The Loyas didn’t put me in their prisons like I thought they would. Before I knew it, they gave me my gun back and put me atop a horse much to my surprise. I was still far from free to leave. Annette and eighteen other men armed to the teeth rode beside and in front of me along a dirt path leading east of Glen Rio.
We followed the path that then curved north slightly and went along for miles. It wasn’t until the sun had begun to fall that Annette found a place alongside a calm river to make camp.
They made a fire and put surrounded the camp with their horses. A few promptly fell asleep but others cooked food, cleaned their rifles, or simply made conversation around the fire. No one spoke to me for any reason. I felt out of place and stared at the tree-line just beyond the horses. I quickly realized running away was no option. The gunmen would have no trouble running me down and shooting me in the back.
‘Suppose it would be a little challenging in the dark.’
Annette’s voice made me jump slightly and I turned to her. She was armed with two pistols at her hip and she didn’t wear her usual dress. Her brown riding pants had wear to them and it was clear she was raised in the field with the gunmen. I had to admit, she was an intimidating force to be reckoned with. She held a rifle repeater over her shoulder casually and chewed on a blade of grass.
‘Why am I still alive?’ I asked looking back to the tree-line. ‘You know the truth now.’
‘That man I shot the day you arrived. He was your man wasn’t he?’
‘I wouldn’t say he was my man. I was tasked with killing your father or else I would be shot. I don’t know that I had much of a choice.’
‘Otto?’ she asked, bluntly, pouting her lips. ‘Is he dead?’
‘I think so.’
She shook her head and looked down at her boots. ‘My father and he always said I would be together in the end. I can’t forgive you but I can’t kill you. Not yet, anyway.’
The threat rose up my spine like an icicle. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I bet,’ she spat the blade of grass to her feet. The rustling of a carriage approaching shook the ice between us.
‘Guests?’
‘More like chasing a lead.’
A black carriage drawn by a single horse and lone driver broke through the tree-line approaching the circle of horses slowly. Annette’s men broke their solitude and grabbed their weapons, meeting the guest in a line, rifles ready.
‘Don’t look at him in the eye and don’t say a word,’ said Annette gesturing to the driver. ‘His name is Gustaf and trust you me, if he ever responds to you, it will be the last thing you hear.’
‘What the fuck?’ I whispered. I averted my gaze and saw the other gunmen were staring at the ground as well. Only Annette walked up to Gustaf.
‘You’re early,’ she said as a matter of factly.
There was no response but I heard Gustaf leap from his perch to the ground. He walked to the carriage and opened the door. I stole a glance as Gustaf grabbed a chain and yanked a man from the shadows.
Only, I could hardly call what emerged a man. He was five feet tall and his arms and legs were barely more than bones. His hair was an overgrown black mop atop his head that matched the bushy beard on his face. His eyes were yellowed as were his teeth and a swathe of flies followed close behind. His wrists and ankles were shackled together by a thick and heavy chain.
That wasn’t what made me catch my breath however. His skin was dotted with dozens of black marks like stars with horned skulls in the center.
A strange scratching noise emerged but I realized that was Gustaf’s voice. I saw two of her men grab the thing from the carriage and yank at its chains.
I saw the man climb onto the black carriage and snap the reigns of his horse and disappear into the tree-line.
‘Hope you boys got some rest. Because you ain’t getting any tonight,’ said Annette. She tried so hard to hide a smile, but I saw through it. It was the look of bloodlust. She stopped and bit her lip.
‘You want to know why you’re still alive, Marcus?’ she asked, her voice lowered to a growl. ‘You are a witness.’
-Dr. Marcus Listrum.
Author J.M. Topp 