Pale clouded mountains. Serene ocean. A fist to the face, knee to the gut, and a dirty bag over his head as his arms were pressed uncomfortably behind his back.
Lie Ren screamed. But it was useless. He was dragged to his feet in his forced blindness and forced up the gangway to the damning ship that he knew would take him forever away from his homeland, from his parents, from his own people. A one-way trip to the arid expanse of dry desert that demanded unending railways to be laid down, towns to be built, an altar of sandstone and granite yearning for his blood to be spilt over its hungry cracks...
Shouting. Lots of shouting. And shoving.
He stumbled onto the deck, received a boot to his stomach, and rolled down to the steps like a barrel into the abyss of where his new masters kept their slaves. A single lantern hung in the ceiling only to be smothered by the faceless American foreman.
"Next stop: California!"
Chinese postal courier Lie Ren awoke with a start. And quickly calmed himself. He steadied his breathing before he was assaulted by his only friend out here in this corner of the known world.
"Søren! I was going to wake you," chirped his smiling Norwegian partner Nora Valkyrie. Her brows tilted as she took in his mien. "Bad dream?"
He smiled at her and patted her on the head. "Nothing to concern yourself with."
"You sure? You look...really uncomfortable."
"I'm fine." Ren slipped off the hammock he tied between the two poles in the stables and slipped on his boots. He reached over to open his satchel hanging off a nail next to their tethered horses. "Do you have them?"
"Yep! Here you go!" Nora handed him his share of the mail to be delivered to their next stop. Then, in one swing of her leg, she was already on her saddle and riding the animal out the doors. "Come on! It's a long way to go!"
He nodded, making a quick check of the bags that carried their packages, the words 'Postal Service' stenciled onto the side. He hauled himself over his steed and adjusted the reins. One hand slid down to his holster if only to feel a sense of security. The cold steel grip of his revolver never brought so much comfort.
"Do you have your gun with you?" he asked his partner.
She blew her lips at him while turning her own mount slightly to showcase the glinting hilt of her pistol jutting out from her hip holster. "Selvfølgelig!"
Ren laughed throughout their brief gallop out the stables. He returned the wave of the postal workers idling on the porch with a tilt of his hat. Their horses carried on in steady strides until they were out of the town. The road wound down into the near endless horizon of mountain and desert.
"Ha det, Vacuo! Sees nart!" bade Nora with her exaggerated waves, as the small town on the fringe of Vacuo County shrunk behind them.
Ren could only shake his head at her antics. While vexing to many, it was one of the many little comforts he enjoyed. Nora's jolly optimism was revitalizing. That and her many imaginative tales and ridiculous challenges that almost always were birthed on the height of the moment.
"Hey, Ren! Let's race!"
Okay, so maybe they were not as ridiculous. They were quite fun, nonetheless. Not so reckless—not all the time—but still greatly enjoyable. He slapped his reins. "Yes. Let us."
And they galloped freely through the desert.
"Woohoo! Vale County, here we come!"
The farmhouse was abandoned.
Ren was sure. He checked twice. No bodies. A lot of animal bones, though. Most of anything valuable was already taken a long time ago. The windows were cracked and shattered, most likely target practice for travelers and bandits. What had once been a windmill had collapsed on itself, leaving nothing but a jagged wooden tower. All in all, a fine shelter.
Probably the only reason anyone still cared about this landmark was the well in the back of the property. The reservoir was deep with more than enough water to last years. Or so he had heard.
With their horses tethered to a pole, the two mail carriers for the United States Postal Service entered the derelict building and sat down on the dusty table to have lunch. And immediately, Ren could tell something was off.
Nora was not as chatty as she normally was. She was subdued, glances thrown at every minor detail around them. Nibbles slow, grip tight on her bread.
"Nora. Are you feeling well?"
She flashed him a quick smile. He caught the hints of sadness in it.
"Nora, please. What is the matter?"
Her cheer fragmented and she closed her eyes to breath deep. "I...had a dream last night. It was about...it was about the railroads."
His shoulders slumped. The railroads. A not so distant memory that the both of them still struggled to put behind them. Being forced to lay down tracks and hammer them in place day in, day out. Under the grueling eye of their cruel taskmasters. Along with many immigrants who were unfortunate enough to be relegated to this line of work. Underpaid, unpaid, undernourished, malnourished...
All to ferry luxurious trains filled with gold, silver, and other expensive commodities to elites in the wealthier cities. All that effort for rich to indulge themselves...if the trains were not constantly hijacked by bandits and raiders.
