems that way.” Mr. Reeves said.

“Then there’s something I don’t understand.” Martin said. “Eagle Creek is right there. He’s been sighted going up and down the creek since his haunting began. Lucid the Red Ghost is clearly not, but he’s been around here long enough to figure out that the creek is full of water, and he was certainly aware of it when he killed that grizzly, so why is he roaming around? Why isn’t he by the creek constantly drinking?”

“Let’s find out. It’s time for an experiment.” Matthew said. “Martin, could you tell your dogs to gouge out a little furrow from the creek?”

“Hold on, Matthew.” Joseph said. “We should try a different water source. Let’s eliminate the possibility that something about the creek makes him hesitant to drink from it.”

Martin spread his arms out and gestured to the dry wilderness around them. “A different water source, such as?”

“The Sky Witch.” Joseph answered.

“You’re going to call her?” Mr. Reeves asked.

“Yes.” Matthew said.

“Are you sure you want to do that? If I remember your reports correctly, she’s a little exuberant when it comes to requests.”

“We recruited her before Blackwall was even built. She does have a spirit to her, but she can be trusted to act so long as what’s requested of her pertains to lightning, wind, and rain. The Bancroft incident you’re probably thinking about happened because we asked her to dry up a body of water, not create one. We won’t make that mistake here.”

“So she’s all about service, rain or shine.” Mr. Reeves said. “Like a US postman.”

“Well, in her case, service in rain, but never shine.” Matthew said.

He closed his eyes and called to the Sky Witch. His thoughts reached out to her across the planet, reached out to her all the way at her remote chain of islands in the Atlantic. Ernst, Morton, and Glass had placed her there so that she could play with the weather as often as she liked without disturbing a soul.

The Dyeus King called his old lover to his side, but dismissed her an instant later. He could not bear to see her face, which held the same beauty, and the same disapproval.

The Zacare Operation

The Sky Witch appeared in her preferred form, that of a black and billowing stormcloud chuckling with thunder. The olprt radiance didn’t make her look a bit different from her regular appearance. A black silhouette of a stormcloud was just as black as a stormcloud.

“Ah, Dr. Ernst! It’s been a while since you’ve called me.” the Sky Witch said. “What is that over there? A camel? Oh, may I have it? I want to take it back to my island!”

“No, sorry Mattie.” Matthew said. “That’s the manes we’re trying to help today.”

“Another animal ghost? Interesting! You don’t see many of those! Oh, are you sure I can’t have it, Dr. Ernst? It looks so fluffy, and its big head is so cute! It would look so keen running on my beaches! What’s that thing on its back, by the way?”

“I’m sure you can’t have the camel, Mattie.” Matthew said. “Mattie, we need you to pay attention. We called you here to fill a hole with water. We’re doing an experiment that will hopefully teach us something about the manes. The manes wants to drink water, but won’t drink from the creek. We’re going to find out why.”

“Uh? Another watering hole? It seems you always want rain from me. Rain, rain, rain. This is the American southwest, isn’t it? Can’t you find some natives to do a rain dance for you?”

“Just fill the hole, Mattie, and then you can go back to your island.”

“Good! It’s so dry out here, and quiet. Not like my island at all.” The Sky Witch looked at Mr. Reeves. “Oh! Look at you! A black man! I’ve never seen a black man before!”

“And I’ve never seen a Sky Witch before.” Mr. Reeves said.

“Focus, Mattie.” Matthew said. “We need you to fill a hole with water.”

“Well, where’s the hole?” the Sky Witch asked. “I can’t fill what I can’t see!”

“Martin?” Matthew asked.

“One moment.” Martin replied.

Suddenly, there was a puff of dust, far off to the side of the Red Ghost. When it cleared, the group could see the small fissure in the earth Martins’ dogs had made.

The camel rolled its massive neck over to the crack in the earth. Its feet soon followed.

“…Find it…Find water…” the Red Ghost muttered to the wind. “Water…bring me to water…”

“Fill it, Mattie.” Matthew said.

Far above, the clouds began to swirl. White whirled into gray and then into black.

“Good lord, she’s stirring the entire sky1” Mr. Reeves exclaimed. “From horizon to horizon, like a big bowl of milk!”

“You don’t need to be so fancy.” Matthew said to the Sky Witch.

“No, I don’t, but it’s so much fun to be fancy! Especially when I have an audience! Are you impressed, black man?”

“I can’t rightfully say I’ve seen the sky do that before.” Mr. Reeves said. “So yes, I’m impressed.”

“Fill the hole, Mattie.” Matthew said. “We don’t have all day.”

The Sky Witch sighed, and her sigh was like the sound of a brief summer shower tickling the Earth.

“Fine, fine…”

The Sky Witch reached out with her power and tore a small fraction of a cloud off, like a child pulling apart a bit of cotton.

“First, you pinch off a piece of cloud.”

The cloud fell like a feather to the Earth and filled the crack in the ground like mist.

The camel looked at the mist, very confused, and snorted.

“Then all you have to do is make it cold, see? It’s very easy–for a Sky Witch!”

The mist congealed into water and filled the crack.”

The voice of the Red Ghost roared. “Water! Water! I can smell it! Bring me to water! Go!”

The camel darted over to the crack, and then, a black body arose from the white bones and flung itself towards the water.

The body was raw and burnt. It was hard to tell how old the man was. The damage to his flesh gave him the appearance of wrinkles, but he could have been a young man.

The body landed just shy of the water and crawled toward the liquid, fingers arched like claws, mouth agape.

