by Shawn Mackey
“You'll be last,” the tall man said, snapping his fingers.
His people instantly overwhelmed us. It wasn't even two to one, yet they effortlessly tossed each man to the ground and subdued them. I feigned weakness for the time being. I sensed a powerful presence in the distance, headed in our direction. I saw no point in acting until the dreamer was at least close.
The tall man walked to the jeep and reached under one of the seats. He returned with a brown canteen, popped the cap off, and then nodded to the man next to me. His captor raised him to his feet, gripping the poor man tightly under his shoulders. He made no attempt to flee as the tall man pried his jaw open and poured the canteen down his mouth. His captor let him go, cackling madly as the man clutched at his throat. He writhed on the ground for a few seconds before going still, his frozen countenance etched in agony.
The next victim showed no resistance, but he cursed his tormentors until the end. This roused the crowd into howls of laughter. The tall man shook the canteen next to his ear and smiled.
“There's enough for one more,” he said.
I was forced onto my feet, my mouth pried open like the others. Unlike them, I eagerly swallowed the water, grinning ear to ear as the last drop went down my throat. The men gloated for about a minute, mocking my brazenness. As time passed, their laughter slowly died. I was still standing.
“What's the matter?” I said, still grinning.
“That's impossible,” the tall man growled.
I was laughing uncontrollably. He drove his fist into my stomach and kicked my shin, sending me tumbling to the ground. My captor pinned me on my back and tossed the knife to his leader. The tall man clasped the hilt and raised the point inches above my chest.
“Let's see if you can survive a knife in your heart.”
“You're welcome to try,” I said. He snarled, lifting the blade high before plunging it downward.
He stopped midway. Streams of blood poured from his chest, soaking my shirt. I looked up to find a steel sword severing half his neck. When the blade was removed, a crimson jet doused everyone nearby. The tall man collapsed on his side, revealing the assailant behind him.
He wore a red robe, his face obscured by a hood. The others stood in awe for a moment, glancing at each other in confusion. I expected them to flee. Instead, they simultaneously engaged their new adversary. The mysterious newcomer slashed the belly of the nearest man, ready to plunge the tip of his blade in the next. They all paused again, and then decided to execute the prisoners.
We didn't put up much of a fight. Being ill-equipped, my comrades were immediately slaughtered. The cowards chose to kill the unarmed rather than fight against the sword-wielder who cut them to ribbons. No matter how efficient his efforts, the thugs managed to slit the throats of the townspeople before falling to his blade.
I managed to save the old man from a knife slash, only to take an elbow to the nose from his assailant for my efforts. He plunged his dagger into the belly of the old man seconds before our new ally came up from behind and separated the thug’s head from his shoulders with one sword swipe.
I came to the dying old man's aid. The hooded man sheathed his weapon and knelt by my side. As we were about to tend to his wounds, I heard a revving engine. One of our assailants sped away in a jeep. The hooded man procured a knife from his belt and tossed it. The blade struck the man in the arm, but failed to hinder his escape.
“Keep them safe,” the old man said, clutching the knife stuck in his chest. Blood oozed from the corner of his lips. “Please, keep them safe.”
“You have my oath,” the hooded man said, bowing his head.
“And mine,” I said, imitating the gesture. The old man weakly nodded just before his eyes rolled back.
“I hope you were sincere,” the man said, his eyes scanning the carnage. Not a single sign of life remained.
“This was wanton slaughter,” I said. “These people deserve justice. It's only a matter of time until that guy brings reinforcements. They'll destroy everything. I can't allow that.”
“I know this group,” he said, finally facing me with his hood drawn. His features were healthy and robust compared to the others. He was certainly the dreamer. “They're a pack of mongrels. We'll be outnumbered five to one at least. If you find those odds unfavorable, I won't stop you from leaving. I have no intentions of dying to these subhuman wretches.”
“Me neither,” I said.
“Then help me bury the dead.”
The townspeople had left their houses and approached the battle's aftermath. Without a shred of grief, they assisted us in digging graves for their deceased kin. The invaders were dumped in a large hole after being stripped of their weapons. These were distributed to the remaining men, most of who were in their late teens. I counted fourteen, including myself and my new ally.
“What's your name?” I asked him. He took a while to respond. I thought he was going to ignore me.
“Ray.”
“Nice to meet you, Ray,” I said, not bothering to extend my hand. Judging by his cold gaze and phlegmatic tone, he didn't desire my company. “What brings you here?”
“I follow the rain,” he said. “I'm immune to its poison. My duty is to protect those who aren't. Their own world has turned against them. It allows me to put my skills to proper use.”
“And you're very skillful.”
“Yes,” he said, donning his hood and turning away. He started to walk, then stopped and added: “But these skills are my own worst enemy. My hands and this sky are no different. They deal death and stain the dirt in crimson. How does one wage war on the sky? It's as laughable as crossing me in combat.”
“I admire your pride.”
“I only state the truth,” he said. “I crave death as these people crave water. Perhaps I will die in this town. It may be as good a death as any other. Better to fall to a pack of dogs than old age.”
“You won’t die here.”
“Is that so?” he said, his back still turned to me. I like to think he was smiling. “What's your name?”
