Traveling Merchant (Book 2): Pestilence

by Seymour, William J.

  No one says anything. Kelly can feel the tears running down her cheeks. How could she have ever doubted? The fear and pain of everything is lost behind the sadness that she ever doubted the love of God and Brother George. The others are no different. Every pair of eyes in the room glistens with moisture and shoulders shrug to ward off the sobs that cannot be stopped.

  “Now everyone, please take my hand and one more time, let us pray together.”

  Kelly is glad to feel the warmth of another in her hand. The strength of them all pulses through the connection of flesh and blood. She closes her eyes, and the darkness does not scare her. A comfort passes through and she can feel it flow through her fingertips as the prayer is recited.

  Tomorrow will be another day, and no matter what happens, the sun will still rise in the east the following morning. No matter what, she cannot forget that.

  13

  A Cowboy with a Debt

  Those eyes stare back at him. Emerald green swirling behind the darkness in dead sockets locked within the hooded confines of hatred. Merchant can still feel the three holes in his chest. He rubs at the spots with his hand as the miles of gravel and dirt pass beneath his boots. The skin of his body is marred by the scars of countless battles, but there is nothing but smooth flesh where he feels the emptiness of that touch.

  “You OK over there?” Red asks.

  Merchant shakes his head to clear the cobwebs and looks ahead where the storm is a distant memory and the angry revelation of humidity and death swats at them like a vengeful lover. What remains of the mud on the ground sucks at his boots and the bugs feast upon his flesh before falling dead.

  “Thinking,” he answers.

  “Not suddenly regretting what you’ve agreed to do are you, demon?” Snake-Eyes asks as he materializes between them.

  The mud and bugs never seem to notice his ghostly form as he shimmers in his bright white suit and empty skull. Winking, the eyes of the tattoo on his neck leer at him as he chews on a long piece of straw between his teeth and he tips an oversized cowboy hat toward Red who does not see him.

  “Thinking of what?” Red asks as she shuffles a few steps forward.

  Her walk has improved and so has the demeanor of her attitude. Like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders and found his instead, she walks with the strength of her youth.

  “What lays ahead,” Merchant says.

  “Murder, mayhem, and a whole lot of dead people. Who else are you going to force to follow in your footsteps? Though I gotta say it’s getting a little crowded in there,” Snake-Eyes says and taps on the bag over Merchant’s shoulder.

  Unable to stop himself, Merchant spares a quick glance behind and the vision of an army of faceless men and women filling the empty plane shimmers and disappears with the mid-day heat. He shakes his head to clear it once more.

  “You said this cowboy had an army with him?”

  Red plops her hand on his shoulder.

  “OK, not really an army I would say, but at least a dozen or two men. All of them well armed and definitely killers. I haven’t seen faces that hardened since the blockades of St. Louis,” Red says.

  “You were in St. Louis?”

  Merchant stops walking and forces Red to look at him.

  A mischievous look crosses her face.

  “Would it matter to you?”

  Merchant doesn’t answer or turn. He waits and the look on her face turns worried as she looks back to the east.

  “Alright, not really. I saw a lot of the leftovers as people fled in all directions. Everyone talked of the destruction there. Some even spoke of the devil himself rising up beneath the arch and destroying the entire city with a single swipe of his arm.”

  Spitting on the ground, Merchant turns back toward the path that Red used to find him.

  “There is no devil,” he grumbles.

  “Yeah,” she says, her voice less convinced.

  “If you count the devil as a single man with a bad attitude and a bag of tricks at his disposal, then yes, I would say it was the devil,” Snake-Eyes says.

  The ghost taps on the watch shining on his wrist. The arms no longer move, but the clicking of his tongue does enough.

  “What was it? On the count of three… Three, two, one… boom. No more St. Louis? And I used to love the sights from the top of that monument back before… well you know. Good place to fuck if you ask me. Screams echo like crazy in that thing and boy, having a woman spread out in front of you as you watch the world bend at your feet. Oh well. At least I still have the memory.”

  “Shut-up, you weren’t even there,” Merchant barks.

  Red stumbles away, mud splashing up to her knees as she almost falls to the ground.

  “Look, I said I wasn’t there already. Hector was one of the survivors I found. Told me many stories I didn’t believe. Haha, the fucker was deranged as it was, but you don’t need to be all pissy about it,” Red says.

  Merchant waves her off. She wouldn’t understand anyway.

  “Ghosts talk, Merchant. I wasn’t there, but those who were told me everything. They don’t forget and I’m pretty sure they want you dead as much if not more than I do. They screamed your name when they died, did you know that? Your name was the last words on their lips and I bet you can hear it at night. You’ll never make the city that reaches the sky. We won’t let you. You’re gonna die out here, Merchant,” the ghost taunts.

  Shifting the bag on his shoulder doesn’t shut the man up, but it does relieve some of the stress on his body.

  “You certain that we had until the end of today, correct Red?” Merchant asks and stops walking.

  Red moves up beside him.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure, why?”

