Jonah Hex: Shades of Gray #11

It had only been a dream. A bizarre dream brought on by a vicious head wound and copious amounts of Indian medicine, but a dream nonetheless. Jonah had to keep reminding himself of that fact, even as he stood there dressed in his Confederate uniform once more
and readying his horse for the long ride to come. He couldn’t get over how vivid it had all been: visions of himself as an old man, bleeding to death on a saloon floor, followed by one maddening tableau after another. He’d even seen Jeb, and spoken at length with him, impossible as that was -- Jeb Turnbull was long dead, and corpses couldn’t speak. Despite knowing that everything he’d witnessed wasn’t real, Jonah couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling it gave him.

[Fear], a very small voice said.

Jonah’s back stiffened at the words. He turned away from his horse and looked about, but all he saw was Tallulah and Bat, along with the Indian medicine man who’d nursed him back to health. Jonah knew none of them had spoken -- the voice had sounded almost childlike -- yet no one else was there. He dismissed it as some lingering remnant of his dream and turned back to his horse to saddle up. Bat was already on his mount, and he soon rode away from the group with a wave of his hat and a grin on his face. Jonah watched him go, thinking about how nothing ever seemed capable of souring Bat Lash’s disposition.

[Hope].

That voice again, whispering in his ear, or so it seemed. He almost asked Tallulah if she’d heard it, but he held his tongue. Unaware that anything was amiss, Tallulah flirted with him in her usual manner, which eased some of the tension Jonah felt. She was a special gal, that Tallulah, and while there had been many women over the years that he’d shared his life with, none of them ever understood him the way Tallulah did.

[Love], the voice said now, almost sighing.

Jonah closed his eyes and gave his head a shake. Who kept talking? Where were they hiding? He looked up in time to see Tallulah riding off, leaving him alone with the medicine man. Was the voice coming from him, like some Indian hoodoo? No, Jonah knew that wasn’t
it, though the real answer still eluded him. As he took up the reins, Jonah asked the Indian if he needed anything before departing.

“I have all I need here, Jonah Hex,” the Indian replied solemnly. “Wherever you ride, may you find peace.”

[Jonah Hex of Earth is at peace]. The voice had taken on an insistent tone, as if upset that the medicine man suggested otherwise. It was also a little louder, which helped Jonah pinpoint the source: a strange black ring adorning his left hand. Puzzled, he lifted his hand and stared at it, thinking, Where’d this come from? An’ how in blazes kin it talk?

The questions had barely formed in his mind when Jonah was distracted by a loud banging, like a series of gunshots. Without thinking, he yanked on the reins, which caused his horse to rear up, and he soon found himself tumbling out of the saddle and into a gray mist. It wrapped around him tightly, pinning his arms to his side as he fell down and down and...

Jonah let out a grunt when he hit the floor, missing the coffee table by inches. Untangling himself from the blanket, he sat up and leaned against the couch that had been serving as his bed. It took him a moment to recall where he was, namely Hal’s apartment in
Coast City. They’d arrived there not long after dawn, and the last thing Jonah could remember was Hal turning on the television and flipping through the images so fast Jonah’s eyes couldn’t keep up. Must’ve dozed off, he thought, rubbing a hand over the right side of his face. Wonder how long? He glanced over at the window and noted that the sun was rather high, so it certainly wasn’t a catnap. However long it was, he certainly felt rested. In fact, it was probably the best he’d felt since this whole craziness started a week ago -- not having nightmares about being dead helped in that respect. Still a mite strange, though, dreamin’ about the old days like they was right now. Reckon me bein’ at peace doesn’t mean Ah cain’t miss whut’s long gone.

The banging he’d heard earlier resumed, and this time he recognized it as someone knocking on the front door. Jonah stood up and walked over to the door, instinctively reaching for one of his guns -- he’d fallen asleep fully dressed, right down to his gunbelts. There was a peephole in the door, so he held the gun at chest level as he looked through it to see a rather attractive dark-haired woman standing on the other side.

[Love!]

Jonah jerked back from the peephole and looked at the black ring upon his finger. “Whut did yuh just say?”

[Love], the ring repeated, and Jonah realized all the color was leaching out of his vision, rendering everything around him in blacks and whites and grays, just as the ring had done when trapped inside his heart. Figuring that it was trying to show him something, he looked through the peephole again and saw that the woman was now bathed from head to foot in an intense violet light, especially over the ring she herself wore. The violet took on a flicker of red as the woman shouted at the door, “There’s no point in hiding, Hal! I know you’re in there!”

