Pinkerton’s car sat on a siding behind the train station. From the outside it looked like a normal Pullman car painted black and silver, and drawing closer in the gathering dusk it was clear the car was brand new. The metal shone and the sunlight glinted off the rounded corners of polished steel. Hollister bounded up the steps at the rear of the car and knocked on the door. A muffled command to enter came from inside.
Hollister entered first, followed by Chee, and both of them stopped for a moment to grasp what their eyes were seeing, for as normal as the train car appeared from the outside, inside it was anything but.
Pinkerton sat at a writing table placed beneath a window at the center of the car. And it was the windows that first drew Hollister’s attention. Strange shapes were painted in white all around each window and the far door at the other end of the car. The ceiling had three different trap doors built into it and the paintings circled them as well. A strange aroma filled the car and Hollister thought it was familiar but he couldn’t place it.
“ Madre de Dios,” Chee muttered, barely getting the words out.
Pinkerton finished his writing and looked up.
“Ah, Major, so glad you’re here. You must be Sergeant Chee?” Pinkerton stood and strode confidently up to the young man. Chee nearly backed up a step and stared at Hollister in amazement as the detective pumped his hand. Hollister shrugged.
“Welcome, Sergeant. Major Hollister has told me all about you,” Pinkerton said.
“He has?” Chee answered quietly.
“Yes. Did he tell you he requested you specifically?” Pinkerton asked.
“No, sir. Me and the major haven’t had much time to talk yet,” Chee said.
“Well, I’m certain he’ll give you all the details shortly. But I’m glad you’re…” Dog, who moved around from behind Chee and advanced toward Pinkerton, his nose working the air, interrupted him. Pinkerton jumped, for he had not noticed the stealthy animal in the low light of the car.
“Jesus Christ! What is that!” he shouted. His hand instinctively went inside his coat toward his shoulder holster.
“I wouldn’t do that, sir,” Chee said. “This is Dog. He doesn’t it like it when people he doesn’t know hold guns.”
“That is not a dog… that is… good God I have no idea
…” He slowly removed his hand from his coat and Dog sat on his haunches, studying Pinkerton.
“Dog,” Chee said, pointing to Pinkerton, “friend. Good boy.” Dog completely relaxed, reached forward and licked Pinkerton’s hand. Then lay down on the floor.
Pinkerton glared at Hollister. “Did you know about this?”
“Nope,” Hollister answered.
“I didn’t make any agreement for a goddamn… half wolf… half… lion…” Pinkerton stammered.
“I think they’re a package deal,” Hollister said. “And I’m not going to tell him he’s not welcome. Are you?”
Pinkerton sighed and his shoulders slumped. He turned with his back to the men and gestured around the interior of the car. He muttered something neither man could hear but had apparently given up on the subject of Dog.
“This will be your home for at least the next few weeks. It’s a specially made Pullman car, built to my exact specifications. We’ve consulted with an expert in these matters-in fact, he will be here to brief you shortly. But in the meantime I suggest you take some time to get acquainted with the car. I have had provisions and extra clothing delivered this afternoon. This car, a kitchen car, another for your horses, and a locomotive will be at your disposal for as long as you need it.
“Mr. Pinkerton, what is that smell?” Hollister asked.
“Garlic,” Pinkerton answered, pointing to small cloth bags hanging in the upper corners of each window.
“To what purpose?” Hollister asked.
“It has proven very effective in keeping out certain types of unwanted guests,” Pinkerton remarked. He looked at Chee. “Tell me, Sergeant, what have you heard about your new CO?”
“Heard, sir?” Chee replied.
“Yes. You’ve been in Leavenworth for a year and a half. You must have heard about Major Hollister.”
Hollister looked at Chee and saw the wariness creep into his eyes.
“I didn’t… I don’t… just rumors mostly, sir,” Chee stammered.
“And what rumors did you hear?” Pinkerton pressed on.
Chee looked at Hollister in desperation and Hollister nodded, telling the sergeant it was okay to speak his mind.
“He fought against Deathwalkers, sir, only no one believed him and he was sent to prison instead.” Chee had removed his hat when he entered the car and he worked it back and forth nervously in his hands.
“Deathwalkers? I’m not familiar with the term,” Pinkerton said, not taking his eyes off Chee.
“My people call them Deathwalkers, sir. They are blood devils: monsters that come awake at night and drink the blood of human beings.”
Hollister shifted uncomfortably. He realized, perhaps for the first time, how ridiculous his story had sounded. No wonder his colonel had not believed him. He understood why no one came to his defense. It sounded unbelievable to him, and he had lived it.
“And what do you think of his claim?” Pinkerton asked.
Chee shrugged. “I don’t know the major well sir, but I have no reason to doubt him. If he says it happened that way, then it did.”
“Really? And what about you, Chee? Tell me, do you believe in these so-called Deathwalkers?” Pinkerton held Chee’s stare until the sergeant looked down at the floor.
“Yes, sir. I do,” Chee replied quietly.
“Really? Have you ever seen one?”
“No, sir! And I hope I don’t. Bad juju. But Deathwalkers are real, all right.”
“Is that so? How do you know?” Pinkerton asked.
“My grandmother, Annabel. My people are from New Orleans, sir. My grandmother has told me stories about Deathwalkers,” he said.
“I see.” Pinkerton nodded. “Hmm. Well, you may hope you’re wrong. Did Major Hollister brief you on your mission?”
“No, sir, we… had dinner… then came here… I haven’t
… he hasn’t… no, sir.” Something was very wrong here. This Pinkerton fellow was very odd, and Major Hollister hadn’t said two words in his presence. Chee tugged nervously at his collar.
“Well as it turns out, his story may be true. There has been another incident in Colorado. You and the major will go there and investigate. How does that sound to you?”
Chee just shrugged and said nothing.
“No thoughts, Sergeant? You have no problem going after these Deathwalkers?” Pinkerton pressed.
“No. No, I don’t, sir,” Chee replied.
“And why is that? If Major Hollister has been telling the truth all these years, this could be a very dangerous assignment.”
“I expect so, sir. But it beats being in prison,” Chee said.
“Yes, Sergeant. From what I know of Leavenworth, I’m sure it does.”
Pinkerton chuckled as he walked behind the writing table and sat down.
Hollister took the opportunity to study the interior of the car. The writing desk was to his right and behind it another doorway led to the rear, where Hollister assumed he would find sleeping quarters. On his left between two of the windows a large wooden rack held several rifles and shotguns. There were numerous Winchesters, two Henrys, and a pair of short-barreled Greener ten gauges. Shelves below the gun rack held boxes of ammunition.
“Make yourselves at home, gentlemen,” Pinkerton said. “As I said, this car has been specially outfitted and…” He was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Ah, it must be our guest. Come in!”
A short, dark-haired man, wearing glasses and carrying a small valise, entered the train car. The better light inside revealed that his hair and the goatee framing his mouth were speckled with gray.
“Major Hollister and Sergeant Chee, it is my pleasure to introduce Dr. Abraham Van Helsing.”