Just as he was about to step out from behind the corner to get Hector's attention, Isaac began to hear a dry and rattling laugh. He wondered which of the men could make such a laugh, one that sounded so inhuman that it made his hairs stand on end. From the reaction of the three men, they were just as curious as to the source of the sound as Isaac was.
"Who's laughing!?" Hector yelled. "Show yourself! I'll have you know I'm the finest gunman in these parts."
"I'm very well aware of how good you are," a deep raspy voice replied. "You just showed me."
Suddenly the strange man twisted and turned his neck, cracking the bones inside. Next, he cracked his knuckles before wiggling his fingers.
"I really have to thank you," the strange man said. "It has been a really long time since I've been in one of these, what do you call them? Shootouts. That's it. I was really struggling for a while there but man, that bullet of yours really shook the cobwebs loose, ya know? I feel so much better now."
"By the gods, he is a demon," one of Hector's goons spat out as he trembled before the stranger whose head wound seemed to heal. Within a moment, it vanished.
"Close. Not quite, but close," the strange man said as he wagged a finger towards the goon. "I'm an angel... of Death," he grinned.
"D-death?" the other goon exclaimed as he began to tremble even harder than his compatriot. "A-are you the grim reaper?"
"THE grim reaper? No. I was A grim reaper. Now I'm retired. Now fortunately for you three, that means I'm not about to send you to an early gr-"
Gunshots rang out, as bullet after bullet tore through the strange man, or whatever he was. At first, Hector was the only one but before long his goons also began to contribute lead of their own until finally all three of them had spent all their bullets.
"Do you think we killed him?" Hector said to one goon. The goon shook his head before suggesting they seek the church for holy water.
As the other goon attempted to provide his suggestion, a bang went off, and a bullet whizzed through the air at hundreds of miles per hour and hit him straight in the side of his head, killing him instantly. Before he could even drop to the ground, they heard a second bang, with a second bullet sent sailing through the air and straight into the head of the goon to the left of Hector. Before the second goon had suffered the effects of gravity, a third and final bang went off, sending one final bullet to its new home, the inside of Hector's skull. Finally, gravity won over all three men as they collapsed into a pile on the ground, blood pouring from their wounds.
As for the strange man, he began to look down at his clothes, prodding at the new holes that adorned his outfit.
"Stupid assholes, I was about to let them off with a warning but no, they needed to ruin my clothes. Whatever. I'll just have to go with this. I better get out of here before too many people come around."
Isaac did not know how to process the things he had just witnessed in the last few minutes. He was frightened. He was confused. He was also fascinated. It was not every day when one saw a new side of the world they had never seen before play out before them. It was as though a curtain had yanked back and now he could see the stagehands working behind the scenes.
The strange man then turned his head, looking directly at Isaac. "Hey, you. Kid. If you're finished gawking, get over here. I need to talk to you."
Isaac ran for his life. Growing up in the orphanage, he often had to work his muscles on odd jobs just to keep enough chits coming in to help feed the children. However, this did not mean that he developed a strong cardiovascular system during that time, nor developed leg muscles of the type needed to sustain a run for any long distance.
Fortunately for him, the human body compensates for this through the flight or fight response that sent a surge of adrenaline so large that Isaac felt as though he could run for hours. Unfortunately, Isaac found that in reality he could not do so no matter how good he felt. After about a mile, he made the mistake of slowing down to look behind him as he began to reach the outskirts of town. Suddenly, his body realized just how much energy it had spent in the last several minutes and seized up on him in rebellion. Everything hurt, though as he looked back he appeared to be out of danger.
"What the hell was that for?" the strange man asked as Isaac turned his head forward again. There the man stood, not even looking the least bit winded, having somehow gotten the drop on Isaac. The man stared at him with steely grey eyes that sank into the man's skull, surrounded by darkness. In his hand the man gripped the revolver he used to take the lives of the three men who had tried to kill him. In Isaac's mind the smoke poured from the barrel and the gunpowder burned his nostrils. He witnessed death before, but he was still not used to it. Everything in his body felt wrong as he bent over at the waist and vomited.