“I’m coming, hold on a minute,” Hal called out from the bathroom. He emerged moments later, wearing only a pair of jeans and drying his hair with a towel. “I couldn’t hear you with the water...” Hal stopped when he spotted Jonah standing there with his gun still pointed at the door. “What’re you doing?” he hissed at the gunfighter.

“She’s got a ring...a violet one. Wasn’t sure if’n she was trouble or not.”

“It’s just Carol, she’s fine. Now put that away!” Hal pushed past him to open the door.

“Like Ah know who’s trouble an’ who ain’t,” Jonah muttered, flipping the gun back into the holster. To his surprise, the whole rig then vanished, turning both Dragoons into a swirl of gray ash that was quickly swallowed by the black ring -- his vision returned to normal around the same time. “Whose side are yuh on?” he asked the ring.

[Compassion], it replied.

“Sorry, Carol,” Hal said as he let her in. “I forgot that I was supposed meet up with you. Something unexpected happened.”

“Something unexpected always happens with you.” She gave him a cold look. “It was silly of me to think that, with all this business of finding the other entities, you might try harder
to be punctual for a change.” She then caught sight of Jonah. “Oh. I didn’t realize...”

“Don’t worry, he knows all about it. Carol Ferris, this is Jonah Hex.”

Jonah gave her a nod and hooked his thumbs under his belt, which caused her to notice what was on his left hand. Looking somewhat concerned, she asked Hal, “Is he wearing what I think he’s wearing?”

“Yeah, that’s the ‘unexpected’ thing that happened...and don’t worry, we’re safe. He’s not going to go all Black Lantern on us,” Hal said. “You had breakfast yet?”

“It’s almost one in the afternoon.”

“Then you can call it lunch.” He turned to Jonah. “Bacon and eggs sound good to you?”

“Toss in some coffee an’ yuh got a deal,” he replied.

“Sure thing. It should all be ready by the time you get out of the shower.” When he caught sight of the blank look on Jonah’s face, Hal said, “You were going to take a shower, right?” Still no reaction. “Please take a shower? For the sake of all those downwind?”

A noise somewhere between a growl and a curse came out of Jonah’s throat as he headed for the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind him to emphasize just how much he was against Hal’s suggestion. “He seems charming,” Carol said. “Now, who the heck is he, and why is he sporting a black ring?”

“God, where to start?” Hal walked into the bedroom, tossing the towel aside and grabbing a black t-shirt out of the closet. “First off, he’s not from this time: he was originally a bounty hunter in the late-1800s, so if he seems a bit out-of-sorts to you, that’s why.”

“I take it this is going to involve time travel?”

“Yep.” He pulled on the shirt as he headed for the kitchen, saying, “I’ve run into him twice before. First time was twelve years ago, on a JLA mission. We got thrown back to 1878, I got messed up pretty bad, and he saved my life. That’s the super-short version.” Hal began to rummage through the fridge, piling some turkey bacon and a carton of Egg Beaters on the counter. “Our second meeting was five years ago, just a few days after my rebirth. A lab explosion threw me forward this time, to the year 2050, and to my surprise, I found Hex there as well. Seems some future despot with a time machine had grabbed him months before, but he’d escaped and was struggling to deal with that crazy world.” Cookware clattered as Hal now dug a couple of frying pans out of the cupboard. “That time around, I saved him, and in the end, we
both found our way back to our respective eras.”

“And now he’s been...what, tossed forward again and into your lap?” Carol leaned against the counter. “That doesn’t really explain the ring, though.”

Hal had been pouring the Egg Beaters into one of the pans, and he paused to look at her. “I did mention Hex was originally from the late-1800s, right? As in, he was alive back then?”

“You mean...wait a minute, this can’t be right.” Carol’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying he died a hundred-odd years ago, got resurrected last week as a Black Lantern, then came back to life...how? The Entity only brought back twelve people, and he wasn’t one of them.”

“The Entity only let us know about twelve people. Hex is like some kind of a side project. The way he tells it, that black ring on his finger got cut off from Nekron’s commands and became sentient, so the Entity picked him of all people to safeguard it and teach it about life. Something about Hex understanding the balance between life and death better than anyone else.”

