Demon Head of Tucson

By William Winckler

Demon Head of Tucson

 

When a young Native American woman is stalked by a horrific disembodied head out to kill her, a wandering cowboy helps escort her to the safety of a Christian reservation.  On the way, they must battle and ultimately destroy the monstrous demon before everyone in the Arizona territory is wiped out by it!  An exciting, chilling, western-horror tale loosely based on the Native American legend of "The Rolling Head," from author/screenwriter William Winckler (Ultraman X the Movie, Frankenstein vs the Creature from Blood Cove, Zombrex: Dead Rising Sun).

 

About the Author

 

William Winckler was born in Van Nuys, California.  During his prolific career, he has written, produced, and directed nearly fifty feature films, several TV series, pilots and English language Japanese movies and anime.  Select credits include; Tekkaman the Space Knight, Gaiking, Danguard Ace, Starzinger, The Double-D Avenger (reuniting the Russ Meyer film stars), the award-winning Frankenstein vs. the Creature From Blood Cove, Capcom's Zombrex: Dead Rising Sun based on the famous zombie video game Dead Rising, Ultraman X the Movie (the 50th Anniversary film of the iconic Japanese Ultraman superhero character/brand), Ultraman Ginga S the Movie, and Mega Monster Battle: Ultra Galaxy (a Warner Bros. Japan release).  Winckler has also authored several works of fiction, including the western-horror novel Demon Head of Tucson, and the humorous titles The Double-D Avenger Meets the Horny Howlers and The Double-D Avenger and the Dirty Movie House Mystery based on his cult film classic The Double-D Avenger.  He currently resides on the east coast of the U.S., after spending most of his life in Southern California.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Winckler
• Release date: Jan 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201633813

William Winckler

WILLIAM WINCKLER was born in Van Nuys, California.  During his prolific career, he has written, produced, and directed nearly fifty feature films, several TV series, pilots and English language Japanese movies and anime.  Select credits include; Tekkaman the Space Knight, Gaiking, Danguard Ace, Starzinger, The Double-D Avenger (reuniting the Russ Meyer film stars), the award-winning Frankenstein vs. the Creature From Blood Cove, Capcom's Zombrex: Dead Rising Sun based on the famous zombie video game Dead Rising, Ultraman X the Movie (the 50th Anniversary film of the iconic Japanese Ultraman superhero character/brand), Ultraman Ginga S the Movie, and Mega Monster Battle: Ultra Galaxy (a Warner Bros. Japan release).  Winckler has also authored several works of fiction, including the western-horror novel Demon Head of Tucson, and the humorous titles The Double-D Avenger Meets the Horny Howlers and The Double-D Avenger and the Dirty Movie House Mystery based on his cult film classic The Double-D Avenger.  He currently resides on the east coast of the U.S., after spending most of his life in Southern California. Correspondence for the author should be e-mailed to: [e-mail]

Book preview

For the young star of many

classic Hollywood westerns,

my father, Robert Winckler.

CHAPTER ONE

A bright sun illuminated the blue sky and magnificent sandstone cliffs of the Arizona desert.  The rocky terrain was hot and silent, until dust rose from a hill, disturbed by the sound of horse hooves. A single rider appeared, wearing a dusty long sleeved shirt, woolen trousers, and a cowboy hat with neckerchief.  The handsome twenty-nine year old cowhand was tired and sweaty Billy Carson.  He had a strong, honest face with brown eyes, and dark wet hair peaking below his hat. 

Billy’s gun belt holstered a new 1873 Colt single action .45.  He had made sure his saddle bags, canteen, and rope were tightly securely to his saddle.  Squeezing his boot spurs into his mount’s big belly, he prodded his half quarter-horse Preston along, determined to reach town by sundown.  He knew he was nearly there.   

Riding a few more hours, Billy and his brown stallion finally reached their destination . . . Corrigan City.  The cowhand was relieved, and the first thing he wanted was a cold drink, followed by a bath, then a hearty meal.  Corrigan City was a small Arizona town, with lines of wood buildings on both sides of its main street.  Hitching posts and a few horse troughs appeared in front of the saloon and hotel.  Seated in his saddle, Billy walked Preston to one of the troughs.  He surveyed the town as his thirsty horse drank. 

He was glad to be there at first, but soon realized something was wrong.  Why was it so quiet?  The town was deserted, with not a soul in sight.  The saloon, hotel, bank . . .  the post office, barber shop, general store . . . the newspaper office, sheriff’s office and jail, and other buildings and shacks . . . were a complete ghost town.  He thought that was very strange.  An unhitched buckboard stood near an overturned barrel.  No other horses were seen. 