"Woah, woah. Easy, kid. It's okay. It's okay," the man said as he patted Isaac on the back with his non gun-filled hand. Isaac still hunched himself over with his eyes closed as everything inside him turned sour. "It's difficult seeing something like that. I'm sorry." The man used his gun hand to gesture, which alerted him to the fact that it was probably a faux pas to be consoling someone while holding the very weapon that had just done the murdering. Quickly, he holstered his weapon, hoping that the kid failed to notice.
The kid looked scrappy, though to be honest, the man did not have the best frame of reference to humans. There was so much variance between them. Some were skinny. Some were fat. Some were old. Some were young. Some had dark skin. Some had light skin. Some had freckles. Others were normal. There were always so many differences to keep track of over so long a time. This kid looked somewhat malnourished from what has likely been a hard life. When the strange man previously stared into the boy's emerald eyes, there shone a weariness to them that typically came with the eyes of older men.
The boy's black hair kinked in its long length and appeared it had not had a good wash in quite some time. The rest of the boy's walnut colored skin also betrayed a lack of proper washing, with dirt and dust coating him generously. His clothes also needed washing and a small bit of sewing common for the clothes worn by a growing boy. He wore a light blue cotton shirt with dark blue jeans and a leather belt and boots. There looked to be nothing remarkable about the boy and yet the strange man felt that there was something hidden deep inside this kid.
Finally, the vomiting stopped, and the world felt to be at a manageable level of awful for Issac. He was still sure he was about to die but it at least meant that he wouldn't have to keep tasting stomach acid in his mouth and seeing the faces of the recently deceased when he closed his eyes. It had been a long and hard thirteen years, but at least he had no regrets. Wait. shoot.
"Please don't kill me, Mister! Please! Please! Please!" He cried with tears in his eyes and snot in his nose as he looked up towards the man.
"Damn you. I am not going to kill you. Now stop all this," the man said as his gestured his hand to the boy's face, "whatever this is. Come on now, it's just gross. Here. Here. Please, for the love of everything blow your nose." The man handed him a handkerchief from his pocket.
"Now, a few things. One, I am not any Mister. I am not any anything like you. In words I hope you may understand I'm an embodiment of Death. Like an angel. Only now I'm retired. That means I don't work anymore. Only, today it apparently means finding myself having to shoot some jackasses and chase down a goddamned kid."
Isaac blinked, struggling to understand what in the name of the divines the man was saying. He knew what most of the words meant, but the revelation of so many mysteries at once was staggering. He hoped if he just let the man talk enough, he might somehow get away if an opening presented itself. "So I'm not looking to take out any kids like you, you hear. So how about you go your way and I'll go mine, and we can just pretend none of this ever happened," the man concluded as Isaac came back into the conversation having missed much of the man's venting.
Isaac opened his eyes wide and shook his head startled, not expecting such a development. Few situations in his life went in what he could consider an easy route for him. He nodded slowly to the man, or being, or whatever, as he backed away, continuing to keep his eyes focused for any sudden movements. "What a strange kid," the being thought as he watched the teenager slink backwards before suddenly running off back the way he had come. "Now I can finally start getting some serious shit done. Like drinking more."
Isaac had never been so relieved in all his life. In a life that had often kicked him in the balls, it was nice to have a respite. He just hoped that life wasn't busy putting on a heavier pair of boots. As he ran he realized that there was actually no reason for him to be doing so, which led to him slowing down and some severe cramping. Cramping was far better than a bullet to the brain, so he didn't complain too much.
Finally, and after some stretching, he made it back to the saloon. Inside he could tell the mood had changed. There hung a morose air to everything as people slowly consumed their beverages and played their games. The conversations limped along, practically begging to meet the same fate as the three men whose corpses were being moved to the mortician.
"Get out of my way," a grizzled voice barked from behind Isaac. As he turned to face the mystery speaker, he felt a hand push on his chest, shoving him out of the way of the door. The owner of the voice was well dressed. He wore a leather cowboy hat and duster, with a deep red shirt and a new-looking pair of trousers. His face was covered in stubble and his features were sharp to the point of almost being jagged. There was an air of meanness to the stranger that extended beyond the poor manners he displayed to Isaac.