“So...I guess he’s part of our team now?”

“Absolutely not.” He poked at the bacon with a spatula. “If the idea is for Hex to keep that ring safe, then having him tag along with us is the exact opposite idea. We both agreed that the best thing is for him to keep a low profile. I do want to take him out for a while today,
though, and give him a crash course in ring-slinging.”

“And then what? Is he supposed to hide in this apartment while you and I go off hunting emotional entities? That doesn’t seem too fair to him, especially if he’s been dead for as long as you’re implying. I would imagine he’d like to get out and see what’s new in the world.”

“You don’t know Jonah like I do. He’s not the sociable type.” Nodding towards the living room, Hal said, “If you look on the coffee table, you’ll see a book I picked up not long after my last run-in with him. It’ll give you a better idea of the sort of guy he is.”

Carol got the book and brought it back into the kitchen. “I can’t believe this,” she said, looking at the cover, which bore a sepia-toned photograph of Hex from long ago.

“Yeah, I know. If you think that scar looks bad in the picture, you should’ve seen it in person. He’s lucky the Entity thought enough to erase it.”

“Not that,” she replied. “I can’t believe you actually own a book.”

He mock-threatened her with the spatula, saying, “I’m not above giving you ‘the Aunt Jemima treatment’, so watch it.”

Carol flipped through the book, examining pages here and there. “You’re right,” she said, “he doesn’t look like the kind of guy that’ll ease right into modern society.” She looked up at Hal. “Have you called the League about him? Maybe they could keep an eye on him until he’s better acclimated.”

“Oh yeah, Hex would love that: lock him up in JLA headquarters for a few weeks or months or however long it takes for him to adjust. Somebody would most likely end up dead by the end of that stint.”

“And leaving him here alone is a better idea?”

Hal sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Okay, I don’t know what to do with him. I got thrown a curveball and it beaned me right between the eyes. Is that what you want me to say?”

“No, I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so unwilling to ask for help. You’re acting like Jonah Hex is all your problem and yours alone. I understand you two have a history...”

“That’s just it: we have a history. Hex sought me out because he doesn’t know anyone else in this time. I’m the only person he trusts, and even that only goes so far.” He sighed again. “With Hank and Arthur and many of the others, reintegrating them back into society was easier because they’d only been gone a few years. They still had friends and loved ones around. Who does Hex have? Me. That’s it. I know from experience how hard it is to rebuild a life, even when you do have people to support you, so I’m not about to turn him over to strangers.”

“But you’re already stretched thin as it is,” Carol replied. “There has to be somebody else who can take up some of the burden.” She thought for a moment, then said, “What about contacting the Justice Society? Some of the older members have been around since the
1930s...at least Jonah might be able to relate to them better.”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Hal said, then a look of realization came to his face. “Wait a minute...God, I’m an idiot!” He shoved the spatula at Carol, saying, “Keep an eye on breakfast, I’ve got some calls to make.”



The entire bathroom was filling with steam by the time Jonah got the water how he wanted it. Bathtubs were more common than showers in his time, but he’d seen them before, so it didn’t take long for him to get the whole works going. Normally, he loathed bathing, but once the pulsating stream of water hit his body, he stood beneath it for a few minutes, reveling in how good it felt -- just because the concept of a massaging shower head was foreign to him didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the results. When it came time to find something to clean up with, however, he began to winkle his nose in distaste: there was nary a bar of soap in sight, and all the bottles in the shower were filled with strong-smelling gunk. Picking the one that offended him the least, Jonah squeezed the contents of the bottle into his hand and lathered up, thinking,
Why anybody would want tuh smell like this is beyond me. Thankfully, the stink lessened once he rinsed off and exited the shower, but another surprise came when he grabbed a towel and realized that had a flowery smell also. Christ, do they dump perfume on everything these days?

[Rage?]

“Whut’re yuh goin’ on about?” He stopped drying off and looked at the ring. “Ah know yuh kin talk in normal sentences, Ah’ve hard yuh do it afore. So quit this one-word stuff.”

Silence at first, though Jonah could feel the ring was struggling with something. Then it spat out [JonahHexofEarthisatpeace] in one quick burst, followed by a meek [Fear...avarice].

“Yuh cain’t say any more than thet, but yuh want tuh. Is thet it?”

[Hope! Compassion!] The words came out bright and cheery.

