A Journey of Black and Red

Her glacial voice cooled down my urgency. She was right, of course. I was running blind and unarmed into the maw of danger, and as my father always said, the line between courage and temerity lies in self-control. I quickly passed by my cot and grabbed my weapons, tying my belt as I moved.

I ran the first yards blind as an owl anyway, relying on the path’s regularity not to fall. My eyes progressively grew more accustomed to the darkness and I found I could see reasonably well thanks to the radiance of the moon over my head, and the town’s lights in the distance. It was enough to see shapes hurrying towards the safety of the buildings. I ran after them until I stumbled upon a scene that made my heart skip a beat. There were two bodies on the ground.

The first, I dismissed with a huff of anger. He was a man wearing filthy rags, his face still contracted in a rictus of vicious ecstasy even as the last of his blood soaked the ground in a slowly expanding dark pool. He had caught a coach gun shot to the chest at point blank range. The weapon lay discarded on the ground next to its owner.

I am still unsure what led me to recognize her. Perhaps it was the cut of dark hair, or a certain pride that still pushed her to hold on in her last moments that caught my attention as I kneeled by her side. Her single eye found me. The other one was lost under bruised flesh and blood.

“Sally?”

She coughed. Her body shook under shock and what must have been a tremendous amount of pain. The parts of her left untouched still shone with vibrant life. Details seared themselves in my memory. The muscle strands under the skin of her forearm, used to hard work. The clean fingertips. A bare calf revealed by accident. They contrasted with the pulped mess left by ham-like fists, the marks of a beast-like savagery. My mind could not comprehend how humans could have been so mindlessly brutal, but my heart pushed me to grasp those searching fingers so she would know that she was not alone.

“Wished— “

She coughed, her voice broken by agony.

“Wished you had looked at me like that before.”

“Sally, help is on the way.”

“Help. Yeah. The Pearl. Coming for everyone.”

“The Crew, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

She coughed, and this time blood erupted from her pale lips in an omen of death. I panicked because it was too soon for her to go, too senseless. She still lived right now, intensely so. She was so courageous to have come here alone. It was her coach gun I recognized lying on the ground. The Crew members must have seen her, they must have recognized her. She shot one before or after they ran her down, it mattered not. They had pummeled her into the ground then left without a care for their victim or even their fallen accomplice. Those men were beasts, no, worse than beasts. Wolves mourned their own.

“Ariane? Ariane!”

“I am here,” the blonde woman said at my back. I had not seen her arrive, of course.

“Can you help?”

I turned. She was wearing a darker dress with what appeared to be chest armor, and she wielded a rifle. She nodded once, but there was something in her gaze I did not like: pity.

“I can make her comfortable.”

“No! We must have doctors… someone!”

“She is bleeding too much, including from the inside.”

Sally started to choke. Her breaths were growing more labored by the second.

“Others…” she said again. She released her hold on my hand.

“You must go now,” Ariane said in a low voice.

She kneeled by the woman’s side and brushed her hair back from her sweat-soaked forehead.

“Will you…” I asked, aware of the price of her curse.

“No. She is not prey.”

“Right.”

It was all the time I could spare. I sprinted away, hoping to outrun my guilt, my fear, and the welling grief in my heart. If I had not… but no, I had to concentrate on the task before me, not on the lives those insane fiends left broken in their paths. I do not believe, dear readers, that I ever ran so swiftly as I did then. Every step propelled me forward as if by wings, but they were brittle, made of wax and feathers, and my sun would come soon enough. And it did, when I arrived upon Grove’s main street and saw a Boschian vista open before me. From the grocery by my side to the dirt road, it was a normal small town in Kansas. After that came hell and its demons. A horde of roaring, whistling, hollering riders galloped along the streets in a senseless cavalcade. The noise was deafening. They were carrying torches giving everything around them a fiery glow so that their flushed faces and filthy hats made them devils and demons come here for a single night. The anger and fear in my heart turned to despair at the sight of so many men — they were at least a hundred! — and then to impotent guilt when I spotted Walker among them. The horrendous man was laughing where he was, and on his horse’s greasy bridles I saw his heavy mitts, and on them I saw much blood. And I knew. I knew he had brought his petty vengeance and I knew that, right now, I could kill him. And I would not, for it would kill me.

