GunBarrel Gauntlet: The Last Bronze II

16. Scarecrows.

With Socky's knowledge of the featureless plains of the badlands, Audrey led the Corolla and Enforcer north-west for many miles until the colours of the barrens dampened with the sinking heat of the sun, eclipsed magenta by the horizon as it burnt away into the blue gauze of twilight.

Standing starkly against the luminous rays of this western rose, scarecrows assembled from the remains of dry bones and dead machinery leant into the wind of night, those that had been given vestment fringes stirred in the air currents to emphasize their stoic loneliness.

"Easy now, they'll be watchin' us, hopin' we be strays from Dogtown they can trap in the dark." Leaning over Carrion's shoulder, Socky focused on the sentinel scarecrows that marked the limits of the Scabeater's territory. "Best you pull over here, I'll try signal them."

Carrion eased her foot off the pedal and let the weight of the truck settle, squinting out of the torn windshield in trepidation at what may lie ahead. The engines sputtered as the power was cut, accentuating the rasping tongue of the wind rising over the plains.

Socky climbed down from the truck cabin, wandering out toward the field of eerie sculptures, paused in thought as he chose a path to take amongst them. Each step diminished his profile as it bled into the shadows. Then he was gone, absorbed by the night from the perspective of those whom watched from the safety of the vehicles.

* * *

"How long has it been?" Weary broke the long silence that had settled within the cabin.

Inhaling sharply as the sound woke her from a light nap, Carrion leant forward from her seat and scanned the impenetrable gloom.

"The moon was nearer the ground when he left." Liu held her hand out with straightened fingers to measure its current altitude. "Two hands and a half... almost three. He should'a been back by now."

"I'll go look for him." Weary collected a handful of arrows and a compound bow beside his door before he opened it slowly to minimize any noise.

"Take someone with you, so they can shout out if you're ambushed." Carrion advised as he was exiting the vehicle.

Minutes later, the Irishman had joined Weary on his starlight patrol, treading softly under the frames of the macabre junk statues as the passed them by.

"Wha't was that?"

Both men froze, turning their ears like a sweeping radar.

"I don't hear nuthin, what did it sound like?" Weary asked

"Sumthin' movin', like sand on metal."

They waited for a minute longer, listening to the night breeze. With no further hint as to what it could have been, they continued further into the avenue of scarecrows.

As the moon climbed, the raised surface and edges of the statues became distinguishable from the shadows, giving each one a distinct personality by nature of the unique materials used in their assembly. Irish paused to examine one of the grim totems; multiple canine skulls wired together into a great head, topped with a slouch hat that was cocked to the side as though it were a gunfighter from some western movie. Hubcaps glinted in the lunar glow, a scaled cuirass underneath the lapel of animal hides that served as a duster coat.

Taking a step closer to remove the hat, the ground under his foot rung with a hollow thud. As the sound of the trap reached his brain it was too late to recover, the buried length of corrugated iron under the surface tipped dramatically at one end to drop him into the disguised pit.