“Reckon we’ll have tuh work on it. Least yuh kin understand whut Ah’m sayin’.” He finished drying off, pausing occasionally to look at himself...or rather, to look at places on himself that used to bear scars. He’d been doing that in the shower as well, and he imagined it
would be a good long while before he got used to seeing smooth, unblemished skin where there had once been bullet holes or burn marks. Jonah had already acquired a habit of touching the right side of his face whenever he woke up, for in his dreams, that particular scar lingered on, and he had to constantly remind himself it no longer existed. That was something from his old life he was glad to be rid of.

As he bent over to pick up his jeans off of the floor, Jonah felt something cool begin to slide over his skin. “We’re doin this again, eh?” he said, looking at the black bodysuit that was forming around him -- the ring had whisked it away as he’d removed his clothing earlier. It reminded Jonah of the one that Green Lantern wore, but this didn’t cover his feet or hands, instead ending just above his ankles and wrists respectively. “Still don’t see the dif’rence
between this an’ regular longjohns,” Jonah muttered, “but if’n yuh think it’s better...” He put on his clothes right over the bodysuit, for he harbored no intentions of running about in his underwear like so many others appeared to be doing these days.

The mouth-watering smell of breakfast greeted Jonah as he opened the bathroom door. Walking through the living room, he passed Hal, who was talking on the telephone to someone--when he saw Jonah, he immediately lowered his voice. It struck Jonah as odd, but he was more interested in food at the moment, so he kept on going into the kitchen, where he saw Carol pouring a cup of coffee. “Be much obliged if’n yuh poured me one as well,” he said.

“You can take this one...hasn’t been touched.” She slid the cup over and began filling another for herself. “You need some sugar or anything?”

“No, ma’am.” He took a sip, then made a face. “This don’t taste right.”

“It’s decaf,” she answered. “You probably have no idea what that is, do you?”

“Aside from awful, no.” Jonah glanced around the kitchen, saying, “Where’s thet sugar? Maybe it’ll help cover up the taste.”

Carol grabbed a cylindrical container next to the coffee machine and began to measure out a spoonful. “It’s not that bad once you get used to it. It’s better for you, too.”

“Ah’m alive again after bein’ dead fer a hunnert years. Hard tuh get much better’n thet.” He held out the cup so she could stir it in, took another sip, then held it out again so she could put in more. “Reckon Hal filled yuh in on me, right?”

“The broad strokes.” She smiled as she added a double helping. “Welcome to the 21st Century, home of decaf coffee and artificial sweeteners.” She tapped the spoon on the lip of the cup. “Give that a shot. It’s how I take mine.”

“Better,” he said after sampling it. “Thank yuh kindly, ma’am.”

“You can call me Carol...or Ms. Ferris, if it makes you more comfortable.”

“It does.” Jonah cocked his head slightly, saying under his breath, “Whut now? Whut are yuh...” He then turned to Carol. “Ah think it’s tryin’ tuh say it likes yuh.”

“What likes me?” she asked before taking a drink of her own coffee.

“The ring.” He held up his left hand and explained, “It ain’t got a firm grasp of English yet, so thet’s why it keeps sayin’ ‘love’ an’ ‘hope’ over an’ over.”

“I can’t hear anything.”

“Yuh cain’t?”

“No, sorry.” She went to the stove to check on the food. “It’s not all that surprising: the rings are telepathic to a degree, that’s how they can make constructs from our thoughts.” She turned off the burners, then said, “I suppose yours only talks directly into your mind.”

“This explains a lot.” Jonah slumped against the counter, staring into his coffee cup. “The dang thing was talkin’ tuh me even while Ah was asleep.”

Carol suppressed a laugh. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve had a conversation or two with my own ring. I know it must be strange to you right now, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Like decaf coffee,” he muttered, then a new thought came to him. “How many people are walkin’ around with fancy rings, anyhow? Ah’ve only been alive a week, an’ Ah already know ‘bout four of ‘em, countin’ muhself.”

“You want on Earth, or the whole universe?” Hal asked, coming into the kitchen to place the phone back in its charger.

“Forget it, Ah think the number might be too big fer muh brain,” Jonah answered.

Carol had begun to split the bacon and eggs between two plates, and Hal came over to finish up. “Everything good?” she asked him.