The stranger's free hand then shoved on the door of the saloon as he entered. "Listen up!" he barked. "I'm looking for someone here in town. He's a somewhat tall, gaunt man, very pale, dark sunken eyes. He's a wanted man and very dangerous. If any of you can tell me where he is, I would be much obliged. He has a 50,000 chit bounty. Dead or alive"
The saloon sat silently before the hum of fervent murmuring began. Isaac held no doubt that there was many a wannabe bounty hunter divvying up their newfound windfall in their heads. Others looked frightened and were likely engaging in panicked conversations about how close a call they just had and how they just knew there was something off about the strange man. Finally, there were those rushing to do their civic duty and provide the requested information to what Isaac realized was likely a bona fide bounty hunter. An idea sparked inside Isaac's head. Loudly, he hurried to the man.
"Oh! Oh! Sir! Sir! I can take you to him right now!"
The hunter turned. "What? You can lead me to him? Take me. Now!"
"Well, okay, mister! But first, I was wondering if you might help me with something else."
"Goddamn it, boy! You take me to this man right now or I will skin you like the coon you are."
Isaac internally scoffed at the insult. It would take more than that to get his goat. Outside, he made sure not to betray his irreverence.
"Oh I will, sir. I will. But please, sir. Listen to what I say to you! It'll be worth your while!" Issac pleaded as he put on his performance. It was easier to add some extra "sirs" and speak in a more "pleasing" manner than try to argue.
"In the town I've come from, there's some wanted men who've done taken over the whole of everything. The town's called Eden Prairie. It's bout a week's ride but I promise you will make out like a bandit, sir." Isaac hoped he did not overdo things.
The bounty hunter considered the words. His darting eyes betrayed his internal deliberation. After a moment he spoke, "Ok. Fine. Now take me to the man on the poster here."
"Thank God most racist assholes are also morons," Isaac thought. His journey looked as though it would be a success as long as he could help this bounty hunter track down the strange man. He walked hastily as the hunter followed him.
"Now, sir. I wanted to give you a warnin' on this here man you're after," Isaac said before thinking, "this will be a long week."
"And what's that?" the bounty hunter replied.
"Well, sir, he's a strange one. Gives me the shakes thinkin' bout it. He is like a demon, sir. I saw three men fill him full of lead and he just got right up after. Shot all three men dead, sir. I thought you'd want to know, sir."
"Well thank you, boy. Looks like you aren't as useless as I thought," the hunter grinned.
Within fifteen minutes, they arrived at the place where Isaac last spoke to the man. He could see and smell the spot where previously vomited. He fought to keep it from happening again.
"Looks like one of you lost their lunch, eh, boy? What's the matter? Did seeing those men back there get their heads blown to bits get to you? Pathetic. If you want to be a real man, look death right in the face."
Isaac burned with rage at this two-bit, lowdown, dirty bounty hunter piece of trash. "I hope you look Death right in the face as he shoots you between the eyes, you son of a bitch," Isaac scowled. There was no more holding himself back from the bounty hunter.
"What did you just say to me, boy? Did I just hear you right?" the bounty hunter asked as he retrieved his pistol from its holster. "Did you forget about which one of us has the gun?"
"I would rather you shoot me now than have to put up with your shit. I can't believe I thought some no good bounty hunter like you could help me."
"Bounty hunter? Is that what you think I am? You really are a dumb n-"
"Don't you dare finish that word" Isaac interrupted. The man laughed.
"Well, whatever you are, you're also wrong. I'm not looking for any bounty. I'm looking to kill Azrael. Me and some friends of mine made a break of it from where we were imprisoned and we are looking for some old-fashioned revenge."
"Where are you from?" Isaac asked, disturbed at the idea that he was talking to some kind of nonhuman for the second time today.
"Hell," a voice that did not belong to the prisoner replied. The strange man, who Isaac now knew as Azrael, glared as he stood before them, his gun trained on the escapee. "He came from Hell, isn't that right, Raggan?"
Comments (0)
See all