"Ah...I see."
"I'm sorry," she mouthed. "I didn't mean to bring it up. It was that...this one was so...real that I thought...I thought we were back working there."
Ren reached over when she started to sob. He knew she hated it. He, too, despised it. Yet, at the time, what else could they have done? They were under guard by hired guns, many of whom were very liberal with their views on 'chinks' and other undesirables 'stealing their labor.'
Though, he did try to look at the positive side of it. The back-breaking word stiffened his muscles, taught him valuable lessons on survival in a sea of foreigners, though many of whom were his fellow Chinese. It was a sad case for Nora, however. Being one of the few Europeans made to work cheap labor singled her out as a unique source of entertainment from the guards.
It was tolerable to a point. Until one went too far and he stepped in. They had never been so ruthlessly pursued in their whole lives than they were in that point in time. The Pinkertons stopped after a while. But the bounty hunters were relentless.
Until one man in particular cornered them in a dry cave at the bottom of a jagged canyon. Ren stood defiantly with his grip tight on the wooden branch plucked from the riverbed, Nora covering her eyes and weeping behind him. The man hesitated. And smiled. The revolver spun in his grip with handle taking the place of the barrel.
'I'm impressed,' he said gruffly. 'Take my shooter. It's yours now, kid.'
Perhaps it was mercy. Or he saw them as insignificant, forgettable. He would never forget his face and his kindness. The young Chinese man reluctantly accepted the gift, the weapon soon coming to rest in his holster today.
'Don't shoot yourself in the foot,' were the stranger's parting words.
Ren blinked and he found his own arms wrapped around her, feeling her quake in his embrace while her tears soaked his tunic. Yes, those memories were grim.
But they learned much from it. He became stronger. And so did she. Literally, she could lift a hammer twice her size with how she was made to drive in the rivets and bend errant steel with the rickety tools they were given.
Now, he could feel her toned arms shudder under him.
"Are you feeling better?" he whispered into her ear.
"Ja...I am. Takk for det."
"You are welcome."
They were surrounded. In a manner similar to what he had learned of how the Apache tribes would corner their prey, the two mail carriers were caught at a severe disadvantage, tactically and numerically. Ren had drawn his gun as did Nora as they tried to stay on their saddles and keep the horses from going berserk.
Peeking above on the rocks flanking this narrow ridgeway were bandits. The red and black strips of cloth covering their faces and adorning their arms were clear indications of who they were...and how deadly they could be.
Strangely, no shots were fired. Yet.
Ren grit his teeth. This was not how he intended his end to be. If it were so, if he had been fated to be slain by greedy thieves, then so be it. He prayed to the gods that they would spare Nora. Or let her flee. Or they be merciful to her in the event he would fail to protect her. There were only so much six bullets could do.
"At ease, all of you!" echoed the mighty voice of an older woman.
The bandits slacked their hold on their guns. Out of fear. Or respect. It was a clear order from their leader, an imposing lady in a dark red dress, her black long coat fluttering in the wind, revealing two large holstered revolvers and the hilt of a sword on her hip. Long, unkempt hair dangled down her back as she leveled them, her own face concealed behind a white and red kerchief.
Ren heard her click her tongue. In annoyance?
"Mail carriers. Let them be."
"Aye, ma'am," reciprocated one of the bandits, an Irishman.
"You're lucky," the woman bellowed. "I do not bestow such mercy. Be grateful you still work for the Postal Service."
The Chinese courier could only growl back up at her. To which she seemed to smirk under that cloth. She snapped her fingers. And one by one, the bandits retreated behind the rocks, vanishing as easily as they had appeared.
Ren was rigid for a moment until he heard Nora say his name. He looked to her, seeing the pistol shaking in her grip, the fear evident in her wide green irises. He holstered his own and grabbed her wrist. "Quick! We have to go, now!"
She nodded and snapped the reins. They galloped out of that death trap as fast as they could. The relief was intoxicating when they broke out of the canyon, finally seeing the iconic clock tower of Beacon in the far distance where they were supposed to drop off this mail.
Ren rested his hand on her shoulder. "Nora. We are almost there."
His partner was still shaken. "Was that...were they...?"
He exhaled. Was it wise to ignore that brush their death? It was not the first time. Nor would it be the last. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a small voice echoed that they would meet that woman and her posse again. He was not looking forward to it.