“Perfect. Thanks for the suggestion.” He gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Whut’s goin’ on?” Jonah asked. “Ah’m referrin’ tuh the conversation, not the kissin’.”

“You’ll find out later. First, let’s eat.” Hal laid the plates and silverware on the small table in the dining alcove. Jonah settled into a chair and dug right in, while Hal turned to Carol and asked, “You want me to fry up some more for you?”

“I’m not hungry. Besides, I’ve got places to be.” She set her mug upon the counter, saying, “Which is what I wanted to meet you about this morning, but you never showed.”

“And again, I’m sorry, so just tell me now.”

“I picked up the trail of one of the entities,” Carol said. “The Predator’s in Las Vegas.”

“Great.” Hal’s ring began to spark to life. “We’ll fly out there and...”

“No, I’ll fly out there. You’ve got other things to take care of, remember? And I don’t just mean Hex.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I was already planning on taking this solo. I just wanted to touch base with you, see if you’d had any more leads of your own.”

Hal frowned. “I don’t like this. The Predator’s played with your head before. You might need me if he tries anything like that again.”

“I’m not some damsel in distress anymore, Hal. I can take care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you were, I just...” His expression softened. “Promise me you’ll be careful, and that you’ll call if you need backup. That’s all I ask.”

“I promise.” She started to walk out of the kitchen, pausing a moment next to Jonah. “Love and hope,” she told him, smiling.

“Yuh ain’t so bad yerself,” he replied, a ghost of a smile playing across his own features.

Hal watched this exchange with puzzlement. After Carol left the apartment, he asked Jonah, “Mind telling me what that was about?”

“Me an’ yer girlfriend spent some time gettin’ acquainted.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Thet ain’t the way it looks from here.”

“Okay, we used to be an item, but not anymore.” Hal sat down at the table. “We’re just friends now.”

“Uh-huh.” Then Jonah said under his breath, “The man’s in denial. Leave him be.”

Hal wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that was about.



After eating, Hal donned his Green Lantern uniform and flew southeast with Jonah to the arid plains of Arizona. He’d explained about wanting to give the gunfighter a few pointers, and it seemed best to do it in a relatively isolated area. “Not to say that you don’t know how to fight,” Hal said as they landed, “but this is a new weapon for you, one that can do a lot more than generate bullets for your guns.”

“Ah know about thet whole ‘construct’ business, if’n thet’s whut yuh mean.” Jonah held out his hand and, after a moment, a tomahawk crafted from dark matter appeared in it. He tossed the newly-fashioned weapon into the air and caught it, saying, “See? Easy as pie.”

“Okay, but what if someone was throwing that at you? Can you make a shield?” Hal stepped back until he was about twenty feet away. “Come on, throw it right at my head.” Jonah did as Hal asked, throwing the tomahawk with all his might. It sailed through the air, only to collide with a wall of emerald light that appeared out of nowhere. “This is the sort of thing I’m talking about,” the Green Lantern told him. “You no longer have to depend merely on what’s at
hand. Weapons, equipment, transportation, even simple things like ducking for cover during a firefight...the ring provides you with limitless possibilities.”

“An’ thet’s the purpose of this little trip? Seein’ how fast Ah kin figure it out?”

“Exactly. We’re going to spar a bit. Nothing dangerous, just some knocking about...and no guns, either. Show me how creative you are.” Hal took to the air, then stopped about twelve feet up when he realized Jonah was still on the ground. “Hmm...suppose I should give you a flying lesson first.”

“Nothin’ doin’. Ah’m keepin’ both feet on the ground. Yuh won’t see me limpin’ around in the air like a ruptured duck.”

“See, this is what I was afraid of: you’re limiting yourself to what you know from the past. That’s just idiotic.” He dipped down a few feet and held out his hand, saying, “We’ll start out in tandem, then once you’re comfortable...”

Jonah grabbed Hal’s hand and pulled hard, dropping himself to the ground as he did so. Taken unawares, Hal crashed to the desert floor, and the gunfighter soon had him pinned. “How’s thet fer creative?” Jonah asked with a grin.

Hal answered by making a giant green hand to push Jonah off of him, then tightened that hand into a fist to hold him in place. “You’re still thinking old-school,” Hal said. “The ring allows you to operate at a distance with just as much finesse. Instead of physically pulling me
out of the air, you could have easily used the ring to grab and hold me, just like this.”