He buried his blistered arms in the water and sank his face into it. Then, with a pained growl, he pulled himself away.

The water wasn’t disturbed. Not as much as a ripple crossed its surface.

“Bad water! Dirty water! Poison water!” the man screamed.

Not a drop fell from his face or arms. Nothing clung to his ectoplasm.

He drank nothing.

The man sobbed tears without moisture. “It’s never good water…never good…always thirsty…gonna die…gonna die soon…”

The man vanished. The camel turned away from the water and began to trod off in search of water.

The camel had been searching for a long, long time.

“I think I understand now.” Matthew said. “The poor man can’t slake his thirst. His thirst is a deep, deep memory. Touching water does nothing to remedy it, so he thinks whatever he touches is bad water, and goes off in search of more.”

“He’s been doing this for so long…poor man’s an American Tantalus.” Martin said. “He’s surrounded by water, but he can’t drink a drop!”

“Would it help if I made it rain?” the Sky Witch asked. There was concern in her voice, and the Sky Witch was rarely concerned about anything.

“No.” Matthew answered.

“But Dr. Ernst, the poor man’s dying of thirst! He’s dying of thirst forever! I can wring all the moisture out of the sky just like one would a towel! I can cause such a downpour that he’d never need to drink another drop of water again!”

“No, Mattie, that won’t work.” Matthew said. “You could flood all of Arizona, it wouldn’t help a thing. The problem isn’t the water, it’s him.”

The Sky Witch sighed, and her sigh was like a muffled thunderclap. “Then why did you call me here if all I can do is watch that poor man suffer?”

“I have an idea, Mattie.” Matthew turned to his fellow manesologists. “I think we can affix the Red Ghost in such a way so that he’ll be content and comfortable. First, we weaken his ba spiritual component, his memories, not enough so that he forgets who he is, but enough so that he can forget that he’s perpetually thirsty. A fleeting thirst can be slaked.”

“Oh!” the Sky Witch exclaimed. “Then I can make it rain, right?”

“Yes. We’re going to bury him in a body of water. We can’t use the creek though, people use it, so we’ll make a little pond for him. The sensation of water finally slaking his thirst, and being surrounded by that water, should give him a profound and embryonic feeling of calm. And when he realizes that, when he realizes he’s submerged but not drowning, he will realize that he is a manes. His nightmare will be broken. He will know that he is dead, he will feel that he is at peace, and what more could we do for a manes, gentlemen?”

“Good.” Joseph said. “I like this plan, Matthew. If this goes like you say, then this will be one of our good cases, even with the earlier homicide.”

“So we’re going to repeat what we did before, Mattie.” Martin said. “I dig a pit, and you fill that pit with water.”

“I’m not quite sure I understand what’s going on here, but if you say it’s for the best, then I’ll believe it’s for the best.” the Sky Witch replied.

“Hold on.” Mr. Reeves said. “I think it’s a good plan, Dr. Ernst, but there’s a hitch. I think we might be dealing with two ghosts, not one.”

“Two ghosts? Joseph asked.

“Yes. The camel and the man. I think they’re together.”

“That would make this one hell of an exceptional case.” Joseph said. “Animal ghosts are rare, and so are combined ghosts. If you’re right, the Red Ghost is a rarity of a rarity.”

“Well, this is the country for such things.” Mr. Reeves said.

Joseph shrugged. “Right. I can’t argue with that. The country that made Bass Reeves would be the country to make the first human-animal ghost pair.”

“What makes you think there are two manes, Mr. Reeves?” Matthew asked.

“It’s mostly a hunch, though my hunches tend to be good. The poor man is insane. He wants water, but he can never get water. That’s Tantalus, from Greek mythology, like Dr. Glass said. He’s in such a bad state people would call it divine punishment, and he attacked not only a bear but a woman for their water. I can’t see a man that desperate and crazed relenting from attacking someone that might have fought on his side. I’ve known enough men like that to know they aren’t that considerate.”

“But what about the Confederate with the belt buckle?” Joseph asked.

“I don’t think he was spared because the deceased man had Confederate sensibilities. I think he was spared because the camel had Confederate sensibilities. That camel is clearly dog-loyal to his rider. It took on a grizzly without knowing that it itself was a ghost and invulnerable. That takes loyalty. But such a loyalty would also logically apply to all its previous owners, who were presumably Confederates. I can see the camel stopping short of killing the Confederate once it saw the belt buckle. What I think happened was this: one of the camels the Confederates released from Camp Verde found its way to Eagle Creek and it remembered the nice men with shiny CSA belt buckles and gray shirts that opened its cage. It thrived out here, as camels do in this environment, until it came across a frontiersman, maybe a trapper, or a prospector. This man was probably wounded, maybe even dying. Maybe he ran into bad men, it happens out here, or maybe he just had a bad accident without anyone around to help him, that happens out here too, but regardless, he’s hurt, he’s bleeding, and then he sees this strange animal trot up to him. Maybe he himself was a Confederate, or maybe the camel was just a very helpful and friendly animal, but it gets close enough that our man can get a rope around it. Our man figures that this strange animal before him might not be a horse, but it’s still an animal, and all animals drink.”

“Oh, the poor man.” Martin said.

“You’re getting the idea, Dr. Glass. Our man figures that if he lashes himself to this animal it’ll eventually head to water. It was just his awful luck that a camel can go up to fifteen days without a drink. But how would he know? But that’s how I think he and his animal are both ghosts.”