Billy dismounted and tied Preston to one of the hitching posts. 

Guess everyone’s left town, Preston, he half-heartedly chuckled.

Moving to an open store window, he peered in. 

Hello? he called out.  Inside he saw empty chairs, a table, a potbelly stove, and various groceries, such as bags of flour and cans of beans, scattered on the floor.  Silence was his only response.  Questions flooded his mind . . . what was going on?  Did something happen?

The curious cowhand turned and continued down the walkway.  The only sound was the echo of his boots, as they stepped on each wooden plank.  He moved to the front door of the newspaper office, tried the doorknob, and found it locked.  This time he thought he’d yell a little louder. 

Hello? 

Something strange caught his eye across the street.  A man was lying face down, motionless, in the hot dirt.  Alarmed, Billy ran to him.

Sir, you need . . .?  He never finished his sentence, as he kneeled and took a closer look at the finely dressed, middle-aged gentleman.  The man was dead.  The back of his neck looked like it had been ripped out, as if attacked by some kind of wild animal. 

Time stopped for Billy as he froze in shock.  The gory wound was a messy hole of dried blood, torn flesh and muscle, bits of spinal bone, and a severed windpipe.  Horrified, Billy lifted his hand away from the corpse, and then slowly rose to his feet. 

An urgent female voice shattered the silence. 

You there, come here! 

He whipped out his gun and spun to face the voice in front of the saloon.  It was the voice, and face, of a young Indian woman.  Billy stared at her with deadly eyes.  He wondered if she’d been the killer, and was set to fire with trigger cocked.  His heart raced as he studied her over, from head to toe, searching for her weapon.  She wasn’t armed.  

The woman was a beautiful Native American in her mid-twenties, in complete native dress with beaded moccasins.  Billy then noticed something a little odd . . . the woman wore a leather necklace with a wooden Christian cross tied to it.

"You must get inside!" she pleaded. It will be dark soon.  Come! 

The cowhand slowly holstered his Colt, and then cautiously approached her. 

What’s going on?  Who killed that man? 

The demon! she nervously replied. 

Demon? he puzzled. 

Please, she begged. The sun will be down soon!  Follow me into the saloon. 

Billy could see the woman was deathly afraid.  Feeling he had no choice, he did as she asked. His thoughts then strayed back to Preston. 

My horse, I have to. . .  

The stables are behind the saloon, she interrupted.  Hurry, follow me! 

Somehow, he sensed he could trust the young woman.  He moved to Preston, and then led the animal by his reins.  The mysterious native guided them along.

Once the horse’s hay and watering needs were taken care of, the young woman shut the stall’s gate, and then led Billy back to the saloon.  He introduced himself as Billy Carson, and the native, in her mad rush, revealed her name.  She mumbled it too fast for him to catch it, as she rushed him inside.  The two disappeared through the saloon’s bat wing doors, as the sun began to set. 

Inside, Billy had never seen a saloon so quiet.  Empty chairs surrounded deserted poker tables with scattered playing cards, chips and beer glasses on them. No one was playing at the piano, nor where there any drunks leaning up against the long antique bar.  Liquor bottles lined the wall behind the bar.  A mounted elk head with magnificent antlers seemed to be staring at a nearby oil painting of a nude woman reclining on a red velvet sofa. 

As Billy glanced at a cracked mirror behind the bar, the only reflections he saw were the native woman’s and his own.  The townsfolk . . . trappers, lawmen, outlaws . . .  miners, gamblers, and other gin mill customers . . . had all apparently vanished.

Ducking into the back kitchen for a moment, the native quickly returned with some food and drink. 

Here, Mr. Carson, some beer and bacon.  There’s cornbread too.  It’s all I could find for now.  She placed it on a table and sat down. 

Thanks Ma’am.  You can call me Billy, he replied as he took the empty chair next to hers.  He needed to know what the hell was happening, and who, or what, killed the man outside. 

Now, what’s going on here . . . Is . . .? he asked, struggling to say her native name properly. 

My name is pronounced, Istu. 

He was suspicious of the woman, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sweet, delicious taste of the buttered cornbread, and thick bacon.  The beer was refreshing too, as it quenched his thirst and settled his nerves.  His mind, however, drifted back to the dead man in the street. 

He carefully questioned her again, worried there might be renewed Indian trouble in the territory. 

Istu, did your people kill that man?  There’s a peace treaty. . . 