“Fine, Ah get yer point,” Jonah growled. “Now let me outta this so’s Ah kin make a fist of muh own an’ belt yuh with it.”

“No way, poozer. You’re going to have to think of a way out of this.”

Jonah didn’t know what “poozer” meant, but it sounded like an insult. Growling again, he tried to pry apart the “fingers” holding him, but it was no use, his arms are pinned against his sides. Think of something, dammit! he silently yelled at himself. Make a crowbar, or...

[Will!] the ring cried out. [Will will will!] As it spoke, Jonah felt the black bodysuit wrap tighter around him, the dark matter seeping directly into his limbs to bolster his strength.
So thet’s the idea behind this, he thought. It ain’t longjohns, it’s yer way of protectin’ me. He flexed his arms, and this time, the construct holding him began to loosen its grip. Keep it comin’, son...a little further... Jonah could feel his body reverting to a dead state from all the dark matter being dumped into his system, yet still he wasn’t completely free of the construct. He let out a
howl of pain and frustration as a pulse of dark matter erupted from within himself, ripping the construct apart. Then he collapsed on the ground as his body slowly returned to normal.

“My God, Hex, are you all right?” Hal said, running over to him. “I didn’t expect...”

Jonah made a fist with his ring hand and jabbed it in Hal’s direction. As he did so, a steam train composed of dark matter sprang into being, its whistle blaring angrily as it chugged straight at the Green Lantern. Hal managed to dodge it, but only by inches, and his proximity to it allowed Hal to see how intricately detailed the construct was before it dissipated. “There, Ah made something,” Jonah gasped, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “Happy now?”

“Actually, yeah...not to say that I enjoyed having a train thrown at me.”

“Yuh riled me up. Do it again, an’ Ah’ll toss in the boxcars an’ caboose, too.”

“How could I rile you up? What happened to ‘being at peace’?”

Jonah looked up at him. “Yuh ever shake up a compass?” When Hal didn’t answer right away, he elaborated, “It’s a thing thet looks like a pocket watch, tells yuh which way’s north.”

“I know what a compass is. What’s your point?”

“When yuh shake one up, the needle spins around all crazy fer a while, then it starts tuh settle down ‘til it’s pointin’ north again, straight an’ true. Thet’s whut bein’ at peace is like: when something comes along an’ shakes yuh up emotionally, there’s still a part of yuh thet stays in balance, an’ when things calm down, it pulls yuh back in line with it.” Jonah held up a finger and wiggled it back and forth, saying, “Muh needle’s just ‘bout back tuh true north again, so now Ah ain’t got no desire tuh throw a train at yuh. Five minutes ago was a dif’rent story.”

“And that was you getting angry, not the ring? Or was it both of you?”

“Tell the truth, it kept yellin’ ‘compassion’ at me, like it was tryin’ tuh talk me out of it. But Ah’m the one in charge, so Ah made the decision.” Hex stood up and knocked dirt off of his trousers. “So...yuh up fer a second round?”

“Forget it, I don’t want you chucking anything else at me. How about you just follow my lead, and try to replicate what I come up with? We’ll start with something simple...”

The two men spent the next hour producing one construct after another of varying shapes and sizes. Hal was amazed at Jonah’s eye for detail, though the Green Lantern did find one blind spot: when it came to many of the contraptions invented after Jonah’s death, the man had difficulty replicating them. If Hal made a construct of the object first, Jonah could produce a rough copy, but with no frame of reference in front of him, the gunfighter quickly became lost. Even something like an automobile -- of which Jonah had seen more than his fair share over the past week -- came out looking more like a box with four wheels stuck on it than a real vehicle. After his eighth failed attempt, Jonah bent over, put his hands on his knees, and groaned, “Thet’s it...gotta rest a spell...recharge.”

“How can you recharge?” Hal asked. “You don’t have a lantern.” He was then struck by an appalling thought. “That ring’s not asking you to kill people now, is it?”

“The Hell’s wrong with yuh? Of course it ain’t!” Jonah tapped a finger against his breastbone. “Everything it needs, it draws from right here. All this constructin’ has just overtaxed me, is all. Ain’t used tuh this kind of exertion yet.”

“In that case, maybe you should stick with only generating bullets, or at least limit how much energy you use at one time.” Hal fell silent for a moment, then said, “I don’t know about you, but this idea of the ring drawing power from within you instead of an external source worries me. What would happen if it tried to draw too much?”