“I don't have a name.”
“Is that a choice?”
“That's a difficult question,” I said. “If we survive the night, maybe I'll figure out an answer.”
After the burial, a young woman brought us cups of water. The water was murky and had no taste, but it was actual water. I gulped mine down while my companion savored his drink. The girl watched him, eyes wide with adoration. A shy smile crossed her lips as she sat cross-legged by his side. He cast his gaze away in disgust.
“I've seen you before,” she said. “I was just a little girl at the time. You couldn't have been much older than I am now. Not a boy, and not quite a man.”
“What's your business with me?” he growled.
“You saved me and my sister from a group of bandits,” she said. “My sister promised to repay the favor. I think you misunderstood her intentions. She—”
“I don't remember, and I don't care to be reminded,” he said, finishing his water.
“My sister isn't alive anymore,” the girl said. “I'll help you anyway that I can.”
“Consider the water a debt paid,” he said, handing her the empty cup. She took it with a faint smile.
“Your friend is a bit coarse,” she whispered in my ear.
“Don't take it personally,” I said. “He seems like a nice enough guy. Isn't that right, Ray?”
“There's nothing more disingenuous than a woman's gratitude,” he said.
“He's only saying that because he's got a crush on you,” I said. “Ray's blushing under that hood. Don't you think so, pal?”
“My name's Sarah,” she said. I shook her bony hand and smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah. Like I was saying, my friend has a funny way of saying thank you. He's had a long journey, and I'm sure a tall glass of water was just the thing he's been missing. And maybe a pretty lady?”
“We may die within the hour,” Ray said. “Forg
ive me for not appreciating your jokes.”
“Is that true?” Sarah asked. “Are we going to die?”
“Of course not,” I replied.
“The both of us will live,” Ray said, lifting his hood. His expression was as severe as his tone. “But you, Sarah, will die. What chance does a woman have against a pack of rabid dogs? You best start running.”
“I'm sorry,” she said, lowering her eyes and walking away.
“Your skills don't amount to much if that's how you talk to women. Isn't the goal to protect them? Show some confidence. It'll do everyone around here some good.”
“I gave her advice. Here's some for you: shut up. Follow it or I'll draw my blade.”
We continued to wait in silence. The townspeople wandered around in a daze, occasionally chattering to each other. As time passed, they showed less and less emotion. Their movements were almost robotic. When the sound of engines roared in the distance, they were barely roused from this state.
“It's time,” Ray said, rising to his feet with sword drawn.
“I thought you said it was going to be five to one. Looks more like twenty. Maybe a hundred,” I said.
An army blanketed the eastern hill. I estimated hundreds, bordering on a thousand men. Their steady march quickly turned into a charge. We would be overwhelmed in a minute. To the townspeople's credit, they didn't falter. They stood with weapons drawn, ready to face their doom. Ray sprinted toward the army with his sword held high. I followed his lead. He leaped into the fray, killing four men with a single swing. I decked one in the face, realizing my only weapons were my fists. They would suffice.
I mistook the raining blood for another storm. Ray's sword severed limbs and slashed through bone like thin air. He dealt death with every movement, whether the flick of his wrists or turn of the hip. On the other hand, I barely held my own, feeling as if I were fighting the ocean. I swung my fists to the point of exhaustion, hitting every target but doing little to curb the wave of enemies. I frequently found myself trampled or piled on.
In minutes, their numbers significantly dwindled. I fought to stand on my feet. Ray stood on a mountain of bodies, cutting down any man foolish enough to approach. The pile grew with every kill, giving him more and more of an advantage. An army of one thousand men, and not even a rock to throw.
I was heavily wounded—knife cuts and bruises from head to toe. Luckily, I shared the same sentiment as Ray. If I were to die, I would die fighting. The resolve jolted my adrenaline enough to climb the mountain of corpses. I hurled off any adversary in my path.
“You live?” Ray shouted. I stood by his side, kicking and thrashing the intruders.
“You seem surprised,” I said, crushing a man's fingers under my heel. I cut off his howling with a knee to the mouth.
“I expected as much,” he said, plunging his blade into an incoming assailant's chest. He pulled out the sword and severed another man's arm. “Now would be a good time to tell me your name.”
“You're acting like I intend to take it to my grave.”
The army fought to the last man. One of them came at me with a severed arm, nearly puncturing my throat with a broken bone. Ray cut him down as easily as the others. To take any credit for our victory would be an insult to his abilities. My bravado and blind punches served as a mere distraction.
With the last man dead, we simultaneously collapsed. I sucked in deep breaths and wiped away blood and sweat. Ray cleaned his blade and sheathed his sword, bowing his head with eyes closed. If he felt any fatigue, it quickly dissipated in his brief meditative trance. Meanwhile, I was on the verge of collapse.
After a few minutes of rest, he rose to his feet and descended the corpse mountain. I reluctantly followed, way beyond the point of utter exhaustion. He seemed to be searching for survivors.
“Check the houses,” I said. As those words left my mouth, I noticed the buildings had been razed.