  From this distance it is pretty hard to tell for someone with even good sight, but for him there is something else in the air. A rotten taste as death passes over the land. Mixed with the sweet and bitter twang of burning wood, he can feel the spilt blood and expended lives. They call to him as much as the crying of those he is forced to drag along on this endless trek across the world.

  “What is it, Merchant? I know we’ve got some distance left, but the day has just started, and we’ll easily reach it before sundown.”

  Red’s voice is filled with worry and it should be.

  “I think we are too late,” Merchant says and hefts the bag as high as it will go across his back.

  Beginning to jog, Red bolts ahead of him. He wants to yell at her to stop, they can’t just go running into the devil’s playground without a plan, but he doesn’t need to. Evil pillars of smoke rise slowly over the horizon, dark splatters of burned life against the bright yellow of the sun making its way across the sky.

  Red slows her running, and he catches her. Tears are falling faster than rain down her cheeks and her shoulders curl with the pain.

  “What happened, Merchant? We still had one more day,” Red sobs.

  He stands beside her looking at the testaments to destruction and his knuckles crack as he squeezes the strap of the weight upon his shoulders.

  “I’m not sure, but we are going to find out,” he says.

  “Then what?” she says between wet sniffs of tears and emotions.

  “I’ll be checking in with a cowboy on a debt that needs to be paid.”

  Merchant begins his slow walk to the village.

  She approaches in the waning hours of the afternoon. Her hips sway with every step. The type of walk you can’t take your eyes off of as her ass dips:

  Left.

  Right.

  Left

  A breeze stinking of fire and ash kicks around her bright red hair, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Her eyes twinkle and her smile hides a naughty streak just waiting to be let out. The guards shift on their feet. Rifles adjusted across their folded arms, they try to keep their eyes peered to the horizon, but they fail miserably.

  Red keeps getting closer.

  The one on the left now smiles and taps the other on the shoulde
r. Forcing a frown, the more disciplined one grunts and steps forward to stop the young woman in her tracks. Red continues until she is all but pressed up against them, her shirt pulled as tight as she can get it. Pointy breasts screaming LOOK AT ME! and working just as planned.

  Merchant slips closer from the south. Slowly, his boots tread over gravel and packed dirt with less than the sound of death. His bag hugs him between the shoulders and he draws closer as the two do not see the darkness falling behind them.

  “So, what does a girl gotta do to find some fun out in this shit hole?” Red asks.

  Both men chuckle as even the one with the smallest amount of brains is trying to get his feel of Red’s hips. She returns the favor. A simple touch of her finger runs across each of their arms and they begin to step around her. Like animals circling for the kill, they move to cage her in.

  Too late as Merchant slides in behind them.

  Death falls quickly on the friendlier of the two. A rock caves his skull in with a wet crack and his body crumples to the ground. Semi-alert, the other turns his head but his jaw cracks as an elbow bloodies his lower lip and sends teeth through flesh. Dust kicks into the air as he tumbles backward and spills to the ground.

  Rifle hitting the ground like a toy, Red jumps forward and crushes the bones of his wrist with the back of her boot. Screams come out in a wet gurgle. A second boot to the throat ends the noise and the cracking of bones is all that remains.

  “So, what now, big man?” Red asks.

  Lifting the unused rifle to her shoulder, she checks the magazine for ammo and slides it back into place. Merchant grabs the first body and pulls it to the nearest scrub brush large enough to hide it for a short time. A long streak of dark black mud trails behind the limp boots, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll be done before anyone even notices.

  “Where do you think they’ll keep the survivors?” Merchant asks.

  Red turns to the village, the road leading in remaining empty as the buildings trail into the growing darkness.

  “Are we sure there are any left?” Red asks, a strange crack in the voice of a woman who has recently killed a man with the back of her boot.

  “They wouldn’t be guarding an empty village,” Merchant says and secures his bag across his back.

  He does not pick up a rifle. There is no need to, yet. She nods and steps ahead to lead him in.

  “Last time they corralled everyone to the church in the center of the town. It’s the biggest building they have so anyone still alive is probably huddling there.”

  “I remember where it is. You make your way there as quietly as you can,” Merchant orders and slips toward the shadows that lead outside of town.

  She stops and turns to him.

  “What are you going to do?” she asks.

  Flowing in a seductive glow only moments before, the freckles on her cheeks and the dark circles forming under her worried eyes reminds him just how young she really is.

  “Don’t worry. I have a cowboy to find and it’s better I do this alone.”

  Red nods and moves the shadows of the first building.

  Merchant does not follow. Turning his pace from a slow walk to a jog, he follows the town south and then east with the sun behind him. Pillars of smoke still climb high into the air and he can hear a wailing in the distance.

  At first it sounds like an animal calling for its lost mate. Mixed with the hungry calls of the night’s hunters, the sound is disturbing in its familiarity. Whole cities were reduced to rubble and broken camps during the war and this one is no different. Fewer people, no bombs, but in the end a shattered existence for anyone lucky enough to survive.