It was not self-preservation that drove me, but cowardice. I didn’t want to die, not senselessly. Not like this. I did not regret that choice later, but know this. I was not motivated by wisdom but by fear, and to this day, it was that fear that saved me.

I do not regret it.

I never got the chance to regret it.

After I gathered my spirits, I slipped in the shadows before anyone could see me. Gunshots erupted from the street, first one, then a thundering ruckus that wouldn’t stop. I made my way along the back of the street, through gardens and flower patches until I could see the centre of the men’s ire: the Pearl in all its decadent glory.

Fortunately for me, the bordello’s management had more sense than me. The establishment was barricaded, every window boarded and the main door was locked tight. A swarm of riders was shooting at shutters and walls with more mirth than determination. I raced a bit farther and crossed the street to circle back. A few burly men threw themselves at the entrance as I did so, but it seemed to be holding for now.

The back of the Pearl was larger than I thought, with a low wall, several sheds, and a lot of room to hang laundry. I climbed over the wood separation and found light at a second-floor window. I hailed them, and soon Annie’s face peered through the opening. The light framed her breath-taking beauty even as worry marred her traits. I finally understood what Romeo would have felt under the balcony of the Capulet’s princess, if he had existed. Nothing could diminish her charms.

“Mr Bingle? Is that you?”

“Yes, my night angel, it is I, Alexander.”

“What about Sally?”

“I…”

Anguish stole my breath, but I tore the words out of my unwilling throat. She had to know.

“The Crew got to her first. I am so sorry…”

I could not see her so clearly from below, but I believe that her lips trembled and a tear traced a wet path down her perfect cheek.

“Ne… nevermind. Get in, quickly! I’ll open the door.”

I was let through and faced an eclectic crew. Old men, a few brawny lads and the prostitutes themselves. Without the feathers and glass trinkets, they were just scared women. Many of them were as young as I was.

“Should we evacuate?” I asked.

“What we?” an older woman spat. “You just came here.”

“Enough chatting, Hortense,” Annie said as she clambered down from upstairs. “Unless you got a cavalry regiment under your skirt, we need all the help we can get.”

“That you do,” a glacial voice said from behind.

I turned to see Ariane and Mr Nead by the entrance behind me. The Pearl’s staff took a collective step back. Although Miss Delaney had the appearance of a girl my age, she possessed a poise and demeanor that spoke of supreme confidence, an effect only reinforced by the urgency of the situation and the impressive rifle she carried over her shoulder. As for Mr Nead, he was also armed with silvery guns that shone in the light of the only lantern present as if haunted by some inner fire.

“There are men waiting in the woods behind us for you to leave. The Crew is trying to flush you out.”

“We have a secret passage out of town,” Annie explained, and Hortense made to protest but she was silenced with a glare. That surprised me considering that Hortense appeared to be the madame of this establishment, with richer garments and an attempt at dignity. I was under the impression that they were in charge, yet Annie had the upper hand now.

“It will carry us to those rocks over yonder.”

“Far enough that you might avoid detection,” Ariane conceded. “You should do so now.”

“What about the kids?” a prostitute with blonde hair and a pointy nose asked.

“We have children with us. It will take some time to evacuate them as well,” a dark-skinned woman added somberly.

“Then you need some more time. The riders have gone through the grocery and found oil. They might decide to smoke you out instead,” Ariane added.

“I can go upstairs and lay covering fire,” I suggested. “That could slow them down.”

It would not do much and I might get shot, but the fear from earlier remained strong in my mind and I needed an opportunity to exorcize it.

“The third floor dungeon room has thicker walls. It overlooks the street so it should do,” Annie says.

“I will go,” I stated.

A few others volunteered to join, including three of the rough men. The blonde woman with a pointy nose joined despite my brief protests. I noticed that none of the others objected to her decision. We had the beginning of a plan.