We were thorough in our search, easily discerning the townspeople from the others. Most were buried submerged in mud, covered in a mass of corpses. They had been the first to die. In the midst of one of these masses, we found Sarah. She lay utterly still, almost peaceful looking in comparison to the rest of the dead.
“Damn it,” Ray hissed, falling to his knees. “Why didn't she flee? The damned hussy could have lived. Why must women be so stubborn?”
“She wanted to fight.”
“She wanted to die! Every last one of these bastards wanted to die! For what? There isn't a town left to defend.”
“There were too many of them. It isn't your fault, Ray.”
“No,” he said, procuring a dagger from his belt. He tore open his robes and pressed the point against his belly. “I've failed for the last time. My life ends by my own hands. This is the only way it can be. Take my sword and leave!”
“No.”
“This is not an attempt,” he said. “I intend to die here. If you consider yourself a man, then you'll turn your head and spare me the disgrace.”
“I'm going to watch you spill your guts all over Sarah,” I said. “If that's a problem, then kill me first. There's already been plenty of bloodshed. Why not add one more?”
“I mistook you for an honorable man,” he said, his dagger drawing a trickle of blood. “You would deny me my final wish?”
“What makes it final? Why does it have to end here? There will be other places like this, other people too weak to stand up for themselves. You'll deny them your protection? You have a responsibility. I mistook you for an honorable man as well. Drop the knife while your dignity is intact.”
“You're a bastard,” he said, letting the hilt slip between his fingers. His hands trembled, then his entire body. “I don't need to know your name. From henceforth, you're a bastard.”
“I've been called much worse,” I said, smiling in relief.
I heard a gasp, followed by several coughs. I rushed to Ray's side as Sarah's eyes shot open. They fluttered around wildly before focusing on Ray. She went limp, managing a faint smile.
“You were crying,” she said weakly, brushing her hand against Ray's cheek. He clasped her wrist tightly and kissed it. “You saved my life again. Look! You're bleeding.”
“So are you,” he said, smiling. To see his permanent frown morph into a joyful expression was shocking. He looked like a completely different person.
“Looks like I truly am a bastard,” I said. “Not only do I leave you with the burden of life, you also have hers to take care of”
“Thank you,” Ray said, cradling Sarah in his arms.
I walked away, content with the outcome. I gazed at the red sky, hoping it would linger a little longer than usual. Even in this nightmarish world, I could bask in the happiness of a new friend. From time to time, I needed these moments as a reminder. I could endure an eternity of torment, as long as fate provided me with an opportunity to ease the suffering of others.
Chapter 11:
Palaver in the Park
I found myself in an empty suburban town. The streets were deserted and devoid of sound. A gentle breeze shook a leafy branch overhead, confirming this world wasn't completely defunct. Rows of houses were abandoned but well kept, their driveways without cars, as if the people of this town decided to simultaneously leave for no reason. On the surface, I’d call it a picturesque sight.
I strolled down the sidewalk, lost in thought and enjoying the warm sun. I noted nothing unusual about the desolation, though its vividness struck me as strange. Not a single detail had been omitted in its creation, most likely a near perfect replica of the real thing. I would proudly call this town my home. Nice weather and no neighbors. What more could a man ask for?
I passed over a tiny bridge, gazing into the river below. The water was clear, but the rushing water distorted my reflection, though I was able to notice a scruffy black beard. I had been obsessed with looking at my reflection for as long as I could remember, but I suddenly realized it’d been a while since I’d seen it or sought it
out. I understood why I stopped, though: one disappointment after another.
The bridge led to a simple park consisting of a swing set, a few benches, and a basketball court. The area was wide open except for a single tree in the center. I noticed movement at the bottom of the tree. A man sat in the shade, his arms folded and head slumped to the side. As I moved closer, he appeared to be napping.
“Isn't it rude to interrupt a guy when he's trying to get some sleep?” he called out. I paused before resuming my approach. He opened his eyes and watched me move closer, then smiled and said: “I guess you can't sleep when you're already sleeping.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting across from him, right under the edge of the tree's shadow.
“This is all a dream,” he replied. “Every night, I find myself in this park. There's never anyone around. I don't mind. It's peaceful. Don't you ever have reoccurring dreams?”
“No.”
“Of course you don't,” he said, chuckling. “You're in my dream, which means you aren't real. It's strange, because you look real.”
“I am real,” I said. He laughed again.
“Can you prove it?”
“Can you prove that you're real?”
“I don't need to! This is my dream. When I wake up, I'll be in my bed. What about you?”
“I'll be in another dream,” I said. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “I move from one person’s dream to another.”
“How do you do that? Better yet, why would you? You some kind of creep?”
“It’s not by choice.”
“Why don't you just wake yourself up?”
“Because I'm not sleeping.”
“How do you know that?”
“The same reason you know you're sleeping and the same reason you know you’re alive. It might sound crazy, but I assure you I’m speaking rationally.”
“There's nothing rational about being in other people's dreams.”
“You're alive in another place. Why can’t I be alive in this one?”
“I'll believe you for the sake of decency,” he said, extending his hand. I shook it as he introduced himself: “My name's Bill. We should get to know each other, since this is my dream. You're technically intruding, whether you meant to or not.”