  Gripping the strap pulling tight against the skin of his shoulder, he knows the bitter taste of that word, survive. No one really survives these outcomes. Their bodies still breathe, their hearts still beat, but parts of them die when their world is shattered by the realities of this sick world. People weren’t meant to survive this. Death should have claimed them all.

  Merchant feels the weight grow heavier as movement catches his eye.

  Death is coming to claim them all.

  In a crouch he darts in between an outhouse and the home that once used it. Voices carry into the lengthening evening. Harsh words mixed with the calmness of a trained killer. Sinking further into the shadows, Merchant waits. The heavy cloth of his bag slides from his body and he places it on the ground. The weight of the world off of him, he flexes the muscles of his legs and prepares to jump.

  Two men again. Shoulder to shoulder, one holds his weapon loosely and the other straps his across his chest. They do not see what hits them. A freight train with no breaks, Merchant cracks the first in the temple with a fist that shuts the lights off in an instant.

  Surprisingly, the second reacts better than the rest. With a spin, the barrel of his rifle turns and gets a round off before Merchant barrels into him. The shot tears through cloth and air but hits no flesh. Big arms wrapped around, Merchant squeezes as hard as he can. Joints pop along the smaller man’s back, but he is undeterred. Teeth snapping, he cracks his forehead into Merchant’s nose.

  A flash of light and stars everywhere, Merchant’s knees go weak and he stumbles as the man slips from his grasp. Rifle comes back up. Fire erupts and the loud crack echoes into the night.

  Smoke rises from the empty barrel and the burning metal sears dark flesh, but the angry lead does not hit its target. Regaining his footing, Merchant keeps his arm extended and lifts the front of the rifle up as he extends himself to his full height.

  The guard tries to pull away, but it is no use. Cemented in place, the weapon will not budge, and the man’s eyes go wide. He stumbles backward. Rifle forgotten, he turns to run but his boots catch on scrub grass and his ankle twists. With a yelp he hits the ground with a clap against the hardening soil.

  Merchant flips the weapon around.

  Rolling to his back, the man looks up with a plea of mercy. Fingers and palms dig into the ground as his lips go dry and he licks them.

  “P… P… Pl,” he starts.

  A bullet liquifies his brains and shatters the back of his skull as it exits and sends a dark puff of mud and gravel into the air.

  More gunshots echo into the night. Further into the village, there is more return fire than there is attacking. Merchant eyes his bag and the dark sky overhead. A red fire burns in the west, long orange flames flickering across the empty plains as the sun falls for the night and the white purifying light of the moon clears its way for the ghosts and the demons.

  Screams and more gunfire. The village is turning into a war zone before they know it. Finding a knife and ending the man who grumbles as his mind clears, Merchant takes what he can carry. His bag and his burden will have to wait where they are.

  He doesn’t have far to go, and no one will find it while he is away. Men will die tonight and if he finds him, this Mr. Barnett will be the last of them.

  14

  All Is Lost and Nothing Changes

  The shadows are long and the pain is deep. Orange fire spits and hisses as a couple of houses burn filling the air with the stench of smoke and death. Sobs and wails call into the night and the pain of loss and uselessness are chains holding hands where they are and rooting feet in the place.

  Red looks down at the congregation huddled before the church. Shadows and dirt, soot from smoke and wet blood creates ghosts of them all as they pull each other close in fear and desperation. The smell of spent gunpowder tickles its way across her nose before the silent steps of the large man stepping beside her.

  “You get them all, Merchant?” she asks.

  She doesn’t look at him. His presence presses down on her easier than his massive frame towering over her.

  “If any remain, they will be dead by morning. A few tracks lead out into the darkness. The infected will pick them off,” he answers.

  Red fights back a sob looking down at the uncontrolled crying and pleas for help as the two of them stand before th
e group, their words lost to anguish and hostility.

  “There isn’t an infected for miles. Doesn’t matter. That cowboy, Barnett. Did you find him?”

  A rifle settles on Merchant’s shoulder and the smell of fresh blood coats him like a cologne.

  “Fat man, big hat, impressive belt buckle?”

  She nods.

  “Wasn’t here. These were soldiers and hardened men. Ex-cons most likely. Nothing like you described.”

  “Bastard never even showed up.”

  Merchant nods his head. She doesn’t need him to answer.

  A board snaps from a broken roof and crashes to the ground with a crack like thunder. Women and children scream as they pull each other tighter.

  “Look what they did to us!” some of the survivors scream.

  It is hard to distinguish any of them from each other. Their minds are hardly working and Red fights back the urge to yell at them to shut the fuck up and think for a God-damn second. A wail echoes into the night as another succumbs to his injuries. The pain of the loss unbearable as an older woman covers the corpse like a shroud with her body. More reach over to comfort her but she swats them away.

  Red has had enough.

  “All right. Who is going to tell us what the hell happened here?” she barks.

  Eyes swollen with fear and pain stare at her. At least those who still care enough to not want to die right where they sit. She hardly recognizes any of them. Too many inside too little of a space.

  “Look, we got rid of them. You are all safe now. Can anyone tell us what happened?”