“Don’t know. Reckon thet’s something we’ll have tuh work on along with everything else.” Jonah straightened up, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly. “Okay, Ah’m feelin’ better now. Whut do yuh want me tuh whip up now?”

“I think we’ve gone over just about everything possible. You’ve got the basics down cold, which is remarkable considering how short a time you’ve had the ring. There’s just one thing you haven’t done yet.” Hal took to the air once more, then looked down at Jonah. “You
may not like the idea, but I want you to try it, just so I can see how you handle yourself.”

“Ah told yuh afore, Ah ain’t doin’ it. No way, no how, an’ thet’s final.”

“Remember that phone call I made this morning? If you want to find out what it was about, then you’re gonna have to fly, because I’m not carrying you anymore.” With that, Hal turned in midair and flew off. It was a mean thing to do, but he knew how stubborn Hex could
be -- goading the man like this was sometimes the only way to get results. Hal started off slow in order to give Jonah time to get airborne, and when he looked back, what he saw took him by surprise: instead of flying, the gunfighter was riding a dark-matter horse, galloping along effortlessly at speeds no living horse could ever match.

As he overtook Hal, Jonah looked over his shoulder at him and shouted, “Ah wasn’t fond of yuh carryin’ me, anyhow.”

Hal shook his head, then poured on some more speed in order to lead the way.



The duo soon came upon a ranch nestled in a secluded valley, with mesas looming in the distance. The main house was a sprawling adobe building, gleaming white in the midday sun. A wrought-iron archway marked the road leading up to the house, and as Jonah passed beneath the arch, he noticed the outline of a guitar had been worked into its design.

“Well? What do you think?” Hal asked, setting down onto the road beside Jonah.

“Real nice,” he replied. “Whut’re we doin’ here? Sight-seein’?”

“Not exactly. Come on.” Hal began to walk towards the house, his Green Lantern uniform transforming back into civilian garb as he did so. Jonah dismounted, then let the dark matter making up his steed flow back into the ring before following. When they got within sight
of the front door, a slim woman in her mid-40s stepped out onto the portico and waved to them.

“Hello! You must be Hal Jordan,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Helen, Greg’s wife. He should be along in a moment.” Then she turned to Jonah. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Hex. I have to say, the pictures Greg showed me don’t do you any justice.”

“Ma’am?” Jonah had taken off his hat out of politeness, but now he found himself clutching it to his chest with a slight amount of fear and confusion. Who was this woman, and what was she talking about? Then the front door opened again, and the sight of the man who came out just added to his confusion, especially when he trotted right up and threw his arms around the gunfighter, laughing all the while.

“Hex, you crazy ol’ sonovagun!” the man said. “By God, just look at you! Dead a hundred years, and you come back with a face like one of those Abercrombie & Fitch models! How’d you get so lucky?”

Jonah glanced over at Hal and the woman, neither of whom seemed very forthcoming with information, so he blurted out, “Pardon muh sayin’ so, but who the Hell are yuh?”

The man looked genuinely shocked. “You don’t remember? I know I look a mite younger myself, but...hold on a sec.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a red bandana, and held it over his face so it covered his nose and mouth. “How ‘bout now? Ring any bells?”

All the color drained out of Jonah’s face. “Saunders? But thet’s...yuh cain’t be...”

The man sometimes known as the Vigilante dropped the bandana and grinned like a little kid. “Guess you don’t remember me tellin’ you ‘bout how I was really from the future.”

“Kinda.” He paused for a moment, thinking hard. “We got drunk one night an’ swapped time-travelin’ stories, didn’t we?”

“That’s right. And just like you, I finally found my way back home. Good thing for you, too, seein’ as how you need somebody to help you get acclimated to this time period.” Greg clapped Jonah on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry. Me and Helen talked it over, and you’re
welcome to stay here at Casa de Saunders for as long as you like.”

“This is whut yer telephone call was about?” Jonah asked Hal. “Yuh was tryin’ tuh find someone tuh take me in?”

“Not initially,” Hal replied. “I thought perhaps Greg could come up to Coast City for a while, but he suggested you come down here instead since he has such a big place. It does make more sense: I’m sometimes off-planet for days or weeks at a time. If an emergency cropped up, I’d be too far out of reach.”

