Chandler didn’t like the mummy. It spoke of the unnatural. The desert could dry a man out like that, but not in a few days.
Something had waited up ahead and took all the water from its victim. He could be walking close to his next life at the moment. He decided to press ahead. He had nothing to gain by going back and reporting failure.
If he could save one of the men and open the waterway, that would satisfy any self imposed rules he lived under. Then he could move on to the next thing with a clear conscience.
He debated what he should do about the block in the waterway. He decided that he didn’t know what would happen if he cut the whole dam away, but he could put holes in it to let the water pass.
Chandler stabbed the blockage in several places. Water poured out of the holes and dropped into the dry riverbed. The ground would soak any of the small streams up before it got big enough to get to Last Stop.
He worked his way around the natural obstruction, noting the way things were
stacked up. It just confirmed his first thoughts that someone had put the dam there to seize the water.
Where had the water been diverted? Once he knew that, he knew where to go to fix the problem.
Chandler found a big hole yards beyond the dam he had punctured. It descended straight down into the ground. Water from the river poured over the edge and vanished into the darkness.
A vertical shaft looked bad for exploring. He looked down. Light played on the water at the bottom of the new cavern. Did the posse go down there?
Chandler examined the walls of the shaft. He noted pieces had been ripped out of the stone. He could use that for handholds if he was careful.
He didn’t see any rope to show that the posse had done the same thing. He wondered if something was at the bottom of the giant well. He also wondered how it liked snoopers.
He supposed he should look around down at the bottom of the pit. He decided it would be better to knock the dam out of the way. Maybe the water flowing away would draw out the culprit.
Why go down in the other’s dark domain when you could face it in the sunlight?
Chandler went back to the dam. The holes he had poked produced streams of water like natural fountains. He picked one and drew an x through it with his sword. He stepped back as the water came through the sudden weakness and pulled part of the wall down. The liquid cascaded away to the gasping towns along the river.
He watched the water crowd up on the banks. Anyone caught downstream would be in for a surprise. He couldn’t help that. He had to decide how long he would wait before he went into the ground after whatever had diverted the water.
Some of the flow still moved toward the hole. Could he cut that off? Would that speed things up?
What would happen if he cut around the edge of the hole and pushed that rim down inside the well?
The water could form a lake over any type of plug he might be able to construct like that. It would be better if he had something to just drop down on top of the gap.
He looked around. He saw rocks in the distance. He knew there was no way he could move the bigger ones he needed by himself.
He was strong, but he wasn’t that strong.
He decided that he should try to cut the rim back and drop whatever he could into the water. Whatever was down there would dig up through his obstruction to get the water flowing again. Maybe he would be able to deal with it then.
If it was too big for him, he would be on to his next life unless it could stop the
endless jumping through time. He expected that his gift was too much for the ordinary sort of monster he ran into on his travels.
Memories of other lives indicated he had dealt with this sort of thing more than once. He had allies to help him if he could find them. Should he retreat and come back with someone who could drag the thing out of its hole?
How many would die if he did leave the thing out in the desert?
Chandler took his white sword and dug it into the ground at an angle. He walked around the rim of the opening until he ended up where he started. The circlet didn’t move. He cut a wedge out of it and let that drop away. The rest slowly fell after it.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
It wasn’t enough. He needed a lot more of the shaft to collapse if he wanted to stop the water from reaching the bottom.
He lowered himself on his belly to reach to the edge of the shelf he had created. The surface was too smooth for handholds now. He dug his sword in again and worked his way around the edge of the hole. It was a long process but he had nothing but time.
Eventually he was able to cut what he could reach away. He watched it drop down inside the hole. He didn’t think it was enough.
Something moved at the bottom of the well. He got to a knee as he watched the water. He doubted it was one of the posse members getting ready to tell him to stop dropping rocks into the hole.
He wondered how big it was. He doubted his old Remington would do anything against anything bigger than a cat.
He put aside any second guessing as he moved back from the hole. He had been appointed the champion of humanity. He had a lot of responsibility. If he lost, someone else would have to take up the fight.
The ground trembled slightly. He stepped back a few more yards. He guessed
his adversary was gigantic.
