by Travis Pasch
CHAPTER NINE
Happiness and Revenge
The air from the train pushes the hero's hair back as he leans his head out of the window. He's been hoping to get a ride on this train for quite some time and this seems the perfect opportunity. Unfortunately he isn't here purely for pleasure. He recently accepted a contract on the three Rouwling boys, a contract much too large for a single man, but he savors the challenge. He tracked the first of the three brothers to this train. He plans on taking out the family publicly and he knows the man won't be able to resist the offer to kill a bounty hunter. He intends on killing the nastiest and oldest of the brothers first. The eldest Rouwling boy's self-assurance is almost comical. The hero hopes that using the man's pride against him will be an easy way to trap him, maybe too easy. He pulls his head back inside the train window and makes his way to the back where he suspects Rouwling is staying. He's marginally surprised they would let a known criminal ride, but then again, on a train this large, there are bound to be one or two questionable passengers.
He enters the next compartment, leaving the cushy seat he bought for himself. The height of the rail car is barely above a man's head; it isn't much wider either, but each car is very long, perfect for a duel. He moves fast with the anticipation of the upcoming confrontation. His heart races and his blood circulates at light speed, he's never sure he'll be victorious and the fear of death mixes with the excitement to create a feeling unmatched by any other.
When he makes it to the third car his mark sticks out immediately. The beat of his heart is so violent he thinks it might fly straight through his chest. He points at the man and yells,
"You! Are you too much of a coward to face me?" He notices just how large a network of scars the man's face bears, the destroyed attire he sports matches his face yet betrays the wealth of his family. The man's entire body perks up at the sound of a challenge. The hero keeps his posture straight and his eyes on his mark.
"You think you can best me?" the outlaw laughs and throws down his cigarette. He tells the crowd to move. People don't leave the car completely but they move to the sides of the small area obediently. The two men stand as far apart from each other as possible with their legs shoulder width apart and their hands near their guns. "Since you laid the challenge I get to choose the weapons right?" Rouwling asks with a grin.
"I guess," the hero says, not liking the man's smile.
"Got a knife on ya?" the outlaw asks, his disgusting smile is stuck on his face. A giant straight bladed knife emerges from somewhere deep in his overcoat.
"Of course," the hero says and pulls his small knife, which also doubles as his dinner knife, out of his cowboy boots. If he survives this man he'll have to get a new one. In such a narrow space he'll have to be quick and vicious. With a yell the outlaw charges. The hero stands his ground until the last possible second as Rouwlings's knife comes slashing toward his unprotected face, he sidesteps the swing and grabs the man's wrist with his left hand then slices it with his own small blade. Reflexes kick in and the man drops his giant knife. The hero doesn't hesitate and with near impossible speed he slams his weapon into the man's scarred throat.
Blood starts to seep through the thick leather of the hero's boots. He revels in the warm liquid, gathering his breath before picking up the now-dead outlaw.
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The sleep-filled weeks have given Zale more material for his book than he could have hoped for or expected. Three weeks have gone by in the real world but inside his mind he's become an old soul. He wonders if he woke up for anything other than the bathroom visits and two dates with Azelia. The rash of excitement and dreams hasn't bothered him at all, he actually has a small chance to finish his book with the way things are going. Despite all the sleep he still spends every second exhausted, and the two other dates with Azelia drained him. The attention from another human being has served him well, it's kept his brain from a total breakdown, and let him dream peacefully. He tries to drift back to the life of his hero when a realization brings him back to reality: he promised Azelia a date today. He called her almost in a daze last week, he can't back out and lose his tether to reality. He owes her after all, if it weren't for her he wouldn't have been so productive these last few weeks. He pulls out his phone to call her.
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Azelia's been channeling her inner child today, giddy with excitement over the prospect of another date with Zale. Three weeks had flown by since their first one and the two intermittent affairs seemed but happy dreams; her wandering from campsite to campsite and the endless grind of her life made everyday run into the next. She was honestly getting nervous he wouldn't call this week, a paranoia regarding her performance on the last date started to creep up, slithering into existence, but her patience paid off and banished the thoughts. Ever since his call her entire week has been filled with thoughts of love and glory. She feels so dumb to let her imagination run rampant over a new flame, but this is her first interest since Clint, and she can't help herself. Despite her best attempts to keep Zale out of her mind, he keeps pervading her thoughts. Every part of her is already yearning for his touch, nothing about him is similar to Clint, a fact she cherishes.