Greg added, “Besides, you ain’t exactly the city-dwellin’ type. Down here’s gonna be more your speed. Fresh air, lots of open spaces. It’ll help you ease into this new century.”

“Ah reckon yo’re right, but Ah just...” Jonah looked over at Helen. “It don’t seem proper, imposin’ on yer home like this. Yuh don’t even know me.”

“Greg knows you, so that’s good enough for me,” she said, “although I hope he exaggerated how bad your temper is.”

“Ah’ve calmed down a touch.”

“Then it’s settled. Now...” Greg jerked a thumb towards the house. “You ready for the other surprise?”

Jonah was wary of what it might be, but he did his best to relax as Greg and his wife led the way into the house, Hal walking beside him. They passed through the living room and down the hall until they reached Greg’s study. The spacious room was decorated with mementos from his life -- both as a musician and masked hero -- with an oak bar and pool table set up on one side of the room. Across from there sat two men in plush leather chairs, one of whom stood when Greg and the others entered. “Welcome back, Hex,” the man said, walking up to shake his hand. “I’ll admit, I was surprised to hear that you’d turned up alive and well, but then again, you
always were good at cheating death.”

As when he first saw Greg, Jonah couldn’t fathom who this person was. He stared at the man’s weathered face and short white hair, but nothing came to mind. Jonah then peeked around him at the other man, who’d remained seated. That gentleman was of an indeterminate age, his most striking feature being his tailored black clothes -- admittedly, the eagle-headed cane leaning next to his chair made Jonah think of Quentin Turnbull, but that was most certainly not who he was looking at. The gentleman must’ve caught Jonah’s bewildered expression, for he said in a British accent, “Not to quash the festivities, but I believe some reintroductions may be in order.”

Jonah nodded, saying quietly, “Ah’ve got these blank spots in muh memory. Don’t really notice ‘em ‘til things like this come up. Ah’m sorry.”

The white-haired man’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you just apologize for something? Are you sure you’re really Jonah Hex?” In a gentler tone, he continued, “It’s okay, you’ve been gone a long time. You used to know me as Windrunner, but I go by Max Mercury these days. We only had a few run-ins -- pardon the pun -- so it’s understandable if I slipped your mind.”

“The name’s vaguely familiar, but thet’s about it. Maybe something will come tuh me later.” Jonah began to approach the gentleman in the chair, then stopped as he got a sense of apprehension from the ring. “Ah don’t know who yuh are, but something ain’t right about yuh.”

“An observation many others have made over the years,” he replied with a sly smile. “Both now and in times past, I’m known as the Shade. We met once, and briefly, when you came to Opal City to visit our mutual friend Brian Savage.” The shadows around the man
seemed to stir of their own volition as he said, “He returned to us for a while as well, not so long ago, before departing again.”

Incredulous, Jonah asked, “How many others from back then are still alive?”

Greg answered, “That knew you personally? Just two more...least that’s all we could think of. I tried to get a hold of Carter and Shiera -- you knew ‘em as Nighthawk and Cinnamon, Hex -- but they weren’t picking up the phone. I think those lovebirds are still too busy nesting. We’ll arrange a visit with them as soon as we can.”

The gunfighter’s gaze went from one person to the next as he tried to take it all in. He’d spent the past week resigning himself to the notion that everything from his past was gone, unreachable, and now, in the space of a few minutes, he’d learned that wasn’t completely true. He had friends, this Jonah Hex. Ones that were willing to open their home to him in a time of need. Ones that didn’t care about his mind wiping out nearly every trace of them. Considering how many decades Jonah had spent pushing away anyone who tried to get close to him, he found it remarkable that they could look past his previous attitude and welcome him with open arms.

“You doing okay, Jonah?” Hal asked. “Did your compass get shook up again?”

“Ah think the needle done broke off this time.” He then said with a grin, “Reckon maybe it’ll settle back into place once Saunders gets his lazy ass behind thet bar an’ pours me a drink.”

“That’s the Jonah Hex I know!” Max said with a laugh, and the others soon joined in, Jonah included. It wasn’t long before they all took seats around the study and began to reminisce about the old days, as well as filling Jonah in on what he’d missed during the interim.

After a while, the black ring -- which had been rather quiet since their arrival at the Saunders ranch -- decided to chime in with its opinion of their new situation: [Hope].

Jonah couldn’t have agreed more.

NEXT ISSUE: We learn why “Old Soldiers Never Die”!

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