“Mr Nead and myself will provide covering fire from the bank’s roof,” Ariane informed me, “although I cannot reveal my presence so early. Do you understand?”

“I do. I hope the sounds of fighting will attract the men lying in ambush.”

“That is likely. Unfortunately, you might be swarmed while you attempt to escape.”

“If only we had a stick of dynamite!” I exclaimed, “Then I could drop it on the ground and clear the entrance while providing a distraction to flee. Two birds with one stone. Alas…”

Miss Delaney flinched, an expression I had never seen her express before. Mr Nead leaned towards her. His amber eyes shone with amusement.

“Are you perhaps contagious, poppet?”

“Silence. Ahem. As for you, Alexander, I do have a powder charge with a timed detonator you might use.”

She retrieved a small packet from a pouch at her back. A string emerged from its well-wrapped shape.

“Simply pull on this and throw it.”

“Then run like hell!” Mr. Nead added with a dazzling smile.

“Jolly good!” I exclaimed, spirits rekindled!

Sometimes, dear readers, it felt like I had a guardian devil watching over me with jealous zeal, favoring intelligent violence rather than virtue.

“It is decided then,” Annie said, “everyone do their best and see you on the other side of the passage. And you?” She finished with some hesitation.

“We will find you, don’t worry,” Miss Delaney finished.

Everyone nodded, allies of circumstances brought together by adversity and a purpose: to survive the night. I made sure I had my weapons with me and climbed the small stairs at the double behind the form of another fighter. Finally, the time had come to dispense some well-deserved justice!

***

Back outside, two shapes moved through the night with preternatural grace. Their speed and quiet would hide them from the vigilance of all but the most determined sentries, and there were none tonight. The pair climbed the walls of the bank, now gutted and emptied of its contents. They settled to wait for the hostilities to begin farther across the street.

“Sinead, I want some explanations,” the female form hissed in a tongue that few people knew on this plane.

“What about, poppet?”

“None of this! This Annie woman is related to you. I can taste it in her aura.”

“Of course! She is my granddaughter.”

The blonde vampire turned a murderous eye to her partner in crime who merely shrugged.

“Elaborate,” she demanded.

“When two people enjoy each other very much, the man pushes his hot seed in the — “

”I will flip you over the edge like a witty pancake.”

“Do you remember when we met in Marquette for the first time?”

The vampire frowned. She remembered a fancy hotel. An open window across the street. The shadow of a naked leg.

“You had spent the night with Louisa Watson. An Suqqam Hayatu Sinead YOU DIDN’T!”

“I told you I had left her a souvenir, and that Louisa Watson would be promptly married. She was. Her first-born son grew up to be an immensely charming lad who attracted the attention of Lynn Merritt in forty-eight while they were both bored, horny teenagers. Nature followed its course and here we are!”

“Lynn never told me of her first child!”

“I believe that Annie was left at an orphanage so Lynn could marry her east coast sweetheart. A tale as old as time itself.”

“But that means… No…”

“Oh yes. You will never, ever get rid of me. Welcome to generational messes, dearest poppet. It is the true delight of the long-lived folks. Do you know that I once bedded someone who was my great-great-grandmother by alliance? It was the talk of the court for an entire day.”

“I regret everything.”

“I am sure you will be pleased with the final product.”

***

When Annie mentioned the ‘dungeon room’, dear readers, I admit that I expected some sort of cell where the most intoxicated patrons were sent to cool down. I was apparently quite wrong. Suffice to say, the depths of depravation to which mankind would delve in search of earthly pleasure appalled me to an extent that I cannot put quite into words, and I still pray for the soul of the carpenter who designed and built that specific chair. May the lord have mercy on his deviant soul.

Ignoring the dreadful contents of the room, as well as the crude remarks of the men around, I took my position at the front, near a barred metal window. The blonde prostitute settled opposite me. Once more, I refrained from commenting on her presence.

“Ready?”

Everyone assented, just in time for me to spot two men walking down the street, carrying a satchel between them.

“Fire at will!”