Boneless limbs emerged from the hole. They gripped the ground with mouths built into claws. A white body rose next. It reminded Chandler of a worm. It didn’t have eyes as far as he could tell.
He supposed it must track its enemies through sound, or touch. He remained still and the thing did not approach him.
It dragged its bulk toward the water. Tentacles reached around and began placing rocks in the water to direct the flow back to the hole in the ground.
Chandler didn’t like the odds if he went after the thing. He was fast, but he didn’t think he was as fast as the giant tentacles reaching around and placing boulders like they were bricks.
He needed something like dynamite if he wanted to do anything to that thing.
He could ride to the mining camp and ride back to the hole if they had dynamite he could use. Did he have time? Would the camp still be there? He doubted he had secured enough of a water supply to keep anyone hanging on.
Last Stop and the towns around it would probably be dead unless he could keep the water running for more than the two hours since he had destroyed the dam.
The gallons that had already flowed wouldn’t do much in his opinion.
He frowned as he considered his options. None of them looked good. He should wait until the thing went back into the ground, break this dam, and ride back down river to get the supplies he needed.
The digger turned toward where he had left his horse. The animal must have
done something. The thing started to rear up.
Chandler grimaced. He had no choice now. If he wanted to make it out of the desert, he needed his horse. He couldn’t let this thing eat it.
The King picked a spot he thought he could hit with his sword. He leaped the distance instead of running. He felt that running would attract the creature’s attention sooner than he wanted. He stabbed the monster high in its body and dragged the sword down until he touched the ground.
Chandler stepped out of the way of the bile and parts of things that came out of the cut he had made. The stink was something he would take with him until the end of his series of lives.
The beast turned at the sudden attack. Its tentacles whipped around. He didn’t move.
A sound escaped it. Blood poured from his ears. The horses neighed and turned to flee. The beast turned toward them. The movement it detected must have been what hurt it.
The water hoarder exploded from the pit, rushing after the running animals. Once it had wrapped its tentacles around the annoying things, it could heal in the water and restore itself.
Chandler stuck out his sword as it passed. He braced himself against the ground, but was pushed back by the mass he was slicing through. His victim curled up in pain from the sudden injury.
He swiped his sword in the air to shake off the internal liquids of the beast. He
saw that it was trying to reach the pit. He supposed it was too weak to dig another hole.
He decided to step back and let it go. He didn’t have the resources to deal with it. If he was a little stronger, he might be more pressed to continue the fight until the thing was dead. Wounding it to buy time had to be enough for the moment.
He watched the creature drag itself to its hole and drop down inside. He hoped it would die down there, but he wasn’t going down after it if he didn’t have a need.
If the posse ran into that thing, he doubted they had survived. There was nothing he could do about that.
Chandler sliced through the rock making up the dam and slid what he could out of the way. He watched the water push on the barrier for a moment before slicing the biggest rocks into smaller ones to make the passage easier.
He put the sword away as he walked downstream. He hoped his horse hadn’t been in the river bed when he renewed the flood. He needed to ride back to Last Stop, or the mining camp, and come back with something he could use to close that hole.
He hoped he was wrong about the posse. Maybe they had kept riding to find someone who could blast the dam open for them. He doubted they had magical swords that could slice through anything.
He was going to go back and inform the town he didn’t see them. That was the very least he could do for them.
If they showed up later, that was fine in his opinion. A celebration would probably be thrown. He doubted he should wait for that to happen.
The thing in the pit might be able to grow back the things he had cut through. He would like to return with dynamite before it healed enough to make another dam. Then he would have to feed it the explosive.
He had days to think of a way to do that. Maybe he could trick it into thinking it was something alive and good to eat.
He found the horses after a few minutes of walking. They seemed fine after their panic attack. They shied away from him when he approached. He realized that he had some of the beast on his hands and shirt. He needed to wash up before his horse would carry him back to civilization.
He put his pistol and boots on the river bank and jumped into the river. He let the cold water wash over him for a few minutes. He climbed out and lay down. He could take a nap before he started south.
He had done a bit of work for no pay.