"Ren...w-was that t-the..."
"Yes," he breathed. "Yes."
Ren brought his steed closer so he could wrap his free arm around her and pull her in. He adjusted her hat and wiped the dirt off her cheeks. He gave his best assuring smile, if only to silence her unease...as well as his own.
Harrowing as it was, very few people in the West could rightfully say they were spared by the infamous Branwen Gang.
They rode unsteadily into an on-going fair. A row of colorful bazaars were set up around a large circular tent adorned with ribbons. People came and went, indulging in the sights and sounds of whatever traveling circus happened to stop by.
Nora, being who she was, would have leapt at the opportunity and drag him off to see the acrobats, the magic shows, and the oddities of the world. But after what they had been through...
They tethered their horses in the stables and deposited their packages at the post office, signing off on the paperwork and freeing themselves for the rest of the day. Ren stepped out onto the street with Nora in tow. Dusk was setting and people were hanging oil lamps outside their doors. Many more were out and about, some fresh from the mines, trudging along in their dirty boots and pickaxes and shovels.
The rest were off to the fair.
Nora tugged at his arm. The smile she wore was small yet a sign of recovery from their harrowing experience. He beamed back at her. "Would you like to visit the attraction?"
She held up a fistful of dollars. "We have enough money for tickets."
Of the many things he had witnessed in his life, Ren was not expecting to be wowed by the impeccable accuracy of the young, elegantly dressed lady on the stage. With practiced pose and unwavering confidence, she reduced the many clay targets to dust. Never once missing. Never once faltering.
Nora was cheering on. Wildly. So wildly, in fact, that the young blonde man beside him had to tap his arm while his finger rubbed his ear. "Is your friend always this loud?"
"Unfortunately," Ren replied with a look that conveyed his sympathies to him.
"Oh. Well, I hope I don't go deaf, then," he said with a meek chuckle.
The Chinese courier nodded politely. "I remind her every now and then."
He received a shrug. Contrary to what he expected. Most people gave him dirty looks or downright expressed their displeasure at such a disturbance. At least this man was not quick to judge. Not yet, maybe. "Eh, I grew up with seven sisters. You don't have to apologize."
Ren raised his brow. Seven sisters? Even back in China, that many children to a man and a woman would be troublesome, imperial taxes notwithstanding. "Ah. That is much appreciated. Thank you for understanding."
"No problem," he said with a warm smile before returning to the show, his smile bursting into a grin as the young lady bowed to the enthralled audience.
"... She is very skilled," Ren commented after she had shot down several flying pots in quick succession.
"Yeah. Pyrrha's a master with that rifle of hers," he reciprocated. "And it's not just a rifle. She's as good with pistols too. Pretty much any other gun. Not so much a shotgun but she can still land a shot."
Ren turned to the young man with a raised brow. "Those are interesting details that I have not heard from the show master."
He scratched the back of his head. "Eh, heh, well...you see, I know her. I helped out in setting this up 'cause they needed some extra hands and, well, I ran into her and we got along. She even showed me a bunch of tricks."
An orange blur sped over his lap. Too late to stop Nora now. "Are you her lover!?"
The man recoiled. "W-what!? No! I, uh, I'm her friend!"
"Nora," Ren drawled, pulling her off him and getting her seated. He was sure some people in the audience were glancing at them. "I may have to apologize for that."
"Uh, n-no problem," the blonde answered shakily. "Why don't we enjoy the rest of the show?"
"Of course. Nora, please behave."
"Aww, Renny!"
"Please?"
With a pout, the Norwegian girl slumped back with her hands folded. It did not last for long. Another round of shots and she was gripping the bannister loudly expressing her admiration for Pyrrha Nikos.
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: December 4, 2018
LAST EDITED: January 2, 2019
INITIALLY UPLOADED: January 2, 2019
NOTE: Originally, this was supposed to be entitled 'Shanghai-ed' because I thought that Shanghai-ing was when Chinese men in Shanghai were kidnapped to serve as slave crews on Western ships. Turns out it was the opposite...sort of.
Anyway, I had already drafted the first part by then so I thought I'd keep it. Creative liberties, I guess.
Translations:
Søren! = Dang it! [Norwegian]
Selvfølgelig! = Of course! [Norwegian]
Ha det, Vacuo! Sees nart! = Goodbye, Vacuo! See you soon! [Norwegian]
Ja … Takk for det. = Yes … Thank you for that. [Norwegian]