The vibration in her pocket nearly sends her lunch through her carefully colored lips. She holds onto it with all her might.
"Hello?" she asks with all the sweetness she can muster.
"Hey, what's goin' on?" Zale asks, she thinks he may be attempting to sound cool, but she doubts it.
"Nuthin', just waitin' for tonight."
"Cool, I was just calling to make sure we're still on," he says. He breaks the long ensuing moment of silence with, "seven-thirty still work?"
"Of course, I'm free all day, so if you wanna' meet earlier that's fine with me."
"Sorry, I wish, I got a stupid meeting at six."
"No problem, see you at seven thirty then."
"See ya," he echoes. She can't remember a time when five hours passed so slowly.
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The desert isn't exciting to say the least, but all they did on their first date was walk around and it was one of the most fun dates Zale had ever had. The usual night scene has never held an ounce of pleasure for him, despite his many efforts to revel in it. The weeks had flown by, well, he slept them away, but now only ten small minutes stand between him and Azelia. The bright lights of the city basically kill the blackness of the night, to his great dismay because there's nothing he loves more than the radiant stars. He can't wait for the clearness of the desert and the clarity it brings him.
Through an unbelievable stroke of luck he arrives early. He realizes with excitement, after surveying the parking lot, he even beat Azelia here. Ten minutes is possibly the earliest he's been to anything in his life. His mind drifts to the implausible good fortune of his current situation. Before he can sink too deeply into the quandary of his recent serendipity, a knock on his passenger door brings him back to attention.
"Get in here," he says, smiling to Azelia.
"Where we goin'?" she asks, jumping gingerly into his car.
"Nowhere special."
"And that is...?" she asks skeptical of his decision.
"The desert... it's my favorite place to go see the stars and relax," he spouts and lurches his wagon forward.
"Hmm, I can get behind that idea," she tells him and grabs his absent right hand, his heart jumps along with his skin. Her hand tries it's best to bind to his. He's suddenly aware, and self-conscious, of his nervous sweating; she doesn't seem to mind. After such a long stint of sleep and isolation the touch of another human being downright scares him, he needs to re-acclimate before he ruins everything.
"Nervous?" she probes, he pulls his hand away and tries to play it off with a cough. She doesn't care and grabs it once again. The rest of the short ride somehow manages to resemble a normal conversation. Despite his distinctly boring conversation she's been giggling the entire way. His favorite spot is already presenting itself, not soon en
ough though, he needs the fresh air to stop sweating. His nerves pitch from high to low dependent on her closeness to him. Before he can turn into an unmanageable mess they reach the desert and set up shop with a quilted blanket his grandmother made for him a long time ago.
The hours pass easily; conversation with her flows smoothly. She's much too interesting for him, but then again, so is almost everyone, but he'll let the rouse continue for now. All said and done he's still sleeping alone in his car tonight, but she promised him another date. Things are really looking up for Zale, he prays the pendulum swing won't be too vicious.
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No matter what thought pops up next in Azelia's distracted brain it proceeds to be a blissful one. The date with Zale had been near perfection, just the type of thing she needed. All the anxiety from Clint has been making her thoughts turn darker and darker, but tonight was a ray of sunshine in her mind, a source of vitamin D for her soul. She rolls over to her side and nothing but the muted orange of her tent accosts her, she knows she should sleep but tries with her fading resolve to keep her eyes open.
The desert was disappointing at first but the seclusion with him proved better than any amount of excitement. He drove so deep into the nothingness even Clint couldn't find them among the endless sand. The blackness of night was punctuated with the beauty of the stars, maybe the universe is finally turning in her favor.
She struggles to think of Zale again as her eyes finally close. Regrettably her thoughts drift back to Clint, why must her happiness be so short lived? Her heart fears what he may be capable of if he truly goes insane. With mixed thoughts abounding she feels the small images of sleep form on the back of her eyelids and invites them wholeheartedly.