"No, it was the demon! she bitterly broke in.  She’s after me.  She killed everyone here in Corrigan City, and those who survived left town as fast as they could, on horseback, in wagons. . . I’m the only one left." 

Billy listened intently.  He believed the attractive Istu was telling the truth.  She had a beautiful face with enchanting, honest eyes.  He sensed in her a kind, loving, femininity, combined with a strong, intelligent, independent spirit.   

Demon? he questioned.

Just then, a strange, eerie laughter was heard outside.  It was deep and gravelly.  Istu and Billy froze in place at their table. 

"That is her!  She’s returned!" Istu urgently warned with widened eyes. 

Billy could see her trembling, and once again his defenses were up.  His heart began to pound, and he could feel his palms getting sweaty.  He was ready for a fight.  The cowboy rose from his chair, pulled out his gun, and raced to the swinging doors. 

No don’t!  Your gun’s useless! she pleaded, rising from her seat.

Ignoring her, Billy bolted out of the saloon with his gun drawn.  The sun had just gone down, and the town was now dark.  Moonlight bathed some buildings in ghostly white luminescence.  Other sections of town remained blanketed in patches of dark shadows.  He nervously looked around, up and down the main street, to see where the laughter was coming from.  He wasn’t about to let his own neck get ripped out, and would see to it that the murderer laughed her last laugh. 

He wished the lamp posts had been lit, so he could have seen better, as he surveyed the abandoned buildings and storefronts. 

The laughter stopped, as Istu grabbed Billy’s shoulder from behind.  He was startled for a second.

Billy, please get back inside!  She’ll kill you! 

No one can out-gun me, or slit my throat! he grumbled back. 

The evil, gravelly laughter resumed. 

Who’s there?! he yelled out. Listening carefully, he ran towards the sound. 

Please, no! 

The cowhand knew he had to stop whoever was killing the townsfolk, especially since there wasn’t a sign of any sheriff or deputy around.  He trusted Istu, and wasn’t about to end up like the corpse in the street.  He had faced killers on cattle drives in the past, and stood up to them, wisely realizing it was the only way to survive in the Wild West. His eyes quickly scanned the post office, general store, and barber shop.  It was more of nothing.   

The demonic laughter continued, taunting the cowboy.  Growing angrier by the second, Billy stalked the streets.  He had to find the source of the devilish cackling. 

"Come on out!  Quit hidin’!" he exploded.  There was a streak of movement . . . a  shadow darting away into an alley. 

Something purely evil was spying on him . . . a sinful, satanic mind filled with fury and hate.  It intended to slaughter the young cowboy, as it slowly snuck up behind him.  Whenever Billy turned his head to look its way, it would dart back, disappearing into darkness. 

The scene became a grand, diabolical game of cat and mouse, until the cat got too close.  Billy spun around fast, finally catching sight of the demon.  His mind couldn’t register what he was seeing.  His heart leapt.  Complete terror flashed through his mind, body and soul.  He clenched his teeth and his mind raced.  Was he imagining it?  None of this could be real.  Was he hallucinating?  Could it be the beer he just drank?  His heart continued beating a mile a minute, as his whole body felt frozen . . . paralyzed.  He couldn’t move his trigger finger to fire his gun. 

What he saw was horrifically unbelievable.  An ugly, disembodied head, topped with messy black hair, was magically floating in midair.  The ghastly abomination hovered towards him.  The monster’s face was that of a Native American woman in her thirties . . .  but the wrinkled face was horrible . . . . an evil, malignant, ugly one that had been in dirt.  Billy realized it was a corpse’s head, not a ghost.  It was a real, solid object, with a zombie-like face, dusty and partly decayed from being buried. 

It reeked of rotting flesh, and Billy thought he’d lose the meal he just ate from the appalling stench.  The floating head was alive, and its demonic eyes burned with malevolence!  He questioned how a hallucination could smell so bad . . . unless it was no hallucination.  The cowhand’s own eyes grew wider, as the monster’s mouth chomped up and down, like a hungry animal’s.  The devil revealed decaying fang-like teeth with dripping saliva of green pus. 

Billy finally broke free from his hypnotic state of shock.  With teeth still gritted, he commanded his right finger to fire his Colt single action multiple times into the creature.  When the loud blasts ceased and gun smoke cleared, he still couldn’t believe it.  As Istu had warned, the shells had absolutely no effect.  His bullets passed right through its skull, scattering dead flesh and dust.  Seconds later, the wound holes sealed back up under some kind of satanic power.  The monstrosity was unharmed, and continued to close in on him, gurgling its sinister giggle. 

As he turned to flee, the floating head tried to bite the