Worms!Fiction & AFiction & AFiction & AFiction & AFiction & Advdvdvdvdventurenturenturenturenture be be be be by:y:y:y:y: John Goff

Editing & LaEditing & LaEditing & LaEditing & LaEditing & Layyyyyout:out:out:out:out: Barry Doyle, Shane Hensley& Hal Mangold

CoCoCoCoCovvvvver Art:er Art:er Art:er Art:er Art: Kevin Sharpe with Matthew TiceLogo:Logo:Logo:Logo:Logo: Ron Spencer

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Chapter OneWhen he felt the rumbling underfoot, Jonas first thought some

fool was trying his hand at mining again. Used to be there wasso much dynamiting going on in the area that the ground shookconstantly, but the shaking today was something altogetherdeadlier. Jonas knew this was true when something thick andsinuous snaked up the farmer’s left leg and began to squeeze.One look at the snake-like thing sent his mind careening overthe edge of panic. His only thoughts became those of escape.

He lurched forward, but the creature’s grip was too strong tobreak. Stumbling, he fell face first onto the hard desert soil. Hefelt another one of those things wrap itself around his waist. Hewas fighting to draw a breath as the restraints drew tighter.

Jonas managed to push himself to his hands and knees andtried to crawl. A third creature seized him by the neck. Together,the things began to pull him backward. Jonas fought to resist thedrag with all four limbs. The rocky ground tore at his clothingand skin. Blood began to ooze from his hands and he felt atleast one of his fingernails snap off as he clawed at the dirt.

The thing around his neck had tightened, cutting off nearly allhis air. His struggles weakened as he felt himself losingconsciousness. Then he caught sight of his hoe off to his right.If he could just catch hold of it, he could beat these things back.He stretched his right arm toward the handle, but it was out ofreach. The old farmer knew the hoe was his last hope, so hetook a gamble and lunged forward.

He lost.

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The grip on his leg tightened as he moved, pulling him offbalance. He collapsed once again to the ground. The strengthebbed from his limbs. As he was dragged backward, Jonas barelyfelt the hard, rocky soil he’d tilled for years scrape against hisface.

As his consciousness faded, he had the strangest sensationof being pulled down.

Into darkness.

Chapter TwoIt was like swimming upstream in a flood, but from

somewhere he found the strength to keep fighting. He couldalmost feel the surface, it was so near. If he could shake off theother’s grasp, even for only a moment, he knew he could breakfree and escape. Reaching deep inside himself, he tapped intoreserves he doubted he’d touched in years and made one moredetermined push. This time it was all or nothing.

Suddenly, the resistance broke. The freedom was so profoundit felt as though he floated up the last bit, separating him fromthe outside. Slowly, his surroundings came into focus and Ronanrealized he was once again in control of his own body.

Immediately he felt the blasting heat of a desert sun atmidday. Squinting against a bright glare, he found himselfswaying groggily in a saddle atop a horse he didn’t recognize. Hewas riding through rocky desert hills, but he had no idea exactlywhich one. There were a lot of deserts in the West—all he knewwas that he was in one of them.

His mount was heading for a range of mountains, but Ronandidn’t recognize any landmarks. He had no luck looking behindeither; a featureless plain of blistering dirt and rock stretched offas far into the distance as he could see. Even the sun was nohelp. Until later in the day, he wouldn’t even know what directionhe was riding.

Ronan finally accepted the fact he was lost, and began to takestock of himself. There was a large, dried bloodstain on hisshirt. Ronan found no wound on his own body, but that didn’tmean the blood wasn’t his. His undead body healed far fasterthan a normal man’s, so it was possible he had been woundedand already recovered. However, he found no hole or tears in hisshirt, so he suspected the blood belonged to someone else.

A quick check showed his pistol was loaded, but his cartridgebelt was nearly empty. He doubted the other had used therounds for plinking whiskey bottles. The missing bullets, thebloodstain, and the unfamiliar horse seemed to indicate troublewas somewhere out there in the desert behind him. Sure, it wastrouble the other thing had started—but that thing wore his face,so it was his trouble now.

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As always he had little recollection of what had happenedwhile the other had been in control. Only fragments of memoryremained, and those were filled with the sound of screams andthe smell of gunpowder. Whatever had happened, Ronan wassure it had been bad. He also knew he’d best keep riding thedirection he was headed. His unwanted alter-ego had a strongsense of self-preservation—it wanted to keep his body alive asmuch as he did.

But, as they say, the Devil is in the details. While the creatureinside him cared about Ronan’s continued existence, it caredlittle for those around him. For example, his “borrowed” horse.The animal had been ridden hard without rest—days from thelooks of it. He could tell it would be lucky to make it anothermile before dropping out from under him.

As he dismounted, he considered that the other might havelet him regain control. After all, it looked like a long walk to thenext town, and he suspected the creature enjoyed the thought ofhim stumbling across the rocky hills for days. Digging throughthe saddlebags on the dying horse, he found another shirt. It wasdirty, but at least it wasn’t caked in blood. Unfortunately, therewas nothing else of value.

Well, Ronan thought as he drew his pistol, I might as well eatfirst. Moments later, a single shot echoed across the low hills.

Chapter ThreeIt was a good three days later when Ronan walked into the

town. Calling it a town was a compliment—there weren’t morethan a dozen buildings and most of those looked to be privatehomes. A sign on the outskirts proudly proclaimed “Welcome toHilton Springs” in peeling letters. Unfortunately, there was noindication of the state. For all Ronan knew, he could be in Texas,California, or Utah.

His feet were sore and his throat dry, but the town had theone building he’d been hoping to find—a saloon. Named simply“Daly’s,” the saloon was one of the few in the small communitythat braved the heights above a single story. And, like everyother structure in Hilton Springs, it was only a short distancefrom the edge of the town. At least he wouldn’t have to spendtoo long on the street; a stranger walking into this isolatedhamlet from the desert was bound to raise some eyebrows.

Entering the saloon, Ronan fixed his eyes on the bar and triedto ignore the other customers hiding from the heat of the day.He crossed the open floor and pulled up a stool.

“Whiskey,” he said and dug into his pockets for the littlemoney he had left.

Whatever else happened, the other had spent most of hismoney. Ronan had found he was down to less than five dollars.

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He barely had enough money left to buy a box of bullets. Still,there were times when whiskey wasn’t a luxury, but a necessity.And, after dragging his roasted flesh out of the desert, Ronanknew it was just about that time.

“What state is this?” Ronan asked as the barkeep poured hisdrink.

“Mister, you’re in Nevada.” The question didn’t seem to fazehim, but Ronan wasn’t surprised. The lines on a map aren’tnearly as clear out in the middle of the Western deserts. He’dprobably heard the same question from nearly every traveler topass through.

Nevada, Ronan thought. His last memories placed himsomewhere in California. He’d been riding for days at least.Figuring his demon had raised a little Hell before having to lightout for cooler waters, Ronan guessed that at least a few weekshad passed since he was last in control of his flesh—and mind.

“Bartender, let’s have the whole bottle for my friend and me,” avoice said from behind him, snapping him back to the present.Ronan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the familiarTexas drawl. He cursed himself for ignoring the other customersin the saloon. That voice could only belong to one man—HankKetchum.

Ronan fought back the instinctive urge to grab the butt of hisPeacemaker. Ketchum was behind him and likely to put a bulletthrough the back of his head if he so much as tickled his six-gun. Ronan had no doubt he could take the Texas Ranger in astand-up fight—probably no living man could match hisunearthly speed. He also had no doubt the man would never givehim the opportunity. Ketchum told him long ago if the time evercame, Ronan would never even hear the shot that ended hisunnatural life.

The last time they’d met, they parted neutral if not exactlyfriendly. Since the Ranger hadn’t shot him out of hand, Ronanfigured the truce still stood. If Ketchum wanted to talk, so be it.As long as he was buying.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, Lynch,” Ketchum said as he pouredthe drinks. “Can’t say as how I expected to see your face aboutthese parts. And you guessed right—I ain’t looking for your hide.Yet.”

“You have no idea how much better I’ll sleep knowing that, oldman,” Ronan emphasized the last two words. “Besides, unlessyou’ve changed sides, I don’t think the folks hereabouts would betoo supportive of a Texas Ranger. Last time I checked, Nevadawas still loyal to the Union.”

Ketchum leaned forward and whispered, “You’re right and I’llmake you a deal. You don’t tell anyone my favorite song is Dixie,and I won’t tell anyone you’re playing hooky from the boneyard.Fair enough?”

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Ronan downed his drink and poured another, ignoring theRanger’s question—and now-empty shot glass.

“I see your hand’s lookin’ better.” Ketchum tapped his glass onthe wooden table.

“And I see your eye isn’t. Let’s cut the small talk, Ketchum. Ifyou aren’t looking for me, what brings you to this backwater?”

“Lynch, believe it or not, you ain’t the only fish in the sea. Infact, you ain’t even a particularly big one. I was up near theCanyon when I got word of folks going missin’ ‘round here. Ifigured I’d best get up here and have a look before those Agencytypes had time to cover it up.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Texas, but isn’t that exactly what youdo?”

“Yeah, but I’m good at it.” The Ranger gave up on Ronan’scourtesy and refilled his own glass. “Once those tinhorns get inhere, there’ll be no way to tell what was really going on. ‘Course,they’ll foul it all up, let word get out, and folks’ll be more scaredthan they were before, too.”

“As I recall, Ranger, the Epitaph is printed in Tombstone,Arizona, isn’t it? Anyway, I don’t really care one way or the other.Other than for the snappy table banter, why are you botheringme with any of this? I’ve got other things to attend to.”

Ronan pushed his chair back and prepared to leave. Last timehe’d thrown in with Ketchum, he’d ended up on a train with aload of blood-sucking ghouls. The time before that, the two menwound up fighting a scalpel-wielding maniac. Nothing good hadever come of talking to the one-eyed Ranger.

“Like finding a horse? If you look on a map, you’ll find thisspot about two miles from the place marked ‘Middle of Nowhere.’Now, you can walk out of here, but it’s a long, hot stroll to thenext town. ‘Course, there’s a stable here that’d be happy to sellyou a horse, but from the way you was countin’ your change upat the bar, I’m bettin’ even a hobby horse is out of your pricerange right now.”

The gunslinger said nothing, but the anger in his eyes wasunmistakable. Ketchum had hit the nail on the head, and Ronandidn’t like it.

“I’ve got a roll of nice crisp Yankee greenbacks here—morethan enough to buy a man a passable horse. I’d be willin’ to partwith a portion of them if you saw fit to lend a hand for a coupleof days.”

“And what exactly would I be lending a hand with?”“Help me figure out what’s goin’ on in these parts and put a

stop to it. You handled yourself well back in Kansas, and I’ve gota feelin’ I may need another set of eyes on this one—or at least afast six-gun. Job pays two hundred dollars. You interested?”

“All right, old man. That buys you three days of my time—nomore.”

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“Three days, huh? I reckon that’ll do. If we don’t get to thebottom of this by then, the Agency will send some tinhorn fromBoston out here anyway.”

Chapter Four“I’ve spoken to the town marshal. His name’s Parsons. From

what he told me, I figure this is as good a place as any to start,”Ketchum told Ronan as the two approached a white-washedbuilding at the end of town. From the small steeple above thedouble front doors, Ronan guessed the building was probablythe town’s church.

“This shanty-town has a marshal? Why doesn’t he handle hisproblems himself?”

“He’s a good enough feller, but Parsons is what you’d call apart-time marshal. Mostly, he tends the counter at the generalstore. He don’t know a whole lot about how to handle situationslike this.”

“What business have you got in the church, Texas? Don’t tellme you’re so desperate you’re turning to prayer.”

“You’re the funniest thing since God made the armadillo, youknow that, Lynch?”

Ketchum pushed open one of the doors and entered thechurch. Ronan moved to follow him, but hesitated when he felthis stomach tighten and twist.

“I’m sorry, I was so busy laughin’ at your joke I forgot tomention sometimes your kind has problems with hallowedground,” Ketchum stopped just inside the threshold. “Your littlefriend is probably a bit nervous about comin’ in here. I reckonit’ll squirm around a bit just to let you know it ain’t happy. Aslong as you’re in control, though, there’s nothin’ to really worryabout.”

Ronan could tell Ketchum had visibly tensed as he spoke, andthe Ranger’s long duster no longer covered the butt of his pistol.

“You are in control, ain’t you Lynch?”Gritting his teeth, the gunslinger stared at Ketchum and stared

a moment before replying, “Always.” Ronan stepped across thedoorstep and pushed down the momentary nausea and panic hefelt rise in his belly.

“That’s good, ‘cause there’s someone here we need to talk to.”The Ranger’s relaxed manner returned just as quickly as it hadvanished. Somehow, without Ronan even noticing, the dusterhad drifted back into place.

Ketchum walked down the aisle until he was nearly at thefront of the room. Ronan saw a small girl curled up on thebench, her legs pulled up tightly beneath her. She was clutchinga ragged and dirty doll to her chest. She looked absolutelyterrified. The gunslinger knew he and the one-eyed Ranger were

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an imposing pair, especially to a small child, but he hadn’trealized they were that frightening. When Ketchum spoke, hehalf-expected the girl to let out a scream.

“Cindy?” the grizzled lawman said in a surprisingly gentlevoice. “Marshal Parsons told us you had quite a scare. Me andmy partner here want to help. Can you tell us what happened?”

In a voice tight with fear, the little girl whispered, “Thewormses got my mommy and daddy. They climbed all over themand pulled them down in the ground. If you stay on the dirt toolong, the wormses will get you, too!”

She jumped off the pew and ran between the two men. Ahigh-pitched squeal peeled from her throat from the time herfeet touched the ground until she climbed onto a nearby bench.It was pretty obvious they’d get nothing else out of the little girl.

“Guess we’d best get that horse now—we’ve got some ridin’ todo. You’d better fill that cartridge belt while we’re at it. I’ve got afeelin’ you’ll need a few bullets before this is over.” The Rangerturned and walked out of the church. Following him, Ronanfought back a sigh of relief as he left the building.

Chapter FiveLater that afternoon the two men rode out toward a small

homestead a few miles from Hilton Springs. They’d stopped bythe general store after talking to the orphaned girl at the churchto get directions from Parsons. Ronan had also taken theopportunity to pick up a box of cartridges for his Peacemaker.He’d been surprised at the selection available in the store untilhe’d talked to Parsons, the marshal and primary businessman inthe town.

“At one time, Hilton Springs looked like it was going to be thenext Tombstone,” the storeowner explained. “Miners found silverin the hills near here and we were quite the booming communityfor a while. The mines panned out in less than a year, and,shortly after, so did most of the people. I was left with moregoods than I’ll probably ever sell. You ever get the urge to startmining yourself, head on back here and I’ll make you a deal onpicks, shovels, dynamite, and just about anything else you wouldever need.”

He’d found Parsons to be likeable—probably why he’d beenvoted into office in the first place. However, Ronan could seeKetchum was right about the man. Faced with anything beyond apeaceful drunk, he’d probably be in over his head. Not thatRonan doubted the man lacked sand; on the contrary, he seemedto have his share of it and then some. He’d defend his family andprobably the rest of the town readily enough, but he was nohardened killer. A run-in with a serious outlaw, or even an angrycowboy, would likely make Parsons’ wife a widow.