I lined up the man on the left and shot him in the chest. The second man fell at the exact same moment.

“You’re not just talk, then,” the blonde woman approved in a calm voice.

I seethed at being judged passable by an armed strumpet! My short outburst of outrage died down soon, however, when I realized that I had a competent ally. I lined up a horseman come to investigate why his companions were dying on the ground, and hit him in the chest as well, but this one merely jumped in surprise and pointed at the Pearl.

“Turkeys! Upstairs! Little turkeys!” He rasped, yet somehow his voice carried over the noise of men crashing against the barred entrance.

“Shoot the turkeys!”

I fired faster. A second bullet in my target’s torso barely got more of a reaction. He rode away, firing a hastily drawn revolver at the bordello’s facade. At first, I thought I may have missed it until the torches of a nearby group showed the dripping red on his horse’s flank and I finally realized that he was drugged to the point of numbness. All of them were.

“Damn serum!” the blonde woman pestered. “Those fucking swine juicers.”

“Is the person who taught you how to shoot the same who taught you how to swear?” I asked as I reloaded.

“Yeah, my dad.”

“Should have done a better job at the swearing part,” I told her with some vindication. Obviously I objected to the fair sex spewing curses, dear readers, but I had to repay her for her earlier comment.

“Fuck you!”

Soon, there was no more time for banter as the numbers of riders increased and what they didn’t achieve through accuracy, they would soon get through numbers. Bullets whistled past us like furious wasps. The dull thud of lead impacting the dungeon’s wooden walls reminded me that our haven was simply the least flimsy walls we had, and that there was a limit to its endurance. Worse, we were forced to shoot faster lest a lucky bullet caught one of us. Our only saving graces were the festive mood outside and our precision.

Several times, the woman and I managed to shoot dismounted crewmen while they busied themselves picking up oil. Our bullets would catch them in the head, or in a part of the torso that disabled them immediately. Our task was only possible because of the perfect vantage we had, and also because of the one watching over us.

“That cold bitch of yours is a beast!” my companion of misfortune exclaimed while yet another rider’s head snapped back. It appeared that Ariane had decided to forego the heart in favor of an organ the ruffians did not seem keen on using. The results spoke for themselves. Many of the men stopping to take proper aim ended up dead.

My world narrowed until there was only the window, and the targets beyond it. The crewmen knew where we were by then, and so their focus improved. At one point, a bullet pinged on a metal bar and traced a small, bloody furrow on my right forearm. The wound seeped blood but I could not stop because more and more riders were coming and we needed to buy some more time. Look, find, aim, shoot, reload if needed. Only my focus remained, and my will to survive. I was beyond emotions, even fear. I just had to line up the sight on one more moving chest, and pull the trigger.

One of our men was hit in the hand, losing a finger but not his determination. His cries and angry mutters dragged me back from the strange mindset I had adopted to see that the blonde woman was terrified. Below, I heard the sound of wood shattering. We were breached. The crewmen had abandoned the smoking out plan, and they would be swarming us very soon.

“It’s time to go!” I screamed. Everyone else pulled back with speed and I wondered if they had stayed because I had. They were looking at me now, as I retrieved the powder charge.

“Hope this thing works,” I mumbled as I pulled the rope and tossed the package through the chipped window bars.

“What now?” the wounded man asked.

“Run like hell!” I replied, remembering the precise directions. And we did. I spared a look down towards the open space that formed the core of the Pearl, and I met the gaze of a tall man with a long black beard as dark as a raven’s coat. He was huge and mad, with bulging muscles, yet his was a controlled rage. He glanced up and smirked.

I smirked as well.

Then, the bomb exploded.

When Mr Nead had advised me to run, I expected a blast powerful enough to tear down a wall. I should have remembered that Ariane Delaney was of the school of thought that, if one elects to shoot the same target a second time, it ought to be for entertainment purposes only. The detonation sent us to the ground as the entire building shook to its unstable foundation. My ears rang and my head swam with dizziness. Dust fell from the rafter above us in a veritable shower. The smell of smoke and burned wood permeated the air.