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Jade has three bodies propped up against the edge of the railroad track. Tonight was a successful freestyle hunt, the three men were together and she dispatched them easier than her morning coffee. They were raping a woman in a rancid, back alley; they weren't her initial targets for the night but their crimes were more than fitting of her talents. The sound of a distant horn brings up her old dream of wanting to ride the train across the country, she's never made the time but vows to soon, at least she's close enough to the tracks to smash herself a penny.
The sight of the heavy looking dead men makes her sigh, just thinking about how big of a hole she's going to have to dig is making her tired, at least she came prepared. She pushes her spade shovel, using her feet for leverage, into the loose desert ground around the train tracks. A passing train would cause her unnecessary trouble tonight. She digs as fast as she can and the ground gives way easier than she imagined it would, saving her back serious strain. The sadness with which these pitiful men had begged for their unworthy lives almost made her laugh.
If only the law could see things as righteously as she does she wouldn't have to ward off the constant fear of capture. After about an hour of digging the hole looks big enough for the three of them, it will be a shallow grave but she's tired and doesn't feel the urge to keep digging, she doesn't care if they surface in a year or two. She rolls the limp bodies into the hole, not an easy task considering they all outweigh her. As she pushes them into the shallow hole her arms and hands become slicked in blood. Finally done with her task, she takes a minute to rest and wipe her sweat and the men's intermingled blood off of her dirty body. Now all she has to do is put the dirt back over them, get home, and try to nab a few hours of sleep.
Lying in her bed, staring at a dark ceiling covered in only a sheet, she can hardly think, she's so tired from the day's events. On top of the exhaustion is the built up fatigue from the past three weeks; she's only been sleeping a couple of hours every night. Her late night escapades have been taking the place of her life. None of that matters to her though, she's never felt so fulfilled and alive. She has always idolized people who do whatever they want and take justice into their own hands, and now she's joined their ranks. How is the law's perception of justice any truer than her own? As her eyes close for the night she thinks about how unfulfilling most people's lives must be. After what seems like an eternity her mind relents to fatigue for the short few hours remaining before she has to be at work. Unfortunately she starts to dream, forcing her into a restless daze.
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Clint moves slowly through the grass, his skin is so covered in sweat it drips down into his eyes, turning them pure red; despite the pain he hasn't blinked for eons. The bright sun throws its rays onto his face, another pain he ignores, as he failingly tries to work his mind into thinking something useful. He's been sitting out here since yesterday, he's still been unable to come to terms with his utter loss of Azelia a few months ago. He tries, unsuccessfully, to go on about his life in a sane manner. Yesterday he almost lost himself to madness. In response he went to the only place he truly likes to go, a meadow deep within the local forest, a place not even the homeless people seem to know about; it feels like his personal meditation grounds.
The worst part of this whole debacle is the fact that he can see the idiocy of his actions unfolding, he can see the downfall of his every word and the ridiculous pedestal upon which he's placing a love long gone sour. His rationale struggles against his emotions, he was raised to never give up, a trait that's backfiring into his exposed face. Despite his natural inclinations he had left the entirety of his old life to come here and start a new one with her. For whatever reason he can't seem to reverse the trend and return to his old life of normality and happiness. When they moved here she turned on him so fast he didn't even realize what was happening. He was never anything but loyal, supportive, and nice to her, she repaid his kindness with betrayal. Now his life is wasting into a dull whirlwind of nothingness surrounded by a tornado of failure, and he can't stop the torrent or think of anything he can, or should, do with himself. Seven years of his life are as meaningful as dust pulled through a fan.
His mind wrestles with the future, he can either leave and admit defeat or he can come up with a truly genius plan for revenge and implement it. Maybe he can plant drugs on that other guy and get him arrested, ideally while on a date with Azelia. Maybe getting him thrown in jail would be enough for his revenge. Another thought pops into his head, maybe he could kill him and frame the death on her, something like a weird crime of passion. He doesn't necessarily want to hurt her but if that's what it takes...
His options seem bleak, he realizes it would be easiest just to leave and start another life, but something about retreat doesn't seem right to him. He blinks for the first time in a long time and smiles.