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The selection at the local stable wasn’t as wide, however, andRonan had settled for a cantankerous mare that seemed intenton fighting him every step of the way. Since digging his way outof the grave in Derry’s Ford, he’d not had much luck withanimals anyway, but this particular horse seemed to delight infrustrating him. The worst of it was the mare was the best ofthe lot available in Hilton Springs.

An hour’s ride brought the men to a small homestead southof town. Although not far from the tiny community, the barehills surrounding the house gave Ronan a profound sense ofisolation. Hilton Springs might only have been a few miles away,but it felt as though he and the Ranger were days fromcivilization of any sort.

The homestead was eerily still. The only sound to reach hisears was the occasional clatter as the door on a tiny barnbehind the house moved back and forth in the wind. Ketchumrubbed his chin for a moment, then dismounted.

“Lynch, you take the house and I’ll check outside. Yell out ifyou find anything.” The Ranger tied his horse’s reins off to thesaddle and drew his pistol.

“Expecting trouble, Texas?”“I’m not sure, but if trouble does show up, I’m gonna be sure

it’s properly introduced to my shootin’ iron.”Ronan took a moment to knock on the door before entering

the small house. He didn’t expect an answer, but all the same,he didn’t want to get a gut full of buckshot from a surprisedfarmer. When the house remained silent, he opened the door andwalked in.

Once he was inside, Ronan drew his Peacemaker. SeeingKetchum acting a little skittish made him nervous. He’d startedto think that man had ice in his veins, and if he was spooked,the gunslinger figured something big was up. But that didn’tmean he had to let on he was a bit anxious himself.

A quick search of the three-room building turned up nothingat all. It appeared its owner had simply walked out one day andnever returned. He felt the hair on the back of his neck raise—hehad come across a disappearance like this before. In fact, it hadbeen the last time he’d seen the Ranger. He didn’t recall seeingany sign of nearby tracks though, so he breathed a little easier.

Walking back out onto the tiny front porch, Ronan sawKetchum near the edge of a row of vegetables that werestruggling to survive in the parched heat. The Ranger looked upat him as he stepped off the porch.

“Come here and take a look at this.”“What is it? It looks like somebody was digging there. Is it a

grave?”“No, it’s too big. See this patch? It must be a good twenty feet

or more across. And take a look at these tracks here at the edge.

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Don’t it kind of remind you of a bunch of ropes being draggedacross the ground?”

“Now that you mention it, it does a little. But maybe notropes—remember what that little girl said. Something aboutworms dragging her parents into the ground.”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’.” Ketchum stood up andscanned the hills around them. It’ll be gettin’ dark soon. I don’tthink it would be a bad idea to be back in town when thathappens.”

Echoing from somewhere in the lonely hills surrounding them,the men heard the yipping howl of a coyote.

Chapter SixRonan and Ketchum had gone straight to see Parsons when

they got back to Hilton Springs. The part-time marshal had justsat down to dinner with his wife and the young girl, Cindy, whenthe men arrived at his doorstep. The Marshal wore a pained lookon his face as they drew him out to the front porch. Ronan andKetchum probably didn’t realize their crime—men who take theirmeals around a campfire seldom place much importance ontable manners.

“Marshal, we had a look around out at that farm,” Ketchumbegan. “I’m pretty sure you may have a bit of a problem on yourhands.”

“What sort of problem? Apaches? Utes?”“Well, I’m not ready to say until we’ve had a little more time to

look into it. When was the first disappearance?”“Let’s see. That would have been Wormy Simmons, about two,

two and a half weeks ago. Actually, Wormy probably doesn’tcount.”

“Why’s that?” Ronan asked.“I’ve got a pretty good idea what happened to him, and it

wasn’t anything particularly mysterious. Wormy was… well, heliked to pull a cork, if you know what I mean. He lost a goodfriend and went on a bender. While he was sauced, he made themistake of crossing Mahoney.”

“’Black River Mahoney?” Ketchum said.“You fellows heard of him, have you?”“Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Ronan said with a look like he’d just

bitten into an apple and found half a worm. “He used to packiron for Mina Devlin, if I remember right. Fast guns and a fastertemper. You figure Mahoney did Wormy in?

“Darn near sure of it, Mr. Lynch. He dragged the poor fool outof town behind his horse.”

“Don’t sound too mysterious to me, then. You mentioned thisWormy fellow lost a friend. What happened to this friend ofhis?”

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“That was Clark Webster. I don’t think there’s any connectionthere. Mr. Webster was a big-game hunter—something of a localcelebrity. He hunted some of the most unusual animals. Youshould see some of the trophies he had! Between us, Isometimes suspected he stretched the truth on some of hisstories. He claimed he even hunted monsters!”

“So what happened to Webster?” Ronan asked.“I couldn’t rightly say. He always took long trips. At first

nobody worried—sometimes he even left the country—but afterthe better part of a year it was pretty clear he was gone forgood. Anyway, he was pretty much the only person in town thatdidn’t make fun of Wormy, and it broke the old fellow’s heartwhen he finally gave up on him. Tied one on like you’d notbelieve—I still wonder where he got the money to buy the liquor.”

“This Webster feller, where’d he live?” Ketchum said.“Down near the creek. Say, you don’t think Mr. Webster’s death

is related to the disappearances do you?”“Probably not, but I wouldn’t mind havin’ a look at some of

them trophies. I like to fancy myself somethin’ of a hunter, too.Thank you for your time, Marshal.”

Ronan started to follow the Ranger, then turned and said,“Why did you call Simmons ‘Wormy’?”

“Oh, that. Well, he had a weakness for any liquor, but tequilawas his favorite. And to watch him, you’d think the best part ofit was that awful worm at the bottom. He’d often ask Daly overat the saloon if he could have the ones out of the bar bottles. Hegobbled those things down like candy.”

A momentary look of distaste crossed the gunslinger’s face.Then he turned and walked off into the darkness, followingafter Ketchum.

Parsons watched the men leave, wondering for a moment ifhe’d missed some important point in the conversation. Then heremembered his rapidly cooling dinner sitting on the table, andturned to get back to his family and a hopefully still luke-warmmeal.

* * *

Ronan and Ketchum had no problem finding Webster’s houseafter speaking to Parsons. The building seemed newer than mostin Hilton Springs, and, although it was simple in design, it wasobviously well-made. Whoever had built it was no poor dirtfarmer. They paused for a moment, but then, seeing no signs ofmovement inside, they mounted the steps to the small frontporch. Ronan motioned to the front door. It stood slightly ajar, asif beckoning them to enter.

“It doesn’t look forced,” Ronan said, examining the frame.“Probably that Wormy feller left it open when he staggered out

the last time. Saves me the trouble of breakin’ in.”

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The two men moved into the house. Ketchum found a lampon a table near the door and lit it. Everything seemed in order inthe first couple of rooms they entered, but in a sitting room nearthe back, they found the ruins of a decorative liquor cabinet. Asmall pile of bottles lay in front of it like a sacrificial offering tothe God of Alcohol.

“I think this pretty much answers how Wormy was able tocome up with the whiskey for his bender,” Ronan said, pickingup a bottle from the edge of the pile. “Damn shame, too—this issome good stuff. Whatever else, Webster had good taste. Notequila, though—I guess old Wormy’s luck just went from bad toworse.”

“This must be that trophy room Parson’s talked about.”Ketchum pointed to an archway leading from the sitting room.

Ronan walked slowly through the room. He could see Parsonshadn’t been exaggerating; it looked like Webster had baggednearly every animal imaginable—and some that most folkswouldn’t care to imagine. A large bear stood next to one wall,there was a tiger skin rug, an impressive array of horns andantlers, and a ring of snarling heads mounted on plaques ringingthe room. He was so distracted by the menagerie Ronan almostbumped into Ketchum, who was standing by a small shelf onone wall.

“Find something?”“Uh, no… ah Hell, it don’t make much sense to hide it from

you, you bein’ what you are. It looks like this feller was huntin’more than just run-of-the-mill critters. He’s got stuff here I’veonly heard about—bloodwire, a piece of a scarecrow, even a pieceof a Mojave rattler. Well, I don’t see the rattler part, but here’s therest. He’s even tagged ‘em and logged when and where he killed‘em.”

“You said something about a Mojave rattler—wasn’t that whatthat tinhorn Washington was heading to Salt Lake to hunt?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, he did say somethin’ to thateffect. Let’s take a look upstairs. It’s gettin’ late and I’d like totalk to those boys of Mahoney’s before their momma tucksthem in for the night. Besides, looking at all these whiskeybottles has made me thirsty.”

“Wait a second, Texas. I see something here.” Ronan bent overand pulled the object out from under a bookshelf. “Forget it, itjust looks like Wormy left one of his empty tequila bottles inhere. This one’s got the number ‘3’ on it, though. Mean anythingto you?”

“That was the number on the rattler piece. You say the bottle’sempty?”

“Yeah. What would this ‘rattler piece’ look like, anyway?”“I’m guessin’ it would be a couple inches long and shaped like

a fat man’s thumb.”

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“Kind of like a tequila worm.”“A feller’d have to be mighty short-sighted to mistake it for

one.”“Or drunk.” Ronan nodded toward the mound of empty bottles

in the next room.Ketchum looked at the liquor cabinet for a moment, then at

the empty bottle in Ronan’s hand. His one good eye widened ashe realized what the gunslinger was getting at. “You think hedrank whatever was in that bottle and ate the thing in thebottom?”

“It looks that way to me, Texas. What would happen if he did?”“I got no idea, Lynch.”

Chapter SevenIt looked like the entire bachelor population of Hilton Springs

was in Daly’s Saloon by the time Ronan and Ketchum arrived. Allfive or six of them. Nearly every table was empty in the place,but three young men had cornered one end of the bar forthemselves. Each of the three wore a pistol and a look that saidthey thought they were stone-cold killers.

Ketchum sat down heavily on a barstool to the left of the menand ordered himself a shot of whiskey. The nearest tough gavehim a cold stare, but Ketchum simply smiled at the man andhoisted his glass. The man glanced down at the old Ranger’sholster, and noting Ketchum had occupied his shooting handwith the whiskey glass, relaxed.

While the men were watching Ketchum’s exaggerated display,Ronan had taken the opportunity to move up behind the group.When he spoke in his gravelly voice, two of the men started andjerked around.

“I hear you boys ride with Black River Mahoney. I’m lookingfor him.”

“First of all, mister, we ain’t ‘boys’,” the young man in themiddle said, turning slightly to face Ronan, but remaining on hisstool. “Second, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Third, Idon’t care.”

“I’m not usually a patient man. Any other time, I’d just shootyou and ask one of your friends here. But it’s been a long day,I’m tired, and I’d rather not have to reload my pistol this late atnight. So I’m going to try once more to be polite. Where can Ifind Mahoney… boy?”

“You talk big, mister,” the young bravo said. He looked to hiscompanions on either side and even spared a glance at Ketchum.The one-eyed Ranger still seemed occupied with his whiskey.“But there’s three of us—nobody’s that good. I’m callin’ yourbluff.”

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As the gunman began to rise from his stool, Ronan grabbedthe center gunman’s wrist with his left hand as he tried to draw,trapping the man’s gun in his holster. Then he drew his ownpistol and twirled it. Using the butt of the weapon, Ronansmashed the hand of the man to the right against the bar. Thewounded man screamed and clutched his throbbing fingers tohis chest. The pain in his hand momentarily erased all thoughtsof the fight.

The third man reached for his pistol. Ketchum turned slightly,hooked the man’s stool with his foot, and jerked. The stool cameout from under the gunman. Unbalanced, he stumbled backwardand fell against the bar. The Ranger finished him with a hardkick to the head.

Ronan twirled his pistol again. When it stopped, the firstyoung man found the barrel of the Peacemaker under his chin.The sound of the hammer being cocked echoed like a cannonshot. Slowly, he released his grip on his own pistol and spreadhis hands wide. The undead gunslinger leaned in until he wasstaring eye-to-eye with his captive.

“Son, there’s still a chance I can walk out of this saloon withall six bullets still in my pistol. Where can I find Mahoney?”

“He’s out on Red Rock Ridge,” the gunman stammered. Ronanwas standing close enough for the gangman to catch a whiff ofdecay. To him, it smelled like Death himself was at his shoulder.“It’s about ten miles or so to the southwest, but I think he andthe rest might be gone.”

* * *

“Relax, boy, have a sip of busthead,” Ketchum said. They’dtaken the outlaw to a nearby table. Although he was pretty surethey weren’t going to put a bullet in him, he still had someserious concerns about the state of his health. Occasionally, hestole a glance over his shoulder at his two friends back at thebar. Both were sullenly nursing their injuries and glaring at thegroup at the table.

“We’re lookouts in town for Mahoney’s gang. If an easy markrides through, we tell the gang out on Red Rock. Most of thetime though, we just sit here and wait,” the boy said. He’d cometo the conclusion they were in over their heads with the twomen. He was afraid of Mahoney, but the outlaw leader was milesaway and the gunslinger with the dead eyes was just across thetable.

“Mahoney hasn’t been into town in over two weeks. The lasttime I seen him was when he dragged ol’ Wormy Simmons outof town for throwin’ up on his boots.” The boy took another hitof whiskey. “Last week, Randy—he used to watch the town withus—rode out to see if Mahoney was still on the ridge, but henever came back. I’m startin’ to think the gang lit out, myself.”

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“Son, your time’s up here. You and your friends got untilmorning to ride out of town. If you’re here when I wake up—andI wake up real early—you’ll be bedding down in a grave bylunch,” Ronan growled. The outlaw stood to go so quickly healmost knocked his chair over.

“And, boy,” Ketchum said. “I see your tracks headin’ towardRed Rock, you’ll be wishin’ you was lucky enough to die twodays before you ever set eyes on us.”

Chapter EightAs usual, Ronan got little sleep that night. Apparently, dead

men didn’t need as much sleep as live ones. All thingsconsidered, that was a good thing; what sleep he did get washaunted by horrible nightmares. Every morning he awoke withthe feeling he’d been fighting a battle for a piece of his soul.From the blank spots in his memories, he guessed he lost fromtime to time.

The three outlaws had taken Ronan’s threat seriously. Therewas no sign of the young men when he and Ketchum returnedto the saloon the next morning.

“Those boys lit out last night,” the bartender told them. “Youplan on buying anything while you’re here, or you two just wantto chase off the rest of my customers?”

After a greasy breakfast, he and Ketchum rode out of HiltonSprings to the southwest. Parsons had been able to give thembetter directions to Red Rock Ridge.

“So, Ranger, since we’ve got us a bit of a ride and I don’t thinkI’d fancy your singing voice, why don’t you tell me what youthink is going on?”

“Okay, Lynch, I can’t see the harm in that—especially seein’ ashow I’m countin’ on your guns if it comes to a fight. EverythingI’ve seen so far makes me think there’s a rattler crawlin’ aroundhere, and I don’t mean a snake.

“I’m talkin’ about those things they got out in the desertbetween here and the Maze. I hear tell there’s some outside SaltLake, but I can’t testify to that—Rangers ain’t exactly welcome upin Deseret.”

“I heard some stories in the saloons up there, but I never tookthem serious,” Ronan said. “You mean to tell me you believethese things exist?”

“Believe it? Hell, I seen one myself once. It was just a littlecuss, no more than 50 feet long, but I’ll tell you I’m not likely toforget that for a long time. It was shaped like a big worm, exceptthe eatin’ end had a mass of tentacles around the mouth. Ireckon that’s how they get a feller—crawl up under him and grabhim with those things.”

“So, how do you kill one?”

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“Shoot it—a lot. ‘Course, I don’t know how much good thatsix-gun you’re totin’ will do against one. Their hide alone mightstop a pistol bullet.”

The men rode on in silence. Since his first death, Ronansometimes thought he had lost his fear of dying. After all, shortof a lucky shot, it wasn’t too likely he could be killed. But thethought of being dragged underground and eaten alive was analtogether different matter. Not only was the thoughtunappealing in itself, but he doubted that even he could survivebeing turned into rattler droppings.

* * *

A few hours later, the men caught sight of Red Rock Ridge. Itwas easy to see how it got its name. The 50-foot high ridge ofreddish sandstone jutted like a finger out into the desert to thewest. Red Rock was probably the last high ground of any sizebetween Hilton Springs and California.

“You figure they’ve got a lookout posted out somewhere?”Ronan asked.

“Yep—if they’re still there. I figure if they’re on that rock, we’vealready been seen. Besides, all that open ground around theridge makes it damn near impossible to sneak up on. Whateverelse he is, Mahoney is canny. We’re better off just ridin’ straightin, nice and easy like. Since there’s only two of us, I’m hopin’they won’t start shootin’ outright.”

Ronan wasn’t too comfortable with Ketchum’s plan, but hecould see his companion’s point. Short of turning around andwaiting for nightfall, they wouldn’t be able to cross the bareground unseen. Besides, there was always the chance Mahoney’sgang had ridden out weeks ago.

They had ridden about halfway up the steep and narrow trailleading to the top of the ridge when a voice called out to themfrom the rocks above.

“Keep your hands on your reins, and keep moving up the trailif you don’t want to get shot.”

Ketchum looked back at Ronan as if to say “Told ya,” and didas he was told. Less than five minutes later they foundthemselves on a narrow trail between the rocks on top of theridge. The lookout, standing among the rocks above the trail,motioned them down the ridgeline to the west.

“We ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” the Ranger said. “We just want afew words with Mahoney.”

“Ride that way until you come to the camp. Don’t try nothin’funny, neither. There’ll be a rifle on you at all times.”

The camp lay on a wide spot near the western end of theridge. Except for the trail leading into it, the site was ringed byrocks and invisible to anyone in the desert below. On one side ofthe hideout, a corral held a dozen scrawny horses. The men in

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the camp didn’t look much better. The pistols and rifles theypointed at Ronan and Ketchum, on the other hand, appeared tobe in fine working order.

“Who’re you?” asked a man standing in the center of thecamp. He was tall, with hard eyes and a shaggy, droopingmustache. At his waist he held a Winchester rifle leveled atthem. From his looks and confident manner, Ronan guessed hewas Black River Mahoney.

“Name’s Hank Ketchum, of the Texas Rangers. My partner’sname is Ronan Lynch.” While he talked, the Ranger casuallydismounted as if he’d just ridden up to a hitching post in frontof a general store.

“Ketchum… I remember you, you old one-eyed wolf,” Mahoneysaid, never lowering his weapon. “You were with a Dixie Railscrew down near the Arkansas River trestle a couple years ago,weren’t you? Reckon I shoulda shot you then.”

“Mahoney, I got no fight with you. Today,” Ketchum said, tyingoff his horse’s reins to his saddle. “’Less, of course, you wantone. I was never one to pass up a good shindig, if theopportunity presented itself.”

“Big words for a one-eyed old man. I see you’ve taken tobringin’ help along—so much for ‘one riot, one Ranger’. And Idon’t believe that’s Lynch, neither. I heard of him—but I alsoheard DuChamp shot him dead up in Colorado.”

“I heal better than most,” Ronan said, still on his horse.“He’s not here to help,” Ketchum added. “He’s just along

because I enjoy his clever conversation. You and your boys arelookin’ a little ragged, Mahoney. You sure you want a fight? Itdon’t have to be that way. Not today, anyhow. I’m tryin’ to trackdown a feller name of Wormy Simmons. I heard you and himhad some hard words.”

“Simmons, huh? You’re a bit late, Ranger. I put that man in theground a couple weeks ago.”

“I figured that much,” Ketchum said. He pushed his hat back,hitched up his gun belt, and looked around the camp. “Looks-and smells like you boys been here a while. Them horses isgettin’ a bit thin too. Now, I wonder what would keep a bunch ofrattlesnakes like you up here on this rock for weeks.”

“It’s them crawlers,” a younger man called out from behindMahoney. The bandit leader glared at the man for a moment andthen turned back to Ketchum.

“He’s right. Folks north a’ here call ‘em rattlers,” Mahoney said.“I reckon there’s a nest of ‘em near here, but somethin’s gotthose crawlers all riled up. Anyone goes off the rocks getssucked down.”

“And,” Ketchum interjected, “that’s been goin’ on for about twoweeks or so, right? Just about the time you brought old Wormyout here?”

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“More like a week or so later, but you’re close. You sayin’ thatdrunk has somethin’ to do with the worms goin’ crazy?”

“It sure looks that way,” the Ranger answered. “Why don’t youshow me where you planted him.”

“I didn’t bury him, One-Eye. I fed him to one a’ them worms.Or, at least, I tried.”

* * *

Mahoney led the two men to where the ridgeline sloped intothe desert. From the rocks, he pointed to an area at the end ofRed Rock. There, Ronan could see four stakes with ropesattached to them. A short distance away, a large hole opened inthe desert floor.

“That’s where I put that stinkin’ fool.” Mahoney pointed at thestakes. “Somebody really gets my goat, I bring ‘em out here andfeed ‘em to the worms. We use the baiter to draw them whenit’s meal time. That’s it down there.”

On the ground below the rocks was an odd contraption. The‘baiter’ looked like a sewing machine wheel with a bunch ofrocks tied to it with long cords. A crank was attached to thewheel on one side.

“One of the boys turns the wheel when we’re ready. The rocksswing around and thump on the ground. I guess the worms canhear it somehow, ‘cause it brings ‘em runnin’.”

“So you stake a person out there on the flats and then callone of those rattlers here to eat them while you watch?” Ronanhad done a few things he wasn’t proud of in his time, butMahoney made him feel like a missionary.

“Yep. You got an issue with that ‘Mr. Lynch’?” The outlawlooked at the gunslinger with a stare that would have made alesser man grab for his gun—or just plain run away.

“When this is over, I’ll be looking for you, Mahoney,” Ronangrowled. “I’ve seen some bad people in my time, but you aren’teven human anymore. You’re a rabid dog.”

“If you feel that strongly about it, why don’t we just settle ithere and now?”

“Fine by me…” Ronan began, but was cut off when Ketchumstepped between the men.

“When this is settled you two can fill each other with lead toyour hearts’ content. Hell, I’ll even offer to stand off and shootyour corpses a couple times after you drop, if you want. Butuntil then, I think we’d better take care of the rattler problemfirst.”

“What do you care about a bunch of bandits in Nevada,Ranger?” Ronan asked.

“Not diddly-squat. It’s them folks in Hilton Springs I’m worriedabout. Bluebellies or not, nobody deserves to get eaten byoversized fish-bait.”

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“I could care less about those sod-busters, Ketchum, but if youcan get me off this rock, ‘Mr. Lynch’ can live a little longer.”

After a tense pause, Ronan conceded, “I guess I can wait tosettle this. But, Mahoney, I can wait a long time.”

“Now that everybody’s friends again, listen up. I’ve got a plan.”

Chapter NinePredictably, Ketchum’s plan was straight-forward, simple, and

dangerous. He had a couple of Mahoney’s men carry the baiterto the other end of the ridgeline. They would then use it toattract the attention of the rattlers, allowing the two to climbdown into the hole in the desert. The Ranger wouldn’t explain toRonan why he thought it necessary to go underground after therattlers, but the gunslinger had come to expect the man to beclose-mouthed—particularly about important things.

He’d bought a double-barrel shotgun from one of Mahoney’sgang and tossed it to Ronan. “You might need a little morefirepower than that popgun where we’re goin’, Lynch.” Ketchumretrieved a Winchester rifle from his saddle. “Mahoney, I trustour horses will be here when we get back. I know you’ll begettin’ off this rock at the first chance and I don’t blame you. ButI’d hate to think folks got the idea you took our horses ‘causeyou was afraid of meetin’ your date with Lynch, if you knowwhat I mean.”

Mahoney obviously did. “They’ll be here, you old coot. You twohurry up and get in that hole before I lose my good mood.”

A distant gunshot signaled the outlaws had started thedistraction, so Ronan and Ketchum hurried to the hole. TheRanger was also carrying a couple of makeshift torches they’dmade at the campsite. Although it started with a steep, nearlysheer, drop of about ten feet, the hole quickly leveled out to ashallow descent. The walls were nearly uniformly round andcoated with a hard, shiny substance that reminded Ronan of aslug’s trail.

“Them rattler’s is sloppy, always drooling that stuff,” Ketchumsaid, answering Ronan’s unspoken question. “I’ve never heard ofit coating a tunnel like this, though. This must have become aright regular trail for them.”

“That’s another couple of bullets for Mahoney. Why’d we haveto come in here anyway, Texas? Seems like there’s got to be aneasier way to get at these things.”

“I’m sure there is. But I don’t know what it is. Besides, I’m nothuntin’ the rattlers, I’m lookin’ for that Wormy feller. I’m bettin’he’s tied into this somehow. I figure maybe he swallowed thatpiece back at Webster’s place and it changed him somehow.Maybe he can talk to these things and he’s usin’ them to get alittle payback.”

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The tunnel turned out to be longer than either of them hadanticipated. Ronan guessed they had walked maybe a mile oreven two when the passageway suddenly expanded. They foundthemselves in a cavern so large the torchlight didn’t reach the farwall. The same hard, glistening substance covered the walls,ceiling, and floor of the cavern that was on the tunnel, but thefloor was also littered with hundreds of bones—human andanimal.

“I think we found the missing townsfolk,” Ketchum whispered,bringing his rifle up to his hip.

“Not only that, but I’m pretty sure we’ve found Wormy as well,”Ronan added, pointing off to a solitary column near the middleof the cavern. “And I don’t think he’s in charge around here.”

In the flickering light, the men could see the emaciated andbloody body of a man. His hands and feet appeared to beencased in hardened mud and dozens of wounds covered hisbare chest.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being wrong, Texas?” Ronan askedin a hushed voice.

“Sometimes.”

* * *

When they reached the man, Ronan saw his condition waseven worse than he’d first thought. His skin had a jaundiced lookand a number of small punctures dotted his torso. In spite of hiswounds, the man had the strength to not only look up whenthey approached, but he actually smiled.

“Wormy Simmons. Pleased to meet ‘cha,” he said beforebreaking into a brief coughing fit.

“What the Hell is goin’ on, Simmons?” Ketchum asked. He andRonan set to breaking the mud shackles pinning Wormy to thecolumn.

“Mahoney staked me out for the worms after I upchucked onhis boots.” He paused to take a drink from the Ranger’s canteen.“I thought I was a goner for sure, but when that rattler carriedme down here it was as gentle as a momma holdin’ a baby, likeit didn’t want me to come to no harm. Heh, that’s a laugh afterwhat they’ve done to me since…”

“They stuck me here in this mud and then used them snake-tongues a’ theirs to suck the blood out of me,” Wormy continued.“They never took too much; I guess they didn’t want to kill me.They’s brought a whole bunch of folks down here since then.They stick them over that hole for a while.” He bobbed his headtoward a dark pit back near the cavern opening.

“When they’re ready, they suck out all of their blood. Thenthey take a little of mine and mix it with some worm-spit orsomethin’ and they put it in the dead body. A little while later, itbegins to change… I can’t describe it, but it comes back to life.

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They’re like worm-men or something, but I figure we’ll see themright soon anyhow—they live in them smaller caves.” His handsfreed, he pointed to openings to either side of the main cavern. “Ireckon they’ve done made a good dozen or more of those thingsby now.”

“Lynch, I don’t like the sound of that. If he’s tellin’ the truth,those rattlers are a whole lot smarter than anyone thought. Youcheck out one of those caves and I’ll see if there are anysurvivors in the pit.”

Ronan moved cautiously across the cavern toward the nearestcave. The bones scattered across the floor made it difficult tomove quietly; each step seemed to snap another one. When hefinally reached the opening, he could tell the area beyond wasempty. A number of smaller holes pocked the floor, but therewas no other sign of the creatures Wormy described.

“There’s nothing here, Ketchum,” he called.“I got a couple of folks in this hole—let’s get ‘em and get out

before those rattlers come home!” the Ranger answered from theedge of the pit.

Wormy held the torch as Ronan and the Ranger helped thesurvivors out of the pit. They found a couple of townsfolk andone of Mahoney’s men who’d strayed a little far from the safetyof the ridge. When everyone was on the rim, Ketchum pulled asmall revolver from inside his coat and handed it to the outlaw.

“Mister, we may need all the help we can get,” he said, notletting go of the pistol. “You cross me, though, I won’t hesitate toput you down. Dead from a bullet might be a cleaner way to gothan bein’ eaten by a worm, but in the end, dead is still dead.You clear on that?”

The man nodded and Ketchum released the pistol.“As much a surprise as it may be to you folks, I’d really like to

leave now,” Wormy said.“That sounds like a good idea, friend.” Ketchum took the lead,

with the townsfolk and the outlaw behind him. Wormy was next,carrying the torch, and Ronan brought up the rear of the group.They were still more than a mile from the exit, but they’d notseen so much as one Rattler. Ronan was starting to think thetrip was going to go off without a hitch.

Then, some distance from the opening, all Hell broke loose.

Chapter TenThe ground disappeared from under Ketchum’s feet. He hurled

himself back and managed to hook an arm over the edge of thepit that had opened beneath him. His rifle slipped from his graspand clattered into the darkness. The Ranger called for help, butthe others already had plenty of trouble to worry aboutthemselves.

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Out of the ground all around the group came the monstersWormy had described. Ronan could see why he called themworm-men. Their flesh was pinched and segmented like anearthworm’s body. They were similar in shape to a man, but overseven feet tall. Tatters of clothing hung from their yellowish-brown bodies. A mass of tendrils filled a hole in each one’s facethat he could only guess was a mouth. As disgusting as theirappearance was, the gunslinger was more concerned about thelong claws on the ends of the monsters’ hands. A viscoussubstance dripped from them; he wasn’t sure what it was, butfrom the hissing sound it made when it splashed on the ground,Ronan knew the goo was probably acid.

As soon as the first monster was fully out of the hole andstanding, Ronan emptied both barrels of his borrowed shotguninto it. Against a man, a double blast would have left nothingmore than a greasy patch, but the worm-thing was made ofsterner stuff. It staggered back and dropped slowly to its knees.For a moment, the gunslinger thought it was going to get backup, but then it toppled forward onto the cave floor.

The outlaw stood his ground against one of the monsters,emptying the little belly-gun Ketchum had loaned him into it. Ittook all five shots the revolver held, but he managed to kill thething. His victory was short-lived, however. A second monsterburst up almost right under him and dragged him, screaming,back into the ground. The last Ronan saw of him he wasclubbing at the creature with the pistol as it pulled him under.

Wormy was trying to hold off a pair of the monsters with thetorch. The things didn’t seem to like fire, but there were two andRonan could tell it was only a matter of time before they wouldoverpower him. The gunslinger couldn’t spare time to help theman, though as another one of the worm-things rushed him. Theshotgun was empty, so he drew his pistol. The monster was onhim as his six-shooter cleared the holster.

The monster’s claws lashed out toward his chest. Ronankicked himself backward onto the ground to avoid them, fanningthree rounds as he did. All of the bullets found their target, andthe creature was momentarily stunned by the impact. Thegunslinger swept the monster’s legs out from under it and rolledto his stomach. Steadying his arm on the ground, he put tworounds into the head of another of the worm-things as itcharged the two townspeople. Two .45 slugs to the head weretoo much for it and the abomination dropped in its tracks.

From the edge of the pit, Ketchum knew he had to dosomething. There were too many of the monsters for even Ronanto handle. Letting go with one hand, he drew his pistol. He felthis grip slipping, so the Ranger hooked his gun arm partiallyover the lip of the hole, but he couldn’t get a solid purchase.Ignoring his own danger, Ketchum pumped two rounds into one

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of the monsters attacking Wormy. His bullets didn’t stop theworm-thing, but they did get the creature’s attention. Ketchumwondered if that was a good thing.

It left Wormy to its partner and bolted toward the danglingRanger. Ketchum waited until it was nearly on top of him andplanted another bullet right in its leg. The wound, combined withits own momentum, sent the creature tumbling over him and intothe pit. A sickening crunch echoed back up to Ketchum as itstruck the bottom. Taking a moment to draw a bead, he put therest of his bullets into the other worm-thing menacing Wormy.

Ronan regained his feet and used his last bullet on themonster he’d tripped. A clean shot to the head finished it.Looking around, he found all of the monsters either dead orfleeing. Quickly, he retrieved the shotgun and started reloadinghis weapons.

“Hey, Lynch,” a voice called. “How about a hand, here?”The gunslinger saw Ketchum slowly sliding over the edge of

the pit. Wormy had collapsed—his wounds and the fight haddrained nearly all his strength. The townsfolk were huddledagainst the wall of the cave overcome by terror.

“Leave him,” an insidious voice whispered in his head. “Let himdie. He’ll kill you some day. Let them all die—no one will know.”

“No!” Ronan said, not sure if he’d spoken aloud or not. He feltthe thing inside him rushing to take control of his mind andbody.

“If you won’t do it, let me,” it said. “I’ll finish this and get us outof here. I’ll make sure we’re safe.”

Ronan said nothing, but bit his lip to focus his concentration.For what seemed like minutes he wrestled with the thingsharing his head. Then, as suddenly as it had surfaced, it sankback beneath his consciousness. He looked about and sawKetchum still clutching the edge of the pit; he’d only been outfor a moment. His body weak from the struggle, he walkedheavily to the edge of the pit.

“Take your time, Lynch. I figure I got another two, maybe threeseconds before I fall,” Ketchum said. Ronan reached down, tookhis hand, and pulled the Ranger to his feet.

“Like I said before,” Wormy asked as he slowly pushed himselfoff the ground, “Can we go now?”

* * *

“Lynch, for a minute, I thought you’d gone squirrely on meback there,” Ketchum said as he finished reloading his pistol. “Orsomething.”

The two men were walking behind Wormy and the twotownsfolk up the slight tunnel incline. They’d decided any moretrouble was likely to come from behind and put the old drunkup front with the torch to light the way.

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“I was just figuring if your sorry old Reb hide was worth theeffort to drag out of that pit or not. You can’t have more thanone or two good years left in you at best, but, in the end, mygood nature won out.”

Ronan had already reloaded his own pistol. He’d made sure ofit before the group had left the cavern. To a gunslinger likehimself, an empty pistol was only a little more useful than agood-sized rock—and only because most rocks didn’t fit into aholster.

“My hide might be old, but at least I hope to have the goodgraces not to be cheatin’ the buzzards out of an honest mealwhen my time comes.”

“That’s what eventually swayed me—the thought of all thosevultures that would be losing out if you were wasting awaydown in this hole.”

“Lynch, you’re all heart…” Ketchum stopped in mid-sentence.“You feel that?” he continued, in a whisper. The ground quiveredever so slightly underfoot bringing even more dirt sifting downfrom above than usual.

“Yeah,” Ronan answered. “You think the tunnel’s comingdown?”

“Nope. I reckon maybe daddy’s just got home and found themess we made. I think we’d best pick up the pace. Wormy, unlessyou was fond of your accommodations back there, you’d best geta’ move on!”

Keeping any pace above a trot was difficult on the hard floor.Whatever coated it made it as almost as slick as polishedmarble. Still, with Ronan and the Ranger’s help, the threetownsfolk made good time up the slope. The fact the ground wasoccasionally rattled by the shaking of something big movingnearby didn’t hurt.

After a while, Wormy whispered over his shoulder at the men,“I think the torch is about to go out!” Sure enough, the flameflickered badly.

“You know, just once I’d like to have a little good luck,” Ronanlooked at Ketchum as he spoke. “How far you reckon we have togo?”

“I’d have thought we would have been there by now. But goin’uphill always takes longer.” Moments later, the torch sputteredout.

“Damn! I thought for a minute there we was goin’ to get awaywith it, gunslinger. I just hope I can see well enough to givethose monsters a lead appetizer before they get to the maincourse.”

“Tell you what—you stay here and slow them down. I bet yourtough old carcass’ll choke at least one of those monsters todeath,” Ronan said. “The rest of us are going to make a run forit. I think I see some light ahead—you folks stick next to me.”

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“I think you’re seein’ things, Lynch. But, just in case, I’d betterstick close to you. Lord knows what would happen without mearound to look after you! Although I hate the fact that I’ve gottabe your momma.”

Minutes later Ketchum and the others could see the lightRonan was talking about. A faint glow ahead told them theywere near the end of the tunnel. None too soon, either, becausethe vibrations in the tunnel floor and walls had becomeconstant and very strong. The abomination was close behind—and getting closer every second!

The group scrambled out of the tunnel and sprinted the shortdistance to the safety of Red Rock Ridge. None of them hadactually seen the thing behind them, but the ground at the edgeof the ridge bulged and rolled like water as the gargantuancreature burrowed nearby. Ronan fired a few shots into theground as the monster passed.

“You’re just wastin’ lead—that Peacemaker won’t get half a footinto the dirt. C’mon, let’s get a little altitude on this thing. Someof ‘em get big enough to pluck a man out of a second-storywindow!” Ketchum turned and began scrabbling up the rocks tohigher ground. The rest of the group didn’t require any moreconvincing.

* * *

“Looks like Mahoney took me serious,” Ketchum said. “Heactually left our horses here. That’s a good thing. I’d hated tohave to waste a bullet on his sorry hide.” The animals wereexactly as they’d left them—even the saddle bags lookeduntouched.

“As soon as you’re done patting yourself on the back, whydon’t you do a little math and tell me how we divide five peopleamong two horses?”

“That’s simple,” the Ranger said, but he didn’t answer Ronan’squestion right away.

“You folks come over here,” he called. “We ain’t got enoughhorses to get everyone into Hilton Springs on one go. So me,Lynch, and Wormy here are going to make a break for town. We’llsend help back as soon as we do. The problem is I figure thatcritter out there will try for us as soon as we step foot onto thedesert.

“Mister, I need you and your wife to lend a hand,” Ketchumsaid to the two townsfolk. “Down at the other end of the ridge,you’ll find an odd-lookin’ contraption with a crank handle on it.You turn that handle real fast for a few minutes and then high-tail it up the rocks. That thing should bring the worm lickety-split, so keep your eyes and ears peeled for it. When the coast isclear, we’ll make a break for it.”

“Why are you takin’ the drunk?” the man asked.

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“You were down in that hole, right?” Ketchum answered.“Them things got a special hankerin’ for old Wormy. We take himwith us, they’re liable to forget about you and the missus, but Ireckon if you want, we can leave him here with you.”

“Uh… no, you seem to know what you’re doin’, so you fellersshould probably take him.” Ketchum nodded, and the twotownsfolk headed up the trail to the other end of the ridge.

Ronan and the Ranger took up positions on either side of thecrest to watch for the rattler’s departure. After about a half-hour,Ronan saw the wave of dirt roll east along the north ridge.

“Are you sure you want to slow us down by bringing thedrunk along?” Ronan asked as the men saddled up.

“No, I’d rather cut and run as fast as I can, but those thingswant that feller right badly. I think it’d be a real mistake to letthem get their hands, or tentacles, on him again.”

“Besides, your bosses probably want to have a look at him—right, Ranger?” Ronan wondered how much better off Wormywould be in the hands of the Rangers than with the rattlers.

Ketchum seemed to read his mind. “Believe it or not,gunslinger, we’re on the same side—in the big picture. You didreal good down there in the tunnels, but a stand-up fight’s onlypart of it. Now, we can sit here arguin’ philosophies until thatcritter comes back or we can get while the gettin’s good. What’llit be?”

Ronan didn’t answer. He stared at the older man for a moment,then turned his horse and spurred it down the hill toward town.

Chapter Eleven“Texas, I have got to hear this story,” Ronan said as he

followed Ketchum into Parsons’ store. The Texas Rangers, liketheir Northern counterparts, were notorious for concocting talltales to explain the otherwise unexplainable.

“Marshal,” Ketchum began when they entered the store,“You’ve got a big problem here.” For a moment, Ronan thoughtthe crusty old lawman was going to come clean. “There’s beenso many mine shafts sunk hereabouts the ground’s unstable.Folks are fallin’ through into the old tunnels. We found a few outthere at Red Rock—they’d been wanderin’ those old mines solong, I think they’re a little touched. Anyway, this area’s plumbunsound for human habitation. You folks are goin’ to have topack up and move.”

“But… but… but, this is my home!” Parsons finally managed tostutter.

“That may be, but pretty soon your home’s goin’ to sink intothe desert, and you with it if you stick around. I’m goin’ to takeSimmons here to the nearest doctor—he’s had a rough go of it.Mahoney gave him a bad time out there.”

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The marshal argued some more, but it was clear his heartwasn’t in it. After all, Hilton Springs hadn’t been much of a townfor years. Ronan scratched the back of his neck; the Rangeractually convinced Parsons there was nothing going on but acouple of cave-ins. Most folks wouldn’t know the truth if itjumped up and swallowed them whole, he thought.

They walked back out onto the street. Ketchum peeled acouple of bills off his dwindling wad and handed them toWormy.

“Why don’t you head over to the saloon and get yourself abottle of the good stuff?”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard in hours!” Wounded as he was,Wormy still managed to trot across the street to Daly’s Saloon.

“Lynch, I just want to say thanks,” Ketchum said after Wormyleft. “I’d have been in deep trouble without you on this one.”

“Don’t get all doe-eyed on me, old man. You did pay for thework, remember?”

“I know Lynch, but you had a couple a’ chances to cut baitand run back there and you didn’t. That’s why I never camelookin’ for you—all things considered, you’re on the right side.Things are getting’ bad nowadays, if you hadn’t noticed, andthere ain’t too many of us white hats left.”

“Well, I… ” Ronan began, but the rumbling beneath their feetstopped him. The shaking grew until the men could barely stand.“Is that what I think it is?”

Ketchum didn’t need to answer, because just at that momentan enormous Mojave rattler erupted from the street not far fromwhere they stood. Ronan caught a glimpse of another oneattacking the stable. The sound of boards snapping and screamsfrom the saloon told Ronan a third monster had broken intoDaly’s.

“There goes a perfectly good cover story shot all to Hell,”Ketchum said as he sprinted toward the saloon.

* * *

Ronan rushed to his panicked horse to grab the shotgunbefore the animal could break loose and run. Marshal Parsons,drawn by the commotion, ran out the front of the store carryinga scattergun of his own. The sight of the creature rising fromthe ground near the church brought him up short, and he staredat it in slack-jawed horror.

Over 100 feet of the monster was out of the ground as itthrashed around, splintering smaller buildings, but from thelooks of it, Ronan was sure he was only seeing about half themonster. The tentacles hanging from whatever passed for theabomination’s mouth were easily 50 feet or more in length. Thegunslinger yelled to Parsons as a mass of the squirmingappendages slithered toward him.

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The Town Marshal snapped out of his stupor and let loosewith both barrels, but the enormous thing hardly flinched. Thetentacles snaked up and over the man, covering him until Ronancould only see a hand and part of the man’s leg. Parsons waspulled off the porch and dragged toward the rattler’s huge,snapping maw. Ronan fired his own shotgun, more as an act ofdefiance than in any real hope of hurting the monster, and thenran into the general store. He knew what he needed was in thestore—he just hoped he had time to find it.

* * *

The saloon was in a shambles, but given there was a 20-footwide Mojave rattler sticking up through the middle of the floor,Ketchum wasn’t really surprised. There was no way to get intothe building without being crushed or eaten by the humongouscreature. Wormy and the bartender were huddled behind the bar,but it wouldn’t be long before the monster’s tentacles foundthem.

Hoping to distract it long enough to come up with a plan,Ketchum fired his pistol at the rattler’s mouth. The bullet hit asensitive spot, and the creature lashed the room with itstentacles. Ketchum had to dive back from the doorway to avoidbeing struck by one of the flailing whip-like appendages. Itsthrashing caused the monster to strike one of the hangingcandelabras on the ceiling. Since it was late afternoon, only afew of the candles were lit and no real damage was done, butthe monster still recoiled from the heat.

“Simmons!” Ketchum called. “Start tossin’ those whiskeybottles on the thing—try to hit it near the mouth!”

“What—you want to try to get this thing drunk?!”“Just do it!”The drunk did as told, although it obviously pained him to

waste good rotgut. The bartender helped, and within moments,the saloon reeked with the smell of whiskey.

“Daly, I hope you don’t water this stuff down too much!”Ketchum yelled and braced himself against the doorframe. TheRanger took aim at the small chain holding the candelabra overthe monster’s maw. His first shot stuck a little to the left and heovercompensated on the second, missing to the right.

“Damn gunslinger’s never around when you need him,” hemuttered and fired again. The third bullet found its mark and thecandelabra crashed down square onto the rattler’s beak. Thewhiskey caught fire, and the monster let loose a high-pitchedsqueal of pain and surprise. Faster than a creature its sizeshould be able to move, the abomination retreated back into thehole.

“Unless you want to wait around for it to come back, youfellers had better make a run for it!” Ketchum yelled.

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* * *

Ronan charged back onto the middle of the street, his armsfull with a heavy, canvas-covered crate. The gunslinger placedhis burden behind him and turned to face the rattler. Themonster seemed intent on finishing what was left of Parsonsand ignored him. He drew his pistol and fanned all six roundsinto the gargantuan worm. The slugs didn’t do any real damageto the creature. They did, however, annoy it.

The rattler reared its body off the ground and loomed overRonan. Its tentacles were still tangled around the marshal’s body,but it looked as though it intended to simply swat him with itsgreat bulk. The undead gunfighter stood his ground, almostdaring the monster to attack. Suddenly, the thing whipped itsbody down towards him.

He dived to the side, rolled, and then scrambled on all foursaway from the rattler’s attack. The monster’s weight was toomassive for even its great strength to stop its descent, or evenalter the direction of its fall, and it landed right on top of thecrate Ronan had carried into the street. It shook the ground sohard the gunslinger was bounced upward from the ground. Italso detonated the dynamite he found in the general store.

Even muffled by the worm’s body, Ronan was thrown a goodten feet across the dirt road. The concussion knocked the windout of him and left his ears ringing. He felt a stinging sensationin his side as a bone splinter struck him, and then he wascovered in a mass of stinking worm innards.

* * *

“When you blew that big one to Kingdom Come, the third onemust’ve decided it was time to go,” Ketchum said. Wrinkling hisnose, he added, “You know, I didn’t think it was possible, but youactually smell worse, now.”

“At least I’ve got an excuse, old man. How are you going toexplain this? I don’t think anyone’s going to believe the minecave-in story anymore.”

“Yeah, and that’s a damn shame. I was right proud of thatone.” Ketchum mounted his horse as he spoke. “Reckon I’ll justtake Simmons and head back into Arizona. Let them Agencyfellers come up with a story—I’m out of my jurisdiction. See youaround, Lynch.” The Ranger touched his hat in a mock salute.

“Not if I see you first and my gun’s loaded, Texas.” Ketchumsaid as he laughed and wheeled his horse toward the saloon.Getting out of town wasn’t a bad idea, especially if the Agencywas on the way. Ronan looked across the mess of rattler andsaw his horse was gone—probably run off in the fight.

Well, he thought, maybe he could at least find a new pair ofboots in the general store.

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Marshal: 33

Howdy folks! Hope you likedour yarn. Now’s youropportunity to give your ownposse a chance at stoppingthose devilish undergroundcritters.

A word of warning, though—this is one tough ride! Wedon’t recommend that youngguns try to tackle thisadventure.

The Story SoFar

Hilton Springs is a tinytown in southern Nevada.There have been a few silverstrikes in the rocky hills tothe east, and until recently theonly notable thing about thetown was one of its citizens—Clark Webster.

Clark WebsterWebster, born to a wealthy

New England family, cravedexcitement. He served as anofficer in the U.S. Army duringthe early years of the war, butresigned his commission whenthe conflict stagnated. He tooka portion of his inheritanceand moved west looking fornew adventures, finally settlingin Hilton Springs.

A few years ago, he learnedof the Explorers Society (seeRascals, Varmints, & Critters)through friends in Denver.Webster immediately joined thegroup, gladly paying the $1,000initiation fee. He began totravel extensively, discoveringexotic new creatures—and, ashe’d always been a trophyhunter, killing them.

Worms!The Adventure

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Worms!

Last year, Clark Websterwent on another huntingexpedition. As usual, he left alocal handyman, AlbertSimmons, to take care of hishome. Webster never returnedto Hilton Springs.

Wormy SimmonsMost people in town

questioned leaving Simmons incharge of anything. His parentsnamed him Albert, but folks inHilton Springs called him“Wormy.” Wormy has a cravingfor tequila, and eating theworm is a sort of trademarkfor him. Needless to say, hespent much of his time in adrunken haze.

Maybe Webster felt a littlesorry for Wormy—he was thebutt of many jokes aroundHilton Springs—but whateverthe reason, he’d always trustedthe man to watch his housewhen he went on anexpedition. Wormy sawWebster as his only friend.When he didn’t return from hishunting expedition, Albertsunk into a deep despair.

Turning to the only sourceof comfort he knew, Wormybegan a drinking binge oflegendary scale. It didn’t takehim long to spend his meagerfunds, and shortly afterwards,his smaller amount of credit.Desperate, he turned to theone place left open to him—Webster’s house.

The BottleWormy knew Webster had a

good-sized liquor cabinet inhis house. Many a night, he’dsat in front of it and admiredthe fine whiskeys, but loyaltyto his friend kept him from somuch as a sip. Now, he sethimself to draining everysingle bottle within.

But even that didn’t quenchhis thirst.

Webster kept a collection ofmany trophies—normal andotherwise—in his home. Alooming, stuffed polar beardominated the trophy room,but his prize was a tiny pieceof a Mojave rattler tentacle.The monster had come up

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Marshal: 35

beneath him and caught himby surprise near Deadwood. Ithad snared him in its tentaclesand he’d had to cut his wayfree with his skinning knife.

He’d held on to a portion ofthe tentacle and placed it in aspecial solution purchasedfrom a traveling alchemist.Even the alchemist didn’t knowwhat was in the liquid—it hadbeen a fluke—but it kept thetentacle fresh and preservedbetter than formaldehyde.

In his drunken stupor,Wormy found the bottle. Hemistook the concoction fortequila and quickly finished it—worm and all.

Wounded PrideA few days later Wormy

stumbled into “Black River”Mahoney outside of HiltonSpring’s one saloon. Mahoney,a former gunman for MinaDevlin’s railroad, was head of alocal bunch of thugs called theRed Rock Gang. The outlaw,always short-tempered, gut-punched Wormy.

The blow, combined with allthe alcohol (and worse) Wormyhad consumed, was more thanhis battered constitution couldbear. Mahoney got a good lookat what Wormy had eaten forlunch—all over his boots! Someof the more foolhardy patronsin the saloon got a laugh outof the sight, and it was morethan Mahoney’s sensitive pridecould bear.

He dragged the drunkenman out of the Saloon andvowed to make an example ofWormy to anyone else whothought to make him look thefool. Everyone knew what hemeant—you see, the Red RockGang had a special treat forfolks that got on their bad side.

Live BaitThe Red Rock Gang took its

name from a ridge of rockoutside of town. On the desertat the end of the ridge, thegang would stake out acaptive. Not content to wait onMother Nature to do their dirtywork, the skunks had found away to lure Mojave rattlers tothe victim.

That’s where Mahoney tookWormy.

The outlaws staked out thecrying man and retreated tothe ridgeline to watch therattlers gobble him up. But, totheir surprise, when the firstrattler broke through thesurface, it did something they’dnever seen.

The rattler leaned overWormy as if to attack, thenstopped. Its tentacles wentstiff, quivering slightly as theypointed at the man. Ever sogently, it snapped his bondsand gathered him up, retreatinggently into the ground.

The outlaws were stumped.They had never seen one ofthose worms do that, and itwas a little disturbing.

Marshal: 36

Worms!

The Missing LinkThe Rattlers had been trying

to create a new form of beingby blending humans andrattlers. Since the usualmethods of procreationwouldn’t work (for prettyobvious reasons), theabominations had been tryingall kinds of vile experimentson human captives. Up untilthat point, all their attemptshad met with disaster.

When it arrived, the rattlersensed Wormy was somethinga little more than human.Unknown to even Wormyhimself, a change had begun inhis body. The massive amounts

of alcohol, Webster’salchemical concoction, therattler tentacle, and theReckoners’ dark touch hadsomehow combined in hissystem.

Believing him to be the keyto creating “worm-men”, therattler dragged Wormy to anearby nest to study. There thegreat abominations drained offhis body fluids. Then, theymixed some of their secretionsand injected them into otherhumans they’d captured. Aftera few failures, the infusionsproved successful, and the firstwormlings were created.

Harvest TimeThe rattlers have stepped up

their “collection” efforts togather humans. More peopleare disappearing from theoutskirts of town. Thetownsfolk huddle in HiltonSprings, not knowing how toavoid a seemingly inevitablefate.

Black River Mahoney andhis gang have it worse. They’rehiding out on Red Rock Ridge,and, so far, the rock hasprotected them from the worstof the rattlers’ attacks. Buttheir supplies have begun torun low. Any man who tries toescape is snatched the minutehe leaves the ridge.

It won’t be long until thefirst wormlings crawl out ofthe ground. Then, even theridge won’t protect them.

Worms!

Marshal: 37

The SetupThere are a number of ways

to throw a posse into WWWWWorms!orms!orms!orms!orms!.We’ll list a few here, but we’resure you Marshals can comeup with a whole saddlebag ofother ideas on how to turnyour heroes into worm food!

A representative from theAgency might contact theposse to investigate thereported disappearances in thearea. If one of the possemembers is already a memberof the Explorers Society, thatgroup may request he retrievean item from Webster’scollection. If the posseincludes a bounty hunter orlaw dog, a warrant or rewardcould be posted for “BlackRiver” Mahoney.

If none of these suggestionswork, the posse could alwaysjust ride into Hilton Springs.The rattlers are happy to letanyone into town. Getting outis another matter.

Chapter One:Hilton SpringsFear Level 3.A fluke silver strike in 1868

led to the founding of this tinytown in southeastern Nevada.When the mines played outless than a year later, thenearby stream of the samename kept Hilton Springs frombecoming a ghost town. Thewater allowed a few folks to

keep their homesteadsworkable, and a skeleton ofthe original town remained tosupport the scattered populace.

About TownThe main locations in Hilton

Springs, along with theiroccupants, are detailed below.

Bufont’s BoardingHouse

Description: Description: Description: Description: Description: This two-storywood building serves as thetown’s hotel—although theowner does not tolerate rowdyor inappropriate behavior!Room and board costs $3 aweek. Nightly rates are 50¢,which includes supper andbreakfast. Individual meals arepriced at 10 cents.

Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant: Abigail Bufont(61) is a prudish widow.

ChurchDescription: Description: Description: Description: Description: The steeple

on this building clearlyidentifies it as a church. Acircuit preacher rides throughevery other week to holdservices here. There is seatingfor a maximum of 50 people,far more than have everattended a service. Thebuilding doubles as a schoolduring the week.

Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant: The Tullerorphan, Cindy, spends much ofher time here. See Story HourStory HourStory HourStory HourStory Hour,below, if the party attempts totalk to her.

Marshal: 38

Worms!

Daly’s SaloonDescription:Description:Description:Description:Description: The first floor

of this two-story building isoccupied by a bar and drinkingtables. This is one of the largerbuildings in the town.

The owner, Paul Daly,maintains four rooms on thesecond floor for rent at a priceof $1 per night. Three of therooms are currently occupiedby members of the Red RockGang (see Chapter Two fordetails).

Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant: Paul Daly, a tall,slender man with graying hair,is the owner and bartender. Heis currently the only occupantin his bar when the posseenters.

Marshal’s OfficeDescription: Description: Description: Description: Description: This tiny

stone building barely has roomfor the small office and singlejail cell it holds. A gun racknext to the door holds threeWinchester ’73 rifles, a double-barrelled shotgun, and a smallassortment of pistols.

Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant: Hilton Springscan’t afford a full-time marshal.Instead, Frank Parson (seeParParParParParson’son’son’son’son’s General Stors General Stors General Stors General Stors General Storeeeee) doesthe job in his spare time. As aresult, this building is usuallyunoccupied. Fortunately for thetown, there is very little crimeother than the occasional fightwith a member of the RedRock Gang.

Hilton Springs1” = 100 Feet

The Church

Parson’s GeneralStore

The Stable

Bufont’s BoardingHouse

Marshal’s OfficeDaly’s Saloon

Worms!

Marshal: 39

Parson’s GeneralStore

Description: Description: Description: Description: Description: This singlestory building supplies most ofthe needs of day-to-day life inHilton Springs. Any standardpiece of equipment can bepurchased here at 10% lessthan book price (the localeconomy, fueled by a smallpopulation, won’t supporthigher prices).

There is also an old case ofdynamite in a back storeroom.The dynamite is “sweaty,” so itdetonates on a 1 or 2 on a d6if it’s struck a hard blow.

Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant: Franklin Parson(34) or his wife, Deborah (29).Frank is also the TownMarshal. However, thetownsfolk really don’t expecthim to put his life on the linefor his job—hence, he stays outof Mahoney’s way!

ProfileCorporCorporCorporCorporCorporeal: eal: eal: eal: eal: D:2d8, N:3d6, Q:3d6,

S:2d6, V:2d8Fightin’: brawlin’ 2d6, ridin’:

horse 2d8, shootin’: shotgun4d8

Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: C:2d6, K:3d6, M:3d6,Sm:2d8, Sp:2d8

Guts 2d8, scrutinize 3d6Edges: Edges: Edges: Edges: Edges: Lawman 1Hindrances: Hindrances: Hindrances: Hindrances: Hindrances: Obligation

(Marshal)Pace :Pace :Pace :Pace :Pace :Size :Size :Size :Size :Size :WWWWWind:ind:ind:ind:ind:Gear: Gear: Gear: Gear: Gear: A double-barrelled

shotgun, and 25 shells.

StableDescription: Description: Description: Description: Description: Actually, this

is more of a barn, but theheroes can put their horses uphere for a nickel a day. This isalso the stop for the rarestagecoach arriving in HiltonSprings.

Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant: Harlan Jessup(49), a balding man whoseodious personal habits(belching and nose-picking) areobviously the reason he nevermarried.

Webster’s HouseDescription: Description: Description: Description: Description: This two-story

wooden home is described indetail below (see Chapter Two).

Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant:Occupant: Unoccupied.

Under SiegeEven before they’ve been in

town long, the heroes begin tonotice most of the folks inHilton Springs seemstandoffish and jumpy. None ofthe townspeople are tootalkative at first. With all therecent disappearances,strangers aren’t exactlywelcomed into town with openarms.

Part-Time MarshalIf they haven’t already met

him, Frank Parsons seeks theposse out a short time afterthey arrive. Frank is animportant source ofinformation for the posse, soit’s vital to meet him early on.

Marshal: 40

Worms!

He introduces himself to theposse in the following manner:

“Good day to youfolks! My name is FrankParsons and I’m whatpasses for the lawaround here. Well, whenI’m not tending thestore, that is.”

Frank laughs at his ownlittle joke. He’s a good man,but, like everyone else in town,he’s more than a little nervousabout the turn of events lately.

“We don’t get toomany visitors here inHilton Springs. Let me

be the first to welcomeyou to our littlecommunity!

Since we are a littleoff the beaten path, Ihope you don’t mind measking what brings youto town?”

Frank doesn’t give the possethe third degree. He just wantsto make sure the posse hasnothing to do with the recentabductions. He’s no hardenedTexas Ranger, so anyreasonable answer satisfieshim. In fact, even if he didthink they were guilty, Frankwouldn’t know what to doanyway. His job consists oftelling drunks to quiet down orshooting the occasional coyote.

Getting the StoryProvided the posse doesn’t

scare Frank off with somewild tale, he’s quite helpful. Hepoints out the boarding houseand saloon to the heroes, andshows them the location of thestable if they haven’t found ityet. He also slips in a plug forhis own store as well.

After talking to them for afew minutes, Frank looks theheroes over. If any of theheroes are lawmen of any sortor carrying weapons, he asksthem to step into his office. Ifthe heroes are all unarmed andunimposing, he appearshesitant, then asks them thesame anyway.

Worms!

Marshal: 41

Once in the Marshal’s Office,Frank says,

“Look, we’ve got aproblem here. If Mr.Webster were still withus, I’d ask him for help,but… I know it’s none ofyour folk’s business, butI’d appreciate any helpyou could see fit to give.

We’ve had a bunch ofkidnappings lately. Well,that may not be theright word for it. Let’sjust say folks arestarting to disappear.

If I had my way, I’dstick to tendin’ my storeover there, but I up andgot elected marshal.Honestly, I’m over myhead here. I need somehelp—a lot of help really.You folks look like thetype to provide it.

I can’t offer much,just room and board atBufont’s and a dollar aweek. I’d give you more,but all that’s comin’ outof my own pocketalready. I pretty muchmarshal for free myself.The town doesn’t havemuch of a treasury left.”

If the posse accepts, he tellsthe heroes he doesn’t havemuch information on thedisappearances. He doesn’tknow the first thing aboutinvestigating a crime.

What He DoesKnow

At the moment, his primesuspects are Mahoney’s RedRock Ridge Gang—a bunch ofruffians camped out of town.Some of the gunmen havebeen staying over at the saloonlately. He admits he has noskill in tracking, so for all heknows a hoard of Apachescould have taken the people.

All of the victims were fromoutlying farms. He can directthe posse to the homesteads ifthey ask. So far, only onewitness has been found, a girlnamed Cindy Tuller.

“Unfortunately,” Franksays, “I think she’s alittle touched, if youknow what I mean. Mywife’s takin’ care of her,but she spends most ofher time over at thechurch if you want totalk to her.”

Who’s Webster?If the posse asks Frank

about Mr. Webster, he says:

“Mr. Webster wassomething of a localcelebrity. He was anofficer in the UnionArmy—a regular warhero, I hear tell. Anyway,he retired and camewest to be a hunter.

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Worms!

Let me tell you, hebrought back some ofthe weirdest trophiesyou ever did see. Keptthem up in his houseover near the creek.Loved to show them off,he did!

Well, about a whileago, he went off onanother hunt—he hadfriends in Denver whowere always arrangingthese big hunting tripsfor him. It’s been a yearsince he left. He’s neverbeen gone near thatlong, so, honestly, we’vegiven up on him comingback.

Like to broke oldWormy’s heart, it did.That man was justabout his only friend.

Anyhow, Mr. Websterwould’ve been a bighelp. Especially since Idon’t know the firstthing about tracking.”

What About Wormy?If the posse asks about

Wormy, Frank tells them:

“He was a miner whowent bust years ago, butnever left town. He’dtaken a strong liking toliquor—tequila, inparticular. Had a realtaste for them nastyworms they put in thebottles. He spent most

of his time sleeping offhis binges in the town’sone jail cell.

Mr. Webster took aliking to him. Maybe hefelt sorry for the oldcoot, I don’t know, buthe always left Wormy incharge of his housewhen he went on a trip.I’ll say one thing forhim, for all his faults, oldWormy took good careof Mr. Webster’s house.”

Unfortunately, he ranafoul of Black RiverMahoney. Smudged hisboots or something likethat. Whatever thereason, Mahoneydragged him out oftown and no one’s seenhim since.”

Frank knows Mahoney wasa gunman for Black RiverRailroad, and he’s a bad man.He’s ashamed he hasn’t stoodup to the man, but it’s obviousto the heroes he’s terrified ofMahoney.

BountyThe herThe herThe herThe herThe heroes accept frank’oes accept frank’oes accept frank’oes accept frank’oes accept frank’sssss

ofofofofoffffffer:er:er:er:er: 1 white chipThe posse learns ofThe posse learns ofThe posse learns ofThe posse learns ofThe posse learns of

WWWWWormormormormormy’y’y’y’y’s job withs job withs job withs job withs job withWWWWWebster:ebster:ebster:ebster:ebster: 1 white chip

AllAllAllAllAlly: y: y: y: y: As long as the posse iswell-behaved, Frank Parsonassists them in theirinvestigation.

Worms!

Marshal: 43

Chapter Two:Start Diggin’!After they’ve spoken to

Frank, it’s likely the posse hasa number of leads to followup. In this chapter, we’ll detailwhat the posse finds whenthey follow up the clues.

If the heroes decide to cutout the middle man and gocharging out after Mahoney, goto Chapter Three.

Deserted Home-steads

There are eight suchabandoned farms within aday’s ride or so of HiltonSprings. Frank provides theposse with clear directions toany one of these homes. If theposse marks each of these ona map, they find six of theeight are on the south side oftown—coincidentally the sameside as Red Rock Ridge.

At each of these sites, therattlers surprised the owners.They struck during the daywhen the homesteaders wereout on open ground workingtheir small farms or tendingtheir animals.

The situation at each homeis basically the same. Theresidents, and any animalslarger than a housecat, aresimply missing. Investigationshows no evidence of robbery;all the owners’ possessions

appear to still be on hand. Infact, a Foolproof (3) search rollat any of the homes finds 2d10dollars of hard currency—notthe sort of thing most outlawswould overlook!

If a hero looks for signs of afight at any of the homes, shemust make a Fair (5) trackin’roll. On a success, she finds acouple of patches of disturbedearth about 10 to 20 feet indiameter. If she gets a raise onthe same roll, she seesevidence of a body being druginto the area of broken earth.No amount of digging turns upthe bodies—these areas are thecollapsed remains of therattlers’ tunnels.

Meeting CindyCindy Tuller stays in the

church during her wakinghours. She sits in a pew withher legs curled under her andhugs a dirty rag doll. Eachmorning, she stands on theParsons’ front porch and staresat the nearby church untilshe’s built up her courageenough to run the shortdistance. At night, Frank has tocarry her back home and shebreaks out in screaming fits ifhe puts her on the ground.

The orphan escaped theworms by hiding in herparents’ house when thecreatures attacked. However,she saw her mother and fatherdragged underground by theenormous monsters. Because

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Worms!

of that, she’s developed apowerful fear of touching theground for more than amoment or two—the samemonsters might get her!

If the posse tries to talk toCindy, she at first tries toignore them. However, if a heroasks her about her parents andmakes a Fair (5) persuasionroll, she says:

“The wormses got mymommy and daddy.They climbed all overthem and pulled themdown in the ground. Ifyou stay on the dirt toolong, the wormses willget you, too!”

After that, Cindy runs toanother pew where shehuddles at one end andignores the posse.

The Red RockGang

The three members of theRed Rock Gang staying atDaly’s Saloon have a prettygood idea what’s been stealingthe folks around HiltonSprings. Mahoney and his menhave long known about therattlers out in the desert pastRed Rock Ridge. They even feda few unlucky stiffs to thecreatures over the years.

The men—Steve Reid, ChrisWatkins, and John Boylan—haven’t told anyone in town,nor do they intend to. If theydid, they’d be admitting totaking part in a particularlygruesome form of murder!However, they’re in a bad spotbecause the rattlers havetrapped the rest of the gang onRed Rock Ridge and they can’tmake it back. The outlaws areon the verge of lighting outand leaving their compadres inFate’s hands.

The three are never farapart, and questioning any ofthe men on Wormy’s fate orthe gang is liable to lead totrouble. The only way to getany information out of themwithout resorting to violenceis to win a Test of Wills—eitheroverawe, bluff, or persuasion.

Worms!

Marshal: 45

This is a risky proposition,however, because a failureresults in a shootout with thegunmen!

However, depending on thehero’s success, the followinginformation is learned:

Success.Success.Success.Success.Success. Mahoney did takeWormy out to Red RockRidge a couple of weeksago. His temper snappedafter the drunk threw up onhim in front of the saloon.

One raise.One raise.One raise.One raise.One raise. Mahoney stakedWormy out on the desertand fed him to a Rattler.They’d done this severaltimes before—the gang had aspecial place at the end ofthe ridge for just this sort ofthing.

TTTTTwwwwwo raises. o raises. o raises. o raises. o raises. A few days later,the Rattlers started grabbinganyone who tried to leavethe ridge. The three gunmenhave been unable to make itback to the ridge since then.If a gunfight breaks out, usethe description for Red RockGang members found inChapter Three. The mensurrender immediately if anyone of them is killed. Theyalso give up if they suffer aSerious wound or worse.

Red RockToughsCorporCorporCorporCorporCorporeal: eal: eal: eal: eal: D:2d6, N:2d6, Q:4d8,

S:2d8, V:3d6Fightin’: brawlin, 3d6, ridin’:

horse 3d6, shootin’: pistol3d6

Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: C:2d8, K:2d6, M:2d6,Sm:3d6, Sp:1d6

Overawe 2d6, search 2d8,Pace: Pace: Pace: Pace: Pace: 6Size: Size: Size: Size: Size: 6WWWWWind:ind:ind:ind:ind: 6Gear: Gear: Gear: Gear: Gear: Army Pistols, 25 rounds,

and $15 dollars in assortedcurrency.

Webster’s HouseThe front door to Webster’s

home is unlocked. In fact, it’sstanding slightly ajar. Wormywas still drunk when hestumbled out the last time,and he never returned to closeit. The interior is well-kept; thedust that’s accumulated hasbeen during the time sinceWormy’s kidnapping. The onlyarea that’s been disturbed isthe once well-stocked liquorcabinet. Its contents areemptied and the bottles lie ina heap in front of it.

The house is nicelyfurnished; obviously, Mr.Webster was a man of nosmall wealth. In spite of theother lavishly rich furnishings,the trophy room downstairsimmediately catches theposse’s attention.

The Trophy RoomIn the trophy room, the

largest single item is a stuffed,eight-foot tall polar bear. Anumber of other stuffedanimals adorn the walls andshelves, but one shelf holds afew unusual displays.

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Worms!

Each display on this shelfhas a numbered tag on it. Theitems, along with thecorresponding number are: apiece of barbed wire (1); asingle enormous claw (2), anda scarecrow head (4).

A Fair (5) search rolluncovers a piece of paper on anearby shelf identifying theitems. The descriptions arelisted as:

1. Bloodwire—WyomingTerritory.

2. Chinook claw—MontanaTerritory.

3. Piece of rattler tentacle—Deadwood, SD.

4. Scarecrow—Wichita, KS.

The third item is missing,but an Onerous (7) search rollfinds an empty tequila bottletagged “3” under a couch inthe room. Although only a fewdrops of liquid remain, it’sobvious whatever was in herewasn’t likely to have beentequila!

Webster and theExplorers Society

If you wish, you can useWebster as a link to theExplorer Society for the posse.If so, on a Hard (9) search roll,a hero discovers a rare copy ofThe 1876 Edition of theExplorers Society’s Rascals,Varmints & Critters on anightstand in the upstairsbedroom.

Inside the front page is apresentation note to ClarkWebster from AlexanderThornton, head of the Denverchapter of the ExplorersSociety, welcoming him intothe chapter. If you don’t wantto incorporate this group intoyour campaign, simply leavethe book out.

BountyThe posse discoThe posse discoThe posse discoThe posse discoThe posse discovvvvvererererers peoples peoples peoples peoples people

ararararare taken undergre taken undergre taken undergre taken undergre taken underground:ound:ound:ound:ound: 1white chip

The posse finds outThe posse finds outThe posse finds outThe posse finds outThe posse finds outMahoneMahoneMahoneMahoneMahoney gay gay gay gay gavvvvve We We We We Wormormormormormy toy toy toy toy tothe rattlerthe rattlerthe rattlerthe rattlerthe rattlers:s:s:s:s: 1 white chip

The posse figurThe posse figurThe posse figurThe posse figurThe posse figures outes outes outes outes outWWWWWormormormormormy drank a rattlery drank a rattlery drank a rattlery drank a rattlery drank a rattlertentacle:tentacle:tentacle:tentacle:tentacle: 1 red chip

Worms!

Marshal: 47

Chapter Three:Out to Red

RockEventually, the posse is

probably going to head out toRed Rock Ridge to confrontMahoney and his gang. Frank,any of the gang members inthe saloon, or Daly, the saloonowner, can tell the posse howto find the ridge.

On the Way to RedRock

Red Rock Ridge is aboutthree hours’ ride southwest oftown. It’s one of the last lineof hills before it flattens intothe western desert.

As the posse nears theridge, have each member makean Onerous (7) Cognition roll.The heroes who succeed see anumber of disturbed patchesof ground, similar to those atthe abandoned homesteads,along the road.

If a cowpoke gets a raise onthe roll, she even sees thedesiccated remains of a horse’shead, half buried in the brokenground. A little digging findsthe entire horse—saddled, butwithout a rider.

The rattlers don’t bother theposse as they ride out of townand onto the ridge. After all,once they’re on the ridge,they’re trapped!

Red Rock RidgeFear Level 3The ridge rises about 150

feet above the surroundingland, but slopes steeply downat the desert end. It is a spineof rock with a few trailsleading up to the top.Mahoney’s gang has set up acamp on the highest point ofthe ridgeline.

All approaches to the campare closely guarded. Anyoneattempting to sneak up one ofthe trails must win and get araise on a contest of his sneakversus the guards Cognition. Ifhe fails, he’s halted by a guardand the alarm is raised.

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Worms!

The cliffs themselves aren’tclosely watched. Although ittakes a Hard (9) climb roll toscale the rocks, the outlawsonly notice the hero if he failsa Foolproof (3) sneak roll.

Who Goes there?Unless the posse starts a

gunfight, they find the gangremarkably approachable.They’re more than a littlescared at this point, and it’sbeen a long time since they’veseen other humans. They don’topen up on the posse rightaway. Most of them hope theheroes can get them off thesun-blasted ridge at this point.

Mahoney’s men don’t ask theposse to turn over their guns,but they won’t surrender theirseither. The heroes are taken tosee Mahoney immediately.Every step of the way, outlawspester them for a drink ofwater or a bite of food. Themen ran out of food nearly aweek ago and the last waterwas used up yesterday.

“Black River”Mahoney

“Black River” Mahoney isjust about as mean as a fellowcan be and still be calledhuman. For over a year, he andhis gang have staked folks outand fed them to Rattlers—justfor fun. His attitude shows hehas no guilty feelings aboutanything he’s done—or hehides it very well. Chances are,though, he’s just mean as arattler—Mojave, that is.

Mahoney did work for BlackRiver Railroad at one time.However, he lit out withChuckles Ryan years ago.Unfortunately, he lacks thestyle and intelligence ofChuckles, so Mahoney hasended up little more than apetty thug in a small, dead-endtown.

Although he is a wantedman, Mahoney’s pretty bitterabout his lack of reputation.One of the quickest ways toget him to slap leather is tobelittle him in anyway.

Worms!

Marshal: 49

ProfileCorporCorporCorporCorporCorporeal: eal: eal: eal: eal: D:3d10, N:4d6,

Q:3d12, S:2d8, V:2d6Fightin’: brawlin’ 4d6, ridin’:

horse 3d6, quickdraw 4d12,shootin’: pistol, 6d10, sneak3d6

Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: C:3d8, K:3d6, M:3d10,Sm:2d8, Sp:2d6

Guts 3d6, overawe 4d10, search4d8, trackin’ 2d8

Edges: Edges: Edges: Edges: Edges: Sand 2, Tough as Nails3, The Voice (threatening).

Hindrances: Hindrances: Hindrances: Hindrances: Hindrances: Mean as aRattler, outlaw 4.

Pace:Pace:Pace:Pace:Pace: 6Size: Size: Size: Size: Size: 6WWWWWind:ind:ind:ind:ind: 18Gear: Gear: Gear: Gear: Gear: A Peacemaker pistol in

a quickdraw holster (+2 toQuickdraw), 50 rounds ofammunition, and a horse. Onthe saddle, he has aWinchester ’73, 50 rounds ofammunition, and a Smith &Robards Rattler Detector.

The Red RockGang

Mahoney’s gang is a bunchof aspiring outlaws. Anywhereelse, none of these men wouldbe more than a bully or pettythief. However, in HiltonSprings they’ve been able todrag themselves to lowerdepths than they’d dreamed. Ofcourse, having a role modelhas been a great help.

There are currently ninemembers of the gang left onRed Rock Ridge.

ProfileCorporCorporCorporCorporCorporeal: eal: eal: eal: eal: D:1d8, N:1d6, Q:4d8,

S:2d8, V:3d6Fightin’: brawlin’, knife 3d6,

ridin’: horse 3d6, shootin’:pistol, rifle (shotgun) 3d8

Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: C:2d8, K:2d6, M:2d6,Sm:3d6, Sp:1d6

Overawe 2d6, search 2d8,trackin’ 2d8

Pace: Pace: Pace: Pace: Pace: 6Size:Size:Size:Size:Size: 6WWWWWind:ind:ind:ind:ind: 12Gear: Gear: Gear: Gear: Gear: The gang is equipped

with Army Pistols, knives,horses, a Winchester ’73 onsaddle holster, and 50rounds of ammunition foreach gun. One man has aWinchester Lever-ActionShotgun and 25 shellsinstead of a rifle.

Mahoney SpeaksMahoney’s a mean cuss, but

he’s also desperate, so as longas he thinks they can get himoff the ridge, he’s more thanwilling to talk to the heroes. Inexchange for the posse’sguarantee to help him and hisgang get away from Red Rock,he answers any questions.

However, if they won’t agreeto such an arrangement, heresorts to threats or evengunplay. Besides, maybe he candistract the rattlers with theposse’s dead bodies longenough to escape. Even if heloses the shootout, a bullet’s acleaner death than draggedunderground by a rattler!

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Worms!

Provided Mahoney and theposse reach an agreement, hetells them the following:

“Wormy? Yeah, I acedhim. That drunk gotvomit on my boots!

I dragged his hide outhere and staked him outfor the rattlers. Whenwe tied him down thereand rang the dinner bell,somethin’ strangehappened. A rattlercame, like normal, butinstead of eatin’ him, itstood over him for aminute. It’s tentacleswere a’ quiverin’, almostlike it was sniffin’ theold coot.

We all got a laugh outof that at first. Butwhen it bent down andpulled him loose realgentle like—well, then itwasn’t so funnyanymore. It carried himscreamin’ back into thetunnels and we neversaw him again.

‘Bout two days later,them monsters startedgrabbin’ anybody thattried to leave the ridge.Lost four men to ‘embefore we just gave up.”

Mahoney thinks there areseveral rattlers prowlingaround the area, but he doesn’tknow exactly how many.

Stake OutIf the posse asks, Mahoney

shows them the spot wherethe gang staked out victims forthe rattlers. Even now,Mahoney isn’t particularlyremorseful about his pastdeeds—he just doesn’t want toend up in a worm himself.

There are four stakes in theground where the victims’arms and legs were tied withleather thongs. A large hole,nearly 30 feet in diameter,opens into the ground about 15feet from the stakes. Mahoneyexplains the rattlers alwayscome up through that hole.The creatures have used it somuch, it’s become a permanenttunnel into the ground.

Worms!

Marshal: 51

The RattlerBaiter

Just off the edge of therocks rests the rattlers’ “dinnerbell.” It’s little more than awheel mounted on a smallframe with a handle attached.Several rocks hang from ropestied along the rim of thewheel. It’s easily portable,weighing only 15 lbs. total.

When the handle is turnedquickly, the tethered rocks spinoutward and strike the groundas the wheel rotates. Therepeated impact of the rockssets up a rhythmic vibration inthe ground that catches theattention of any nearby rattler.

The gang has set the deviceup on bare ground at the edgeof the rock ridge. They use itto draw rattlers to wherethey’ve staked down one oftheir more unfortunatecaptives. At the first rumblesof an approaching rattler, thegang retreats to the safety ofthe ridge to watch the feast.

The worms long ago learnedthe baiter is a “dinner bell” forthem and come running whenthe gang sounds it. Mahoneyinvested a little of the gang’s“earnings” in a Smith &Robards Rattler Detector awhile ago as an insurancepolicy against surprise dinnervisits.

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Worms!

You’re Going DownThere?

After showing the posse thefeeding area, Mahoney asksthem what their plan is. If theydon’t suggest it, he says:

“I reckon the solutionto those folks’ problemlies somewhere downthat hole. If you’ve gotthe guts, I’m bettin’you’ll find your answersin there.”

While the posse really doeshave to enter the hole to solvethe mystery of the rattlers,Mahoney could care less. Hefigures if he can convince theheroes to climb down into theworms’ lair, then he’s killedtwo birds without even usingone stone.

The worms are sure to behot on the posse’s heels downin the tunnels and likely toignore his gang’s (or at leasthis) escape. Also, the rattlersshould make short work ofthis bunch of do-gooders andhe won’t have to worry aboutthem “interfering” anymore.

Mahoney won’t go in thehole under any circumstances,no matter what approach theposse takes. If the heroesquestion his sand, he gets akilling look in his eye for aminute, but then he’ll turn tothem and say:

“I could care less

about them damn sod-busters from the town.My hide’s all I’m worriedabout, and it don’t makeno sense for me to godeliverin’ it to themrattlers. I’d preferwatchin’ ‘em eat you.

You want to go inthat hole, you go ahead.Me and my men willeven try to distractthose things longenough for you to getdown in there. But not aone of us is goin’ withyou!”

He suggests moving therattler-baiter to the other sideof the ridge. The sound shoulddraw the monsters away fromthe area so the posse canenter the pit safely.

Getting out is anothermatter, of course.

BountyThe herThe herThe herThe herThe heroes defoes defoes defoes defoes defeat the Redeat the Redeat the Redeat the Redeat the Red

Rock Gang in a shoot-out:Rock Gang in a shoot-out:Rock Gang in a shoot-out:Rock Gang in a shoot-out:Rock Gang in a shoot-out:1 white chip

The posse negotiates withThe posse negotiates withThe posse negotiates withThe posse negotiates withThe posse negotiates withthe Red Rock Gangthe Red Rock Gangthe Red Rock Gangthe Red Rock Gangthe Red Rock Ganginstead of a shoot-out:instead of a shoot-out:instead of a shoot-out:instead of a shoot-out:instead of a shoot-out: 1white chip

The posse learns ofThe posse learns ofThe posse learns ofThe posse learns ofThe posse learns ofWWWWWormormormormormy’y’y’y’y’s capturs capturs capturs capturs capture be be be be by they they they they therattlerrattlerrattlerrattlerrattlers:s:s:s:s: 1 red chip

AllAllAllAllAlly: y: y: y: y: If the posse plays it easywith Mahoney, the Red RockGang may help them againstthe rattlers.

Worms!

Marshal: 53

Chapter Four: Into the Dirt

Before the posse heads intothe tunnel, Mahoney tells them:

“I’m not sure whatyou’re gonna find downthere, but don’t stay toolong. There’s more thanone of those rattlerscrawlin’ around hereand I’ve got a feelingthey’re not going to takea likin’ to you foolin’around in their home.

Don’t expect us tostick around too longafter you’re gone either.If we get the chance,we’re high-tailin’ it outof here.”

If they ask, he has some ofhis men haul the rattler baiterto the other end of Red RockRidge and try to attract themonsters’ attention; if theposse doesn’t suggest it, thegang leader raises the ideaagain himself. After all, itwon’t do him any good to havethe posse gobbled up beforethey get a good distance fromRed Rock Ridge—the rattlersmight be still be able to catchthe outlaws before they canescape.

Neither Mahoney nor any ofhis men will enter the tunnels,no matter what the posseoffers or threatens.

Which Way did itGo?

Following the rattler iseasier than one might think.Normally, rattler tunnels cavein behind the monsters, but ifthe creatures travel a particularroute enough, it eventuallybecomes a semi-permanenttunnel. That’s the case allaround the base of Red RockRidge.

Mahoney and his gang havemade that area a frequent stopfor the abominations, and awell-traveled burrow leadsfrom there directly to therattler’s den about two milesaway. The den is fairly deepunderneath the ground, so thetunnel slopes continuallydownward. The posse shouldhave no trouble following thepassage all the way to the lairof the rattlers.

The walls of the tunnel arecovered in a hard, transparentsubstance. If a hero chips at itwith a metal tool or rock, shecan break a small chunk loose.The posse probably won’tknow it—although you canallow an Incredible (11) science:biology roll to figure it out, ifyou’re feeling generous—but thestuff is actually dried rattlersaliva. It takes a lot of tripsfor it to coat a tunnel wall likeit does in this one, so it’sobvious the rattlers traversethis passage on a frequentbasis.

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Worms!

Light filters from theopening for only a shortdistance into the tunnel. Theposse needs some sort of lightto see after just a few dozenfeet. If they don’t have anythinghandy, they can scrounge alantern at Mahoney’s hideout.

Even though the tunnel is 30feet across, claustrophobiccowpokes are going to feel alittle uncomfortable, and thedirt constantly sifting downthrough cracks in the driedsaliva coating is no helpeither! Any hero with a fear ofclosed places suffers a –2 to allTrait and Aptitude checkswhile in the Rattler tunnelsand den.

The Lair of theWide Worms

Fear Level 5After half an hour or so of

walking, the heroes emergeinto a large cavern. The roomis over 100 feet across andnearly as tall. Secretions fromthe worms have hardened thewalls and ceiling, making itnearly as sturdy as stone.

This isn’t truly a lair for thecreatures—it’s nowhere nearlarge enough—but it is anintersection for some of theirmany tunnels. It’s also wherethe crawlers are beginning thecreation of a new species ofabomination—the wormlings.

The Rattler Den

Wormy’s Column

The Captive Pit

W

W

1” = 30 Feet

Worms!

Marshal: 55

Passages enter the room notonly at floor level, but fromevery imaginable angle—someeven open in the ceiling!(Underground, rattlers travel inall directions). The floor islittered with bones of previousvictims and some vilesubstance the heroes can onlyassume is rattler droppings.

Wormy’s position is visiblefrom just inside the tunnelentrance if the heroes areusing a torch or othermakeshift light source.Lanterns and magical sourcesof light might even allow themto see the shadowy outlines ofthe opposite wall.

Something’sStill Here!

Hopefully, the posse hasarranged for a distraction todraw the rattlers out of theden. Otherwise, there is one ofthe huge critters here whenthey arrive! Use the statisticsfor a standard Mojave rattler(Size 14) in the Deadlandsrulebook.

The rattlers are tending their“young,” and they immediatelyattack the posse. Because thecreature keeps the majority ofits mass hidden in the tunnels,the bonus to hit it due to Sizeis only +4. Also, don’t forgetthe penalties for poor visibilityif the posse’s relying ontorches or similar sources oflight.

Once the fight starts withthe rattler, the wormlings (seethe end of this chapter for thewormlings description) emergefrom their grottoes and attackthe posse.

WormyNever the picture of health,

Wormy has been furtherweakened by his ordeal.Wormy’s skin has becomeleathery, with a pale yellowishcast. Over a dozen half-healedpuncture wounds an inchacross dot his distendedstomach where the rattlershave siphoned off his blood touse in their hideousexperiments.

He doesn’t know who theheroes are, but they’re humanand carrying guns. Anythingbeats what he’s been throughrecently, and he is really gladto see them!

The rattlers haveimprisoned Wormy near thecenter of the cavern in acolumn of dirt hardened bytheir own secretions. Large,dark splotches (from the blooddrained from their captives)stain the ground in front ofthe trapped drunk.

His arms and legs are deeplyimbedded in the rock-like mud,and it takes about two minutesof chipping and digging to freehim from his bonds. If theposse works together, theyshould be able to free Wormybefore more trouble arrives.

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Worms!

If the posse gives the manfirst aid or even just a drink ofwater, he tells them thefollowing as they work to freehim:

“I sure am glad to seeyou folks. I figured Iwas a goner for sure.Just like them others.”He nods to some of thebones and remainsaround the cavern,showing the posse thehorrible carnage therattlers have caused tothe town folks.

“You folks keep aneye out for them otherthings—them big rattlersand those other thingsthat are runnin’ arounddown here. I don’t knowwhat they are, but theysure do move fast!

When that rattlercarried me down here itwas as gentle as amomma holdin’ a baby,like it didn’t want me tocome to no harm. Heh,that’s a laugh afterwhat they’ve done tome since… It’s been Hell,I tell ya!

They stuck me herein this mud and thenused them snake-tongues a’ theirs to suckthe blood out of me.They never took toomuch—I guess theydidn’t want to kill me.

Them things hasbrung a whole bunch offolks down here sincethey caught me—someof ‘em I recognized fromthe town, but others Inever even seen before.They stick them over inthat hole for a while,until they’re ready…there’s still a few folksin there right now.

They bring ‘em outhere in front of me.Then they suck out allof their blood, not alittle like they do withme. They suck it all out,then they take a little ofmine and mix it withsome liquid of theirown—maybe it’s wormspit, maybe worm blood,I don’t know—but theyput it in the body.

A little while later,the body begins tochange… I can’t describeit, but it comes back tolife. I reckon they’vedone made a gooddozen or more of thosethings by now. They’relike worm-men orsomething, but I figurewe’ll see them rightsoon anyhow—they livein them smaller caves.Can we leave now?”

Wormy motions to the twocaves marked on the map witha “W” at this last remark.

Worms!

Marshal: 57

The Captive PitThis is where the rattlers

keep their human prisonersuntil they’re ready to convertthem to wormlings. Right now,there are two men and onewoman in the pit.

One of the men is RobertAltman, a homesteader fromnear Hilton Springs, and thewoman is his wife, Tina. Bothwere snatched from their farmand carried here a few daysago, and they’ve been waitingin the pit for whatever fatewas in store for them.

Neither one of them has areal sense of how long they’vebeen in the pit because thereis no sunrise or sunsetunderground. Altman and hiswife are badly shaken by theirordeal, and they are of littlehelp to the posse. They arecapable of walking, however,and gladly follow the heroesout of the tunnels to relativesafety.

The other man is NickWallace, one of Mahoney’soutlaws.

None of the captives has aweapon—the rattlers made sureof that—but if the posse givesNick a weapon, he helps fightoff any attacks on the way tothe surface. He’s been batteredand bruised by his encounter—use the profile for a Red RockOutlaw in the previous chapter,but give Nick a –1 to all Traitand Aptitude rolls for hiswounds.

The pit is about 15 feet deepand steep-walled. There are nohandholds on the sides, so thecaptives can’t climb outwithout assistance from theheroes.

Unless the heroes have arope or similar item handy,they have to find some morecreative method to get thecaptives to the top. The cavesare a little slick, so traveling tothe top will be a little difficultThere are ample protrusionsaround the pit for cowpokes touse for handholds or bracing,so even without a rope, thisshouldn’t be too difficult atask, unless someone is injuredbefore reaching the top.

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Worms!

The WormlingsThese disgusting creatures

are the result of the rattlers’experiments. By mixingWormy’s blood with their ownfluids and then injecting thevile mix into captive humans,the rattlers have successfullycreated “worm-men.”

(For those of you familiarwith our Hell on Earth game,these aren’t quite the samecreatures. They are very similarin abilities and appearance, butthey are only the first attemptto create a new race ofabominations. Of course, if theposse fails to stop the worms’plan, the rattlers may besuccessful a whole lot soonerin your campaign than theyare in that possible future!)

Wormlings are humanoid inform, but larger than a man.Their yellowish-brown bodiesare covered with segmentedflesh similar to that of anearthworm. Yellow eyes and atendril-filled mouth are theonly features on their once-human faces. Finally, long,acid-dripping claws sproutfrom their hands and feet.

When the posse first entersthe den, the wormlings are inthe two smaller cavernsmarked with a “W.” Theserooms serve as living areas forthe new monstrosities. Partiallydissolved bones—human andanimal—are strewn about thefloor in the surrounding,smaller caves. Not all of the

rattlers’ captives were used forthe transformations; some ofthem were dinner for thewormlings!

If there is a rattler in theden when the posse arrives,the wormlings attack withtheir larger cousin. However, ifthe posse drew the crawlersaway from the nest, andentered while the tunnels wereempty, the wormlings take astealthier approach.

While the posse works tofree Wormy and the othercaptives, the wormlings burrowunder the main chamber andset up an ambush for thecharacters.

Near the tunnel leading backto Red Rock Ridge, thewormlings dig a couple of pittraps just below the floor (yes,they do dig that quickly!). Thehardened rattler spit forms thelid of the traps—it supports itsown weight once the dirtbeneath it is removed butcollapses immediately underthe weight of an unsuspectingcowpoke. Then, they wait forthe heroes to try to leave theden.

As the heroes exit the maincavern, have each one wholooks make a Hard (9) searchroll. Anyone who makes itdetects the traps. If the heroesdon’t find the pits, have eachmake a Fair (5) Nimbleness roll.Any cowpoke failing the rollfalls into a pit, taking 2d6 to arandom location.

Worms!

Marshal: 59

The WormlingsAttack!

As soon as a hero dropsinto a pit or the entire posseavoids the traps, the wormlingsburst from the ground andattack them ruthlessly! Unlessthe heroes found the trap, orthey were somehow expectingthe attack, they have to rollsurprise against an Incredible(11) TN.

There are currently four ofthese abominations, plus onefor each member of the posse.One of the monsters stays inany pit that trapped anunsuspecting cowpoke, but theothers attack the heroes stillabove ground.

The creatures continue tofight for as long as theyoutnumber the posse. Once theheroes get the upper hand, thewormlings try to escape. Theywill protect their hive for aslong as necessary, but theywon’t needlessly sacrificethemselves—they have morework to do later!

WormlingsCorporCorporCorporCorporCorporeal: eal: eal: eal: eal: D:2d6, N:4d10,

Q:3d8, S:4d10, V:4d8Dodge 4d10, fightin’: brawlin’

5d10, sneak 4d10, spittin’ 4d6Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: C:3d6, K:2d6, M:3d4,

Sm:3d6, Sp:2d8Search 4d6, trackin’ 5d6Pace: Pace: Pace: Pace: Pace: 10Size:Size:Size:Size:Size: 7WWWWWind:ind:ind:ind:ind: 16TTTTTerrerrerrerrerror: or: or: or: or: 7

Special Abilities:Special Abilities:Special Abilities:Special Abilities:Special Abilities:AAAAAcid: cid: cid: cid: cid: Wormlings produce a

powerful acid they sprayfrom their mouths. This isnormally used whenburrowing through rock,but it can be used as aweapon as well. The acidhas a Speed of 1, RangeIncrement of 2, ROF 1, anddoes 3d10 damage.

BurrBurrBurrBurrBurrooooowing:wing:wing:wing:wing: Wormlings canmove through soil(although not solid rock)at a Pace of 6. Theysneak up on prey andgrab them from below.

ClaClaClaClaClaws: ws: ws: ws: ws: A wormling’s clawdoes STR+2d10 due to theacid on the claws.

Marshal: 60

Worms!

Back to the Sur-face

Once the posse has freedthe captives and defeated thewormlings, they’ve still got along run through the rattlertunnel back to Red RockRidge. As long as they didn’tdawdle in the den too long,the trip back should be tense,but uneventful.

Perhaps an occasionalrumbling hints at a nearbyrattler, or maybe somewhereon the way a minor cave-inslows them down. If theheroes move fast they shouldmake it out without furtherencounters with rattlers or anyof the wormlings.

Mahoney and the rest of theRed Rock Gang lit out shortlyafter the posse entered thetunnel. Fortunately, theoutlaws were grateful enoughto leave the heroes’ horses andother equipment the posse leftalone back at the Red RockRidge Gang’s camp.

SlowpokesOn the other hand, if they

fooled around in the maincavern for longer than 30minutes or so, a small rattler(Size 13) discovers the heroes’handiwork and is soon hot ontheir trail! The monster tries toovertake the heroes and cutthem off while they’re still inthe tunnel.

If anyone in the posse hasless than a Pace 6 (all of thecaptives have at least a Pace6), the rattler catches up to thefleeing party. That’s bad news—just how bad, we’ll leave up toyou Marshal, but let’s just saythere are few places worse tobe than in a fragile dirt tunneland pinned with an angryrattler!

Not Going Anywherefor a While?

If the posse beats the rattlerto Red Rock Ridge, they aresafe for the moment. After theyget things organized, they canlose the monster long enoughto make a break for HiltonSprings. Hopefully, the posselearned from Black RiverMahoney’s experience anddoesn’t try to hole up on therocks. If they didn’t learn theirlesson, and they headed for theridge, then they’re in for a longwait!

BountyThe herThe herThe herThe herThe heroes distract theoes distract theoes distract theoes distract theoes distract the

rattlerrattlerrattlerrattlerrattlers:s:s:s:s: 1 white chipThe herThe herThe herThe herThe heroes roes roes roes roes rescue Wescue Wescue Wescue Wescue Wormormormormormyyyyy

and the toand the toand the toand the toand the townsfwnsfwnsfwnsfwnsfolk:olk:olk:olk:olk: 1 bluechip

EnemEnemEnemEnemEnemy: y: y: y: y: You can bet therattlers are extremelyunhappy with the posse forinvading their nest andstealing away their preciousspecimens.

Worms!

Marshal: 61

Chapter Five: ABad Case of

the WormsOnce the heroes escape the

rattler den and manage toshake any pursuers, they’relikely to think they can relaxfor a bit. Unfortunately forthem, the party is just gettingstarted!

The rattlers are relentlessaround Hilton Springs sincethey have discovered theirsecret in combining humansand worms. They will stop atnothing to ensure they have agood supply of specimens.

Up from theDepths

Once the main group ofrattlers has time to regroup,they set off after the heroes.Wormy was very important tothe rattlers, and they can’tafford to lose him to a fewmeddling gunslingers.

Assuming the posse headedback to Hilton Springs, therattlers attack the town inforce about 30 minutes afterthe posse arrives. Threeburrow under the town itself,while two others block theroad out of town. Anysurviving wormlings join therattlers attacking the town.

Marshal: 62

Worms!

Have the posse make normalsurprise checks at anIncredible (11) TN, unless theyhave a rattler detector or othermethod of noting thecreatures’ approach.

Anyone who succeedsnotices a faint shaking of theground. The vibrations alsocause the church bell to chimeonce just before the attack.

The townsfolk flee at thefirst sign of attack, but FrankParson stands and fightsbeside the posse.

RattlersCorporCorporCorporCorporCorporeal: eal: eal: eal: eal: D:1d4, N:3d6, Q:2d6,

S:6d12+20, V:4d12+20Fightin’: brawlin’ 3d6, sneak

2d8 (when underground)Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: Mental: C:2d10, K:1d4, M:2d10,

Sm:2d8, Sp:1d8Overawe 2d10Pace:Pace:Pace:Pace:Pace: 10 (see below)Size:Size:Size:Size:Size: 10-20 (see area

descriptions)WWWWWind: ind: ind: ind: ind: 40TTTTTerrerrerrerrerror:or:or:or:or: 11Special Abilities:Special Abilities:Special Abilities:Special Abilities:Special Abilities:

Armor: Armor: Armor: Armor: Armor: 1BurrBurrBurrBurrBurrooooowing:wing:wing:wing:wing: Underground

Pace 18 (cannot bedoubled by running).

Damage: Damage: Damage: Damage: Damage: Bite (STR+2d10; AP2)

Surprise:Surprise:Surprise:Surprise:Surprise: Travelers whodon’t recognize therumblings of a rattlerbeneath them subtract –4from their surprisechecks.

TTTTTentacles:entacles:entacles:entacles:entacles: A rattler seizes

its prey in its tentaclesand drags it into its maw.While it has manytentacles, it only attacksa single target at a time.The tentacles have 3d12Strength and are onequarter the length of theworm. Once it grapples atarget with a raise on anopposed Strength roll, theworm begins pulling thevictim toward its mouth.Every success pulls theprey 1 yard closer.

The rattler’s tentaclescan take 30 hits beforethey’re useless and theworm retreats. However,bullets and otherimpaling weapons doonly one point each,while shotgun blasts andcrushing weapons do 2points. Cutting weaponsdo full damage.

THe SaloonOne of the rattlers (Size 15)

bursts through the floor ofDaly’s Saloon and attacksanyone within the building.Each round, any character inthe saloon must make anOnerous (7) Nimbleness roll toavoid being hit by the monsteras it thrashes about. Anycharacter struck by the rattler’sbody takes 1d6 damage to arandom location for each pointhe missed the TN. For example,a hero who rolled a 5 wouldtake 2d6 damage.

Worms!

Marshal: 63

The StableA second rattler (Size 15)

tunnels up into the stable.There it begins to kill anyhorses it finds. If the heroesdon’t intervene, theabomination can put down onehorse every 5 rounds. Again,due to the confined space, anycowpokes fighting the rattlerin the stable must make anOnerous (7) Nimbleness roll ortake damage as above (TheTheTheTheTheSaloonSaloonSaloonSaloonSaloon).

Main StreetThe largest rattler (Size 18)

in the nest erupts from theroad right in front of theMarshal’s Office. Thismonstrosity is easily over 80yards long, although less thanhalf its length ever gets out ofthe ground.

It’s intent on laying waste tothe town and any human itfinds. The monster uses itstentacles to snare prey in thenormal fashion, but it also hasa second attack. It attempts tosimply crush heroes that arefoolish enough to move intoopen ground with its massivebulk.

To attempt to swat a herowith its body, the rattler musthave a clear target. It can’tattack characters in buildingsand the like—although it cancrush most of the buildings,the debris still foils the attack.It must use an Action Card toswat, but if it has another

character in its tentacles, itcan continue to draw theminto its maw. The monstermakes a fightin’: brawlin’ rollwith the normal modifiers; if itgets a success and a raise, itslaps its body down on thevictim.

If the victim wants to takean active defense against theswat, she must make a dodgeroll—this sucker’s too big tofend off!

Should the rattler actuallyhit a hero with this attack, thepoor sap had better hope she’sgot a lot of chips to spend!The damage is 6d12+20. Rollthe dice and total the result,then determine each wound’slocation randomly as in anexplosion.

Any character caught in therattler’s tentacles takes 1d6Wind each time it whips itselfonto the ground like this—whether or not it’s successful!

The WormlingsIf the posse left any of

these disgusting hybrids alive,they burst up from the groundnear Wormy’s location. Thewormlings focus on capturingWormy—the rattlers want himback alive so they cancontinue producing thewormlings. The man-likeabominations aren’t so focusedon their goal that they ignoreany heroes attacking them, butthey won’t go out of their wayto confront one, either.

Marshal: 64

Worms!

If Wormy’s dead, they join inwith their enormous relativesand begin destroying the townand everyone in it. They starttheir attack at Bufont’sBoarding House.

The Road out ofTown

Two rattlers (Size 15) guardthe road out of Hilton Springs.There’s one of the critters oneither side, about a half mileout of town. The monsters arehiding below the surface andwait until any escapees aredirectly above them to attack(–4 to Surprise).

Run Away!The rattlers aren’t willing to

throw their lives away for thesake of revenge—after all,these monsters live a very longtime!

Any individual rattlerretreats if its tentacles are cutoff. The rules for this are foundin the Deadlands rulebook.However, the largest monster isolder and tougher than theaverage rattler. Its tentaclestake 45 points to sever.

The group as a whole givesup and retreats if the largestrattler is killed or chased awayand the other two have at leastSerious wounds. If the twosmaller rattlers retreat or arekilled, the larger rattler fightsfor one more round and thenflees as well.

But They Didn’tGo to Town…

It’s possible the heroeschose to avoid returning toHilton Springs altogether.That’s okay—it just takes therattlers longer to find them—make no mistake, though, therattlers will find themwherever they are. Thesecritters have gotten a good feelfor Wormy’s scent and aredead-set on bringing him back.

If the posse skirts the town,they’ve got a whole lot ofdesert around them—prime realestate for rattlers! There are afew rocky outcrops like RedRock Ridge, but eventually,they have to move onto openground. Once they’re off thesafety of solid rock, they faceall five—yes, five!—rattlers, andany surviving wormlings.

In this case, theabominations retreat if theheroes manage to drop threeor more of their number. Therattlers also run away whenfour or more of them havetaken Serious wounds and allthe wormlings fighting withthem are dead.

What to do withWormy?

If Wormy lives through hisrescue and the final battlewith the rattlers, the heroesface a difficult choice. What dothey do with Wormy?

Worms!

Marshal: 65

The poor man is slowlyturning into a wormlinghimself. He’s obviouslyvaluable to the rattlers, andthe heroes may have a goodidea what the crawlers wantwith him.

If the monsters get theirtentacles on him again, itcould mean dire consequencesfor humanity. They will be ableto pursue their eviltransformations and create arace of worm-men.

On the other hand, Wormyis an innocent victim. Turninghim over to the Agency or theRangers might not be the idealsolution, since his fate willthen be in their hands.

Guess what? There is no“right” answer to this problem.The posse has to work it out,but the solution should provideplenty of opportunities forsome Disadvantages like heroicand law o’ the West to comeinto play!

BountyThe posse helps defThe posse helps defThe posse helps defThe posse helps defThe posse helps defendendendendend

Hilton Springs:Hilton Springs:Hilton Springs:Hilton Springs:Hilton Springs: 1 red chip.The posse defThe posse defThe posse defThe posse defThe posse defeats theeats theeats theeats theeats the

rattlerrattlerrattlerrattlerrattlers:s:s:s:s: 1 blue chip.

Bonus: Bonus: Bonus: Bonus: Bonus: If the posse stays todefend the town, award apoint of Grit to anycowpoke tough enough tothwart the rattlers and live.