Below, the dark-haired man screamed as half his face had caught on fire, or so it seemed to me. I did not wait. I dragged the closest person to their feet and rushed forward.

We raced down the back stairs as if we had the devil himself chasing after us. I followed the directions of the blonde woman. Our steps carried us down to the back entrance landing. Just as we reached it, the door to the garden banged open.

I drew faster than I ever had before and lodged a bullet in the charging man’s head before he even saw me. He collapsed at my feet, but the next man tackled me and sent my revolver clattering on the ground. I barely got the time to place my feet against his chest. His expression of beastial delight was short-lived. I sent him face first against the closest pillar.

Unfortunately, I looked up to see another lout aiming at me.

But I was not alone. The others opened fire and the man fell, pierced by a thousand wounds. No more attackers followed, and I was helped to my feet by a shaken cook.

“We should leave.”

Discretion being the better part of valor, I picked up my fallen weapon and we collectively crashed into the kitchen just as yells and the sound of thrashed furniture erupted from the open space. Sweat covered my body despite the evening chill and my heart beat like a drum. We found an open trapdoor, just as planned. It led into an underground passage dug through the earth. We hurried through this claustrophobic corridor in complete darkness. The sounds of the others breathing saved me from fear but not from introspection. I had killed again. I had been shot at. All within one day of choosing a cause to stand for. Truly, this land was in dire need of peace and justice. Tomorrow. I believed that I had seen enough blood for the day.

We quickly left the absolute darkness of the tunnel for the relative darkness of a clearing nestled between rocks and trees, giving us a view of the main street in the distance. A dense forest of oaks and ashes hid the scared band of women and children huddling together on the side. I moved to the side, finding Annie surveying the land.

“We cannot stay,” I tell her. “The Crew will find the tunnel soon enough.”

“I know. We were just waiting for you to leave.”

She sighed deeply, and I wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms.

“I am not sure where we can go. If the Crew catches us on open ground…”

“I will assist,” Ariane’s cold voice said from the darkness.

Once again, people jumped at the noise, then at the appearance of my guardian demoness riding into the camp atop a mare as dark as the abyss. I swear, dear readers, that Kelpies had nothing on this creature. The tall horse stopped and snorted in a way that felt derisive. Mr Nead sat behind her without shame despite the incongruity of the situation. He dismounted, and the mount bumped her head against him, which didn’t make her any less threatening.

“I can have them protected them while we attend to some more… important business.”

“Ariane, thank God the two of you came out in one piece,” I exclaimed with some relief. I would never doubt her ability, but lucky bullets tend to hit the idiot and the wise with the same exacting strength.

“Yes. What a blessing.”

She frowned, and I asked her more questions while the small crowd erupted in confused mutters.

“Did everything go well? Are we being followed?”

“The woods are clear.”

“Then… is something the matter?”

“The elixir makes the locals tasteless.”

“I know!” I reply with much outrage, “such brutes! A scandalous display. I cannot wait to get my hands on the one behind this.”

“What a coincidence. But, in any case, we need to reach the convoy. I gave them orders to hide in a more secure spot. We should be protected for the night while the Crew crashes down.”

“Then let us —”

“Why are we even waiting for you? This is all your fault!” A voice said from behind, silencing all whispers.

I turned to the expected and unpleasant face of Hortense, the Madame. Behind us, flames licked the edge of the Pearl, spelling the doom of her venture.

“If you hadn’t come, none of this would have happened.

“This isn’t my fault,” I calmly replied.

She gasped in outrage.

“Oh, really? So the Crew came to avenge tepid whiskey then?”

“It was my doing. I triggered those events. But they’re not my fault,” I reply with absolute conviction. Some of my certainty must have affected Hortense then, because she stared at me uncomprehendingly. I had to explain. It was important.

“Was it bad that I stopped my face from being caved in? Was it bad that I drew on those who were about to kill me? Did I commit a crime? Was it a horrible thing to do, not to lie down and let Walker break me in two? Was it so unforgivable?”

“You say that but Sally’s dead.”

“Yes, she is, because of events I started. I probably shouldn’t have revealed that I was a lawman, that backed them into a corner. But perhaps they would have come anyway after the thrashing I gave Walker. Or maybe I could have lost the fight and then they would have come a few days later anyway, for something unrelated. Maybe, maybe, maybe. We can spin our yarns until the Day of Judgement but it wouldn’t matter because it’s not my fault.”

I stand square in front of the old woman and cannot help but feel a bit of disdain at her sight. She is frightened and weak, sheep willing to bend before the first thug and let them run amok among those she’s supposed to protect, because that’s what a leader should do. In retrospect, dear readers, I realize that my anger was aimed at myself, at my earlier cowardice, even if it proved salutary. Hortense was merely the mirror to my failings. That was why the sight of her irked me so much. Nevertheless, I vented all I had on my heart. She would pay for myself, and all the others.

“My father always used to say, don’t blame yourself for the actions of monsters and idiots, or you will be crying all day. I am responsible but I am not guilty. I was not the one who punched Sally to death, I was not the one who rode through the city shooting at everyone, oh no. If we are to distribute blame, I was not the one in charge of the town’s security who hid God-knows-where. I was not the one who let Sally leave by herself to search for help.”

Hortense flinched, then, but I was not done.

“You got the short end of the stick and you look for fault in everyone but the guilty, and that includes you. The Crew has been terrorizing this part of Kanses for years and you did nothing, said nothing, or did you think the money they spent here was legally earned? Hah! The ruined farms, the castoff families, you were more than happy to forget about them so long as you had your tranquility. It only started to matter when it affected you. Guilt implies wrongdoing. I have done no such thing.”

I took a deep breath and settled down. Miss Delaney was following me from the corner of her eye with great intensity, while Mr Nead looked like a man at the theatre. In some ways, they were my guardian devils, but in other ways they felt like spectators of an opera, observing tragedy from the lodges and savoring the catharsis it brought them.

No.

I was overthinking. I needed to recentre on the problem at hand. Distractions could not be tolerated in this moment.

“But I am responsible.”

Consternated groans answered my claim. They were confused.

“I am Marshal Bingle, an Officer of the Law. It is my sworn duty to bring criminals to justice or to the grave and by God, I will not shirk it, no matter the odds. A single determined man can make all the difference in the world, so long as he has brains and courage in equal measure. No, I did not cause the Crew to appear or to do what they do, but yes, I will end them, here or later, alone or with help, I will end them. And I will find those behind this band of ruffians and they will rue the day they thought themselves out of reach. Now, those of you who wish to leave to safety, you ought to do so soon. The fight back starts tomorrow.”

And by start, I meant that we must plan for success. It might take a while, since I didn’t even know where to start.

“Wooh, that was hot,” the blonde woman with a pointy nose said, fanning her cleavage in a decidedly provocative way. I looked at her first, but my eyes were soon drawn to Annie, who now stared at me from under hooded lids in a way that endangered my very soul.

“I want to see what you can do, pretty boy. I will help you however I can,” the fallen angel declared.

“But… the dangers.”

“You will need to gather information, yes? I am very good at extracting information.”

“I am coming as well,” the blonde girl said, “enough being pushed around.”

Little by little, men and women detached themselves from the group of refugees. Those who didn’t have children, the zealous and the believers. The mad ones. Those who would take the first step so one day, others wouldn’t have to. I was facing some of the rougher sorts the West had to offer and yet, in this moment, it was I who was humbled, because they were not sworn to this war, but they would wage it anyway. How could I refuse such a crowd?

***

“The Godling has gathered a ragtag band of prostitutes and caravan hands, Sinead.”

“I know. Victory is assured!”

“The fact that you are right bothers me on a fundamental level.”

“No, it does not. You love it. You are just being jealous.”

“Would you stop being so perceptive, please?”

“You will get your ragtag band as well, poppet. Yours just takes a little time to prepare, but you know what they say. The longer the wait, the more intense the pleasure